“Now isn’t exactly the time to be parading you out in public,” Cam observed.

“What?” Blair focused on Cam, aware of the tight thread of disapproval in her tone. “Do you want me to sit in a dark room somewhere for the rest of my father’s presidency?”

“That might not be a bad idea.”

In the past they would have fought about it. As it was, Blair struggled with her temper and her overwhelming need not to be controlled. She’d spent all her life resisting the efforts of others to safeguard her at the cost of her independence. She’d resisted Cam, too, for months, even as she tried to seduce her. She’d wanted to prove that she didn’t need to be protected, and she’d wanted to undercut Cam’s authority over her. Unfortunately, her plan hadn’t worked. She’d fallen in love, and although she hadn’t realized what that meant at first, she did now. Loving, being loved, was a responsibility. The decisions she made now didn’t just affect her, they affected Cam’s life, too. So she took a breath and listened to what Cam hadn’t said. Cam was worried for her.

“Remember you said yourself we couldn’t stop living,” Blair said. “We can’t let whoever tried to destroy us think they’ve frightened me into hiding.”

A pulse pounded in Cam’s neck. “I wasn’t talking about putting you on display somewhere when I said that.”

“You don’t know that’s what Lucinda wants.”

“She’s gearing up for your father’s reelection campaign. She’s not going to put that on hold no matter what’s happening on the international scene.” Cam consciously relaxed her hands, which had tightened into fists. “And you’re going to be a great campaign asset.”

“Darling, I’ve never been a great campaign asset. I’m the wild child, remember?” Blair laughed, thinking of the international debacle that would have resulted if her affair the year before with the French ambassador’s wife had come to light. “My security chiefs spent half their time trying to keep me out of the press, not in it.”

“Not anymore.” Cam trailed her fingers down Blair’s cheek. “You’re as close to a first lady as this country has. And the public loves you.”

“Let’s just wait and see what she wants,” Blair said, but she had an uneasy feeling that Cam might be right. She’d taken a back seat during her father’s run for the presidency, but she wouldn’t be able to do that again. She wanted him to be reelected. The country needed him. And if he needed her, she might have to get used to campaigning. She found Cam’s hand and squeezed it. “I’m not the first lady. I’m just your lady.”

“When did you figure out just what I needed to hear?” Cam murmured, kissing Blair’s temple.

“I’ve been practicing.”

“You’re doing well.”

Blair smiled. “Yeah? How well?”

“Want to keep Lucinda waiting for an hour or two?”

“Yes.” Blair leaned closer to Cam. Dropping her voice, she whispered, “You’re not the only one who’s been suffering while you recuperated.”

“Then it’s probably going to take me more than two hours to make it up to you. It might take me all night.”

“Then I guess I’ll just have to suffer a little while longer.” With a satisfied expression, Blair leaned back and closed her eyes. “Because I don’t intend to hurry.”

When Emilio, assistant to the White House Chief of Staff, directed Blair and Cam into Lucinda Washburn’s office, Lucinda was on the phone. Blair waved to the commanding looking woman with the stylishly coiffed, silver-streaked black hair. As usual, Lucinda wore a conservatively styled jacket and skirt, plum colored this time, offset by burnished gold jewelry at her ears and throat. A single large, square cut emerald in a plain gold setting adorned the ring finger of her right hand. That, Blair noted, was new.

Lucinda paced in front of a wide walnut desk covered with neat stacks of folders and memoranda. When she caught Blair’s eye, she mouthed coffee and pointed to a credenza against one wall.

Blair signed, you too? and at Lucinda’s nod, proceeded to pour coffee into three China cups. She handed one to Lucinda and then carried the others to the sofa across from Lucinda’s desk, where Cam was waiting. They sipped in silence as Lucinda expertly pressured whoever was on the phone.

Her tone was even and unmistakably edged with flint. “Listen Tom, I really don’t care if Charlie has to walk all the way from Chicago. He owes us that vote and I expect him to be here tomorrow morning for roll call.” With a faint smile, she concluded, “Either that, or he’ll find himself pushing that school tax referendum up a long steep hill all by himself.”

Lucinda listened for another few seconds, said, “Wonderful,” and hung up. Then she crossed the room and settled into one of the brocade Chippendale chairs facing Blair and Cam. “Good flight?”

“Military transport isn’t known for luxury,” Blair said.

“True,” Lucinda conceded. “But they’re reliable.”

“Well, I’m here now, so what do you need?”

