"If you keep me cooped up in this place for very long, I won't be responsible for my actions."


Cam recognized the concession in her voice. She laughed softly. "I promise to make this as short and painless as possible. I'm sure you can be trusted, no matter how long it takes."


Don't be so sure,Blair thought to herself.If I have to be this close to you 24 hours a day, I'm not sure I can trust myself.







Chapter Eleven



Blair winced as Paula Stark led yet another 10 in a suit where the aces hadn't yet been played. If she had to watch her "partner" make one more stupid play, she might have to take Mac's gun and shoot her. She had not left the apartment in three days. They had just finished a dinner of Chinese takeout, and Cameron had left Blair with Stark, Mac, and Taylor while she went to Blair's apartment building for a briefing with the other agents. Blair was keenly aware of her absence. The air seemed electric when Cam was around. She looked toward the door with relief when she heard the knock.


"How is your pinochle, Agent Roberts?" she asked as Cameron crossed the room to join them.


Cam raised an inquiring eyebrow. "Are you playing for money?"


Blair laughed. "If we were I'm afraid I'd be in big trouble."


"In that case, I'll play. Partners?"


Paula Stark pushed back from the table. "Please, take my place. I never was any good at cards, and I'm due back at the command center now any ways."


Cam sat down across from Blair. They played as if they had been playing together for years. Each time Cam bid, she had a sense that Blair knew exactly what she intended. It was both unsettling, and exhilarating. Before long, Mac and Taylor were complaining that the two women had some kind of secret signal going. The score became so uneven that eventually they called it quits.


"You are a great partner, Commander," Blair said softly. "I might have known. I'm sure you are equally good at everything."


Her tone was intimate, and the suggestiveness did not escape Mac's notice. His boss seemed unaffected as she stood and stretched. She had shed her jacket, and the straps of her shoulder holster stretched her shirt tight over her torso. Mac didn't miss the way Blair's eyes flickered over Cam's form.


If Cam had heard Blair's remark, or felt her appraising glance, she did not show it. She made no reply as she turned to her to agents. "Why don't you two take a break for a few hours. Have one of the night crew come by around midnight. I'll be fine until then."


After the two men left, Cameron took a chair in the suite's large sitting area with the day's reports. Blair sat opposite her on the couch with a sketchpad. The room lights were low, and Cam's face was partially in shadow.


"Do you mind?" Blair asked as she began to draw.


Cam looked over and smiled faintly. "No."


"Most people do," Blair said without looking up.


She was sketching the fine straight nose, the deep-set dark eyes, and the sculpted cheek bones and jaw from memory. It was a face that had caught her attention the first time she saw her, and it never failed to entice her. It was a face meant to be drawn. Unfortunately, the more she saw her, the more exciting she found her. Cam was everything Blair found attractive in a woman, and the effect she had on her was unsettling. Blair found herself listening for Cam's voice when she awoke in the morning, and looking for her figure when she entered a room. She found Cam's presence both disturbing and strangely reassuring. She tried to discount her feelings by reminding herself that it was only natural to find a good-looking woman appealing. She simply chose to ignore her racing pulse and unmistakable arousal whenever Cam was near.


"I'm actually used to it."


Blair looked up. "Really?"


"My mother is an artist."


Blair regarded her seriously. "Would I know her?"


"You might," Cam said softly. "Her name is Marcea Casalls."


Blair caught her breath. "You wouldn't be joking, would you?"


Cam shook her head.


"Well." Blair was momentarily at a loss. "I suppose I should be embarrassed to even let you see my work. She is quite wonderful."


"Yes, she is. From the little I have seen of your work, so are you. Of course, I only know what I have seen of my mother' s work, and that of her friends."


"Then you have been exposed to the best," Blair said lightly. "Did you grow up in Italy?"


A shadow flickered across Cam's face, then was gone. "Yes, until I was twelve. After that, I was schooled in the United States."


Blair spoke aloud without thinking. "I remember hearing something about her husband-"


"My father was the American ambassador to Italy," Cam responded. "He was killed in a terrorist car bombing attack went I was eleven."


"Oh god, I'm sorry. I had forgotten." Blair looked at Cam with true anguish in her face. As a child she had often been frightened that something would happen to her father. Growing up surrounded by armed guards had done that to her. She never gave any thought to her own safety. To do so would have forced her to accept that the constraining security measures taken to protect her were actually necessary. "It must have been horrible for you."


Cam looked into the distance, remembering. "It was much harder for my mother. They were completely devoted, and his death nearly destroyed her. If it hadn't been for her work, I don't think she would have survived."


"And she never remarried?" Blair questioned softly.


"No. I don't think anyone else would have compared. Fortunately, her art is her life. She travels a great deal, and has many friends."


"Are you like her?" Blair asked boldly. She couldn't help wondering about the rumors concerning the death of Cameron's lover. For an instant she was jealous, and then berated herself for her foolishness.


Again, that fleeting smile. "No, my mother is an artist."


"Meaning?"


"She is a mysterious combination of deep passion, volatile sensitivities, and uncommon vision."


"Is that how you see artists?"


Cameron focused on Blair's face. "Yes. I find them to be persons of rare fragility and unsurpassed emotional depths. Hell to live with, but worth every moment of the knowing."


Her words were delivered with a deep intensity, and Blair felt them to her core. Those words threatened to rock the foundation of her world. She had never wanted anything more than she wanted Cameron Roberts to feel that way about her. It was impossible, and the last thing she wanted to feel. This need would make her weak, and endanger what little independence she still had. She was torn between the urge to flee, and the physically painful attraction that was so much more than sexual. She wrenched her eyes away from Cameron's expressive face.


"I can't draw you when you're talking," she said thickly as she focused on her charcoal and paper.


Cam watched Blair's delicate hand stroke the textured surface, thinking how like her mother Blair was. She was beautiful, gifted, and an emotional minefield. One moment she was heat and anger, the next an ember radiating sultry sensuality, and then, just as suddenly, like now, withdrawn into herself. Blair's legs were curled under her, and she bent her upper body over her work protectively. Her blond hair fell free in riotous curls around her face. Cam's mind repelled from the image of anyone harming her. But then it was her responsibility to see that nothing did.


She returned to her reading absolutely certain that her sudden urge to run her hands through those curls was simply in response to their conversation, and had nothing to do with the compelling beauty of the woman herself.


**********


At 7:00 the next morning, Cam walked out of the second bedroom after finishing a shower. Across the room, Blair and Paula Stark were so engrossed in conversation they didn't notice her. She couldn't hear them from where she was standing, but Blair had one hand on Stark's forearm and was peering intently into her face. It looked as if Stark was trying to backup, but Blair had effectively maneuvered her against the wet bar. Cam had witnessed this particular seduction before. She wasnt sure what made her angrier, Blairs obvious attention to the woman or the fact that Paula Stark appeared to be fascinated by her. Any kind of romantic involvement between an agent and the individuals they were guarding was strictly forbidden. It wasnt just policy, it made tactical sense. You couldnt be objective in a dangerous situation if you were personally, particularly intimately, involved with the subject.


Paula Stark slipped past Blair to answer a knock at the door. Cam automatically stepped between Blair and the door, shielding her until she was certain it was Taylor. They had been there four days, and it was time for her to make a decision.


"We need to talk," she said to Blair.


Blair regarded her suspiciously, realizing she must have seen her with Paula. She hadnt really given much thought to Paula Stark previously, although she had been aware of Stark shadowing her in the bars over the last six months. Stark was attractive, but Blair had never really been interested in her. It was probably because she guessed Stark wasnt a lesbian, and she had learned at a very young age not to fool around with straight women. However, after having been cooped up in a three room suite for four days, with a woman who seemed to turn her on without effort, and rejected her with similar ease, Blair found herself trying to entice the pretty fresh-faced young agent out of boredom.