She surveyed her image unemotionally. Her hair was still short and sleek, with new touches of gray at the temples. Despite the lengthy convalescence, with vigorous physical therapy and workouts, she had maintained her muscle mass and strength. She was sinewy and taut. The only visible difference were the scars on her torso from the surgical incisions and the multiple tubes that had been necessary to reinflate her lungs. She looked at herself dispassionately, and wondered for a moment how she would appear to another. She dismissed the thought quickly. It was a moot point.


She went about the process of dressing absent-mindedly. She did not glance at her reflection again, knowing that the black silk jacket and trousers were perfectly tailored for her, that her loafers were perfectly shined, and that the French cuffs of her white starched shirt were exactly the right length. When the driver let her out in front of the address she had given him, she knew that she was precisely on time. Everything in her life was exactly as it should be - predictable, ordered, and under control.


**********


The room was already full when Cam entered, as she expected it would be. The crowd overflowed the first level, up the stairs to the second floor of the gallery, a noisy mass of murmuring critics, artists, and members of the press. Cam accepted a glass of wine from a passing waiter, and began a slow tour of the area, stopping to study each new canvas. It had been a long time since she had seen so many of her mother's works in one place, and she had not seen any of her most recent works. The hallmark characteristics of her mother style were clearly evident, but Cam was surprised to find that the paintings seemed calmer at their core, with less of the pain that had been so evident in the early years following her father's death.


Eventually, Cam heard her mother's distinctive voice, and gravitated toward it. Her mother was tall like herself, and Cam could see her face despite the crowd of people around her. Marcea appeared relaxed, although something in her eyes spoke of exhilaration. Cam knew it was because she was talking about the thing she loved most in life, her art.


When she had almost reached the group, Cam stopped short, her heart pounding. Blair was standing next to her mother. It was as if someone had struck her, driving the breath from her body. For one moment, her mind was numb. Then every sensation she had been trying to suppress regarding Blair Powell returned. Her pulse raced, her blood pounded, and her hands began to tremble. Blair looked up and their eyes met. Blair's lips parted in surprise, and her blue eyes widened. A faint blush stole across her cheeks. She took an involuntary stepped forward, as if intending to rush toward Cam, then halted uncertainly. Moments passed.


Surprisingly, Blair regained her composure first. She threaded her way through the intervening crowd until she stood in front of Cam. She tilted her head and smiled wistfully. "How are you, Commander?" She asked quietly.


Cam finally found her voice, and answered with as much control as she could muster. "I'm fine, Ms Powell."


Blair studied her carefully. Physically, she did look fine. As striking as ever. But there was a strange flatness in her gaze, and an emptiness in her voice, as if something vital were missing.


Instinctively, Blair touched her arm. She was shocked to feel her tremble. "Are you sure?" she asked again, unable to hide her anxiety.


Cam nodded curtly, trying to hide her turmoil. "You have me at a disadvantage. I didn't see any of our people outside or in the crowd."


"Ever observant, Commander. They're in a car parked across the street." She continued quickly, when she saw Cam frown. Blair's smile widened as she assured Cam that everyone in attendance had been thoroughly prescreened. "I'm quite safe."


Cam finally smiled, and began to relax. "Forgive me. It is not my place to question these things any longer. It was good to see you again, Ms. Powell." She turned to leave, needing to escape from the penetrating blue gaze and the searing touch on her arm.


"Wait, Cam," Blair said impulsively. When Cameron turned back to look at her questioningly, she continued, "I wanted to say -- ' thank you'. It is so inadequate, but - I - thank you."


Cam spoke without thinking. "You don't need to thank me. I couldn't have borne it if anything had happened to you."


Blair grasped her hand, and their fingers entwined instinctively. "Why do you think I would feel any differently?" She questioned, her throat closing on the words. "I was so frightened - don't you know I lo"


"I should go," Cam said desperately. Her carefully constructed barricades were tumbling around her. Every defense she had so carefully constructed was shattering in the face of Blair's simple statement. She felt defenseless, vulnerable, and overwhelmed.


"No,I should go. You came to see your mother. I know she is looking forward to you being here." Blair tried unsuccessfully to hide her bitter disappointment. She didn't think she could stand to be in the same room as Cam and feel the great distance between them. It was like a physical blow. "It was good to see you again, too, Commander. Please know I'll never forget you."


And with that, she was gone.


**********


Marcea kissed her daughter on both cheeks, then grasped both her hands and leaned back, surveying her fondly. "I'm so glad you came, Cameron. I know these aren't your favorite events."


Cam tried to smile, still shaken by her encounter with Blair. "I'm sorry it's been so long. I'm so happy for you."


Marcea detected the turmoil in her daughter's eyes, and glanced briefly around the room. She did not see Blair. She hesitated for a moment, and then spoke gently. "I know that Blair was hoping to see you here, too."


Cam swallowed, replying softly, "We just spoke."


Marcea remained silent, sensing Cameron's struggle for composure. Instinctively, she continued, "I'm sure no one told you, Cameron, but Blair stayed by your side for almost 48 hours after you were injured. She refused to leave until the doctors told us that you were out of danger."


Cam gasped, and her eyes closed briefly. "Itwas her," she whispered.


"Yes," her mother said simply.


Cameron at looked her mother intently, a great weight suddenly lifting from her heart. She smiled, her eyes flickering with a light that had been absent for more than a year. "Thank you, mother. Thank you."


Marcea had no time to answer before Cam turned and swiftly made her way through the crowd and out the door.







Chapter Twenty-One




"I need to see her, Mac," Cam said much more calmly than she felt. "I've been leaving messages for hours."


Mac didn't even consider not telling her. "She's downtown. We know where she is, but it's awkward to make contact at the present time."


Cam didn't need an interpreter. "Okay, so she's in a bar." She took a deep breath, trying to ignore the sinking sensation in her stomach. "Or is it that she's gone home with someone she picked up?"


"No," Mac hastened to add clarify. "She didnt. Shes still at the bar." He didn't think it was his place to tell her that this was the first time in months that Blair had been out to a bar, or that she seemed to have given up her penchant for one night stands.


"I'd appreciate it if youd tell me which one," Cam stated quietly.


"The Hudson Arms," Mac said, indicating one of the seedier bars deep in the village. "Stark is inside somewhere."


Meaning Stark will recognize me if I show up, and he's worried about my reputation"Thanks, Mac," Cam said, not caring in the least what anyone thought.


**********


Thirty-five minutes later Cam was standing at the bar, surreptitiously scanning the room. It was Friday night, after midnight, and crowded with women of all ages, mostly in denim and leather. She didn't see her immediately, but she did see Stark. Stark saw her too, although Stark did not acknowledge her in any way. A slight raise of the eyebrow was all that indicated she had been spotted.


She's getting good, Cam thought with approval. She stopped searching faces, and allowed