Marcea wondered if either of them understood the depth of their connection, which perhaps could only be appreciated by someone standing outside the circle of their intimacy. She knew her daughter's sense of duty well enough to know that Cameron would not have allowed anything to transpire between them. It was just as clear to her that despite their best intentions, something very significant had.


Marcea walked down the hall to the pay phone, and held the slip of paper in her hand as she punched in the numbers that had been written there for her.


"This is Marcea Cassells," she began when a male voice answered. She was told to wait a moment, and then a woman spoke anxiously into the phone.


"Yes? Is she--"


"She's awake. Weak, but otherwise she seems to be quite all right."


A moment of silence, then a voice that shook slightly. "Thank you so much for calling me."


Marcea hesitated a second, then continued, "She asked about you immediately."


Blair took a sharp breath.God how I wanted to be there when Cameron awoke When it was clear that the Secret Service agent was out of danger, the White House and Secret Service had put unbearable pressure upon her to be sequestered in a safe house until the investigation could be carried out. She hadn't wanted to leave Cam's side, but she could not fight everyone alone. Even Mac had gently told her that Cameron would have wished for her to go. It was when he reminded her that Cameron had nearly died trying to keep her safe, that Blair finally relented. Nevertheless, leaving Cameron had been the hardest thing she had ever done. She felt like she was leaving her heart behind.


"Could you tell her--tell her--I--," Blair halted in confusion. Cameron would never believe her.


"I think you'll have to tell her that yourself, when the time is right," Marcea said gently.


"Yes, of course," Blair said swiftly, her emotions now firmly under control. She thanked Cameron's mother, and hung up the phone. She turned away, knowing that there would never be a time when she could share with Cameron what was in her heart.







Chapter Nineteen




"How did she take it?" Mac asked.


Assistant Director Stewart Carlisle studied Mac carefully, wondering how much he could disclose. What he saw was a look of genuine concern and something more, something that looked a lot like sympathy.


"She took it well-- she didn't argue, or put up a fight."


"Uh oh," Mac said hollowly.


"Yeah. Worries me too." Stewart didn't know what to make of the look on Cameron Roberts' face when he informed her that she would not be returning to the security detail assigned to Blair Powell when she had recovered. Her face had been a careful blank, but he thought he saw something dark pass through her eyes.


"Did the doctors say I wouldn't recover fully?" she had asked at length.


Carlisle had looked out the window, searching for words, wishing he had a different answer. He didn't understand it, but it wasn't his call. Cameron Roberts was a hero throughout the agency, and had been publicly commended by the President. She had done, without hesitation, what each of them had secretly asked themselves if they could do. She had been willing to die in the line of duty. They didn't come any better than her. What he had to say didn't make any sense.


"The doctors said youll be fine. Blair Powell requested that you be removed from the position."


Cameron's right hand gripped the covers tightly, but otherwise she lay without moving. "I see," she said in a voice devoid of emotion. She had been hoping -What you were hoping doesn't matter anymore. You were wrong.


He had tried to make light of the situation, assuring her that once she had made a full recovery she could have her pick of assignments.Hell , he reminded her,after what you did, you could sit out your days until your pension on a desert island for all anyone would care . She had let him go on, but he knew that she did not hear him. He felt like a fraud, but he did what he had to do. When he left the room, Cameron was staring at some distant point, her face and body so still he could barely see her breathing.


"Yeah, well, she'll be fine. She always is," Carlisle said sadly.


Mac wasn't nearly so sure.


**********


Nine months later, she was fully recovered, and back at work. It was almost as if the last year had never happened. She finished rehab, she completed her mandatory psychiatric counseling, and she sat in front of Stewart Carlisle discussing her newest assignment. She had been reassigned to the investigative division, where her true instincts and abilities lay.


It was deja vu, but everything was different, including her. She was more alone than ever. Once, as she was sorting through her things after being released from the hospital, she came across the note Claire had left that night a lifetime ago.


I have a feeling I won't be hearing from you for a while. I'll miss you - more than you know. If ever you need - anything, call me. C.



Cam had never called.


She brought her attention back to what Carlisle was saying. He briefed her on the counterfeiting/money laundering operation her team would be investigating. She told him she had no problem with any of the agents assigned to her. Her field exposure would be limited, although she was perfectly fit for the duty. When she pointed this out, Stewart made it clear that he did not want her taking any risks.


"Being shot twice in the line of duty is enough for any agent," he commented dryly. "Despite the fact that you're a hero, you'll give us a bad name."


"Heaven forbid," Cam said with a perfectly straight face.


"Well, just keep your ass out of the line of fire," Stewart said roughly. He looked to the papers on his desk, indicating that their obligatory meeting was over. He was surprised when she spoke.


"How is Mac handling the other detail?" she said quietly.


He was almost successful in hiding his surprise. This was the first time she had referred in any way to her previous experiences. He contemplated issues of security for a few seconds, and then thought,What the hell, she deserves an answer.


"No major security breaches, if that's what you mean. He's very circumspect with his reports, but I gather that the subject is still throwing up roadblocks whenever possible." He regarded her intently for moment. "As a matter of fact, I can use a straight briefing about what's going on up there. You're not due to report to this new post for a week or so. How about dropping in on Mac and getting the the real story?"


Cam stiffened, her displeasure clear. "I'm not going to spy on another agent. Mac is perfectly capable, and I'm sure if you speak with him, he'll tell you whatever you need to know."


"I'm not doubting Mac's ability. But I'm no fool either. I know damn well that he is soft-peddling the details of the reports to protect Blair Powell. Remember, the guy who tried to kill her is still out there, and we couldn't keep her secluded forever. She is still in real and imminent danger. Any information can only help us. If you don't want talk to Mac, talk to her."


Cameron stood abruptly. "No way." She turned and strode purposely toward the door.


"Roberts," he said in that soft deadly tone that meant he was completely serious. "Don't make me pull rank. Just find a way to do it that you can live with. Five days. Then I'll expect to hear from you."


She didn't answer. She didn't trust her voice not to tremble.







Chapter Twenty




As she drove through the Lincoln Tunnel into Manhattan, Cam reminded herself that she was in New York City for the sole purpose of attending the opening of her mother's gallery exhibition. It was the first East Coast showing in a number of years, and Cam knew it would please her mother for her to be there. She had absolutely no intention of visiting the command center, and certainly no desire to see Blair Powell. She reminded herself of this every few minutes, whenever she found her mind drifting to the images that shethought she had successfully eradicated. Images of Blair, in a smoky bar, her hair wild and her hunger unleashed; Blair, elegant and cool on the dais of the parade route; Blair, vulnerable and weary in the hospital after the ski accident. Blair's memory triggered a kaleidoscope of wistful wanting and explosive sexual desire. Cam forced her concentration back to the congested city traffic, grateful for something, anything, to distract her from the aching need that was never far from the surface of her consciousness.


She allowed the attendant at the Plaza to valet park her car, and gave the bellman her luggage to bring up to her penthouse suite. She was not traveling on company time, and felt no need to account for her expenditures. In fact, she felt unaccountable to anyone for the first time in her adult memory. She was between assignments, and despite Stewart Carlisle's edict, she had no intention of performing any duty for the United States of America for the next seven days.


She signed in, and as soon as she was alone in her suite, she showered off the drives dust and grit. She had an hour and a half until the evening opening of her mother's show. She stood naked before the bathroom mirror, trying to tame her unruly waves into position.