“I’d forgotten how much you enjoy small talk.” Lucinda turned to Cam. “How are you feeling?”

“Better every day.”

“Judicious answer.”

“Luce,” Blair said impatiently. “I was having a really nice morning when you called. A walk on the beach, and then I was planning on going back to bed. Once there, I intended to sedu—”

“You can probably skip those details, Blair,” Cam interjected, brushing her hand down Blair’s arm.

Lucinda laughed. “I wouldn’t put it past you to tell me all the details, Blair, just to make me suffer. Considering that I haven’t been out of this office before 2 a.m. the last month, I haven’t exactly been getting—”

Blair held up her hands. “I don’t want to know what you do in your spare time.”

“Truce then.” Lucinda’s expression softened for an instant. “You look rested, both of you, as much as can be expected. Doing all right?”

Both Blair and Cam nodded.

“Good.” Lucinda drained her coffee cup and set it carefully on a low cherrywood Federal table. “We have a slight problem that I think you can help us with.”

Blair stiffened. Cam remained completely still, but her eyes sharpened as she studied Lucinda’s face.

“The Company has lost an important asset, and they’d rather not inform their counterparts in the other divisions. Such a lapse is embarrassing, especially these days when everyone is a little unsure of who will remain top dog in the security world.”

“Is this conversation being taped?” Blair asked casually.

“Of course not.”

“No video cameras in here?”

“No.”

“Then do you think it would be possible,” Blair said, emphasizing each word, “for us to speak English, Lucinda?”

“The CIA has lost a deep cover operative and they don’t want the FBI or the Department of Defense to know about it.”

“Valerie Lawrence,” Cam said.

Lucinda regarded her steadily. “Yes, and I don’t think we’d even know about it except someone at Langley let a bit of a memo regarding the lost contact slip into the daily security briefing report. Averill Jensen picked it up.”

Blair knew Jensen well. He was her father’s handpicked security adviser, and before her father’s presidency, Averill had been attorney general. He’d also been her father’s college roommate. She said, “Averill would. He never misses anything.”

“Yes, and when he followed up, the lid slammed shut.” Lucinda lifted her shoulder. “I suspect the operative responsible for the information leak has been transferred someplace where the nights are long and dark.”

“So Valerie is out in the cold somewhere,” Cam said. “Are they trying to bring her in?”

“We don’t know. But we’d like to find her ourselves.” Lucinda crossed her legs and folded her hands loosely in her lap. Relaxed. Friendly. “You know her, Cam. That could be useful.”

“I don’t think I like where this is going,” Blair said. “Cam and Valerie—”

“Have a history, yes I know.” Lucinda’s gaze never wavered from Cam, even when Blair stood abruptly.

“History, Luce. History. As in past.” Blair wanted to pace but the room wasn’t quite big enough for it. Instead she walked to Lucinda’s desk and stood there with her back to the others. She looked out the French doors that opened to the esplanade running along one side of the West Wing until the red haze of anger cleared from her brain, then she turned back. Cam and Valerie had once been lovers when Cam had thought that Valerie was a high-priced Washington call girl. “Cam doesn’t know anything.”

“Blair,” Cam said gently. “That’s not why we’re here.”

“I don’t understand.” Blair looked from Lucinda to Cam. “God damn it, I hate this.”

“It’s Diane,” Cam said, watching Lucinda. “Isn’t it?”

“Oh no. No, no, no.” Blair stalked back to the sitting area but did not sit. She slammed her hands onto her hips to hide the fact that they were shaking. “Diane is not part of this. She was never part of this. She doesn’t know—”

“We haven’t been able to access very much information,” Lucinda went on in her conversational tone. “Averill wouldn’t have pushed at all except Lawrence’s name came up in association with the raid in Tennessee. That’s getting close to home.”

“So you want to know what Valerie knows,” Cam said, thinking out loud. She reached up and pulled Blair down beside her. “It’s okay. Let’s just talk for a few minutes.”

“Actually, we want to know who Valerie knows,” Lucinda replied. “Because someone tipped Matheson about the raid. He’s disappeared.”

Cam straightened in surprise. Matheson was the head of a paramilitary organization that had direct ties with the men who had staged the assault on Blair in the Aerie. Possibly even with the men who had orchestrated the World Trade Center attacks. When Cam’s team uncovered his identity, she, Renée, and a handpicked cadre of covert military operatives, had stormed the compound. Matheson had not been there. “I thought the Company had him.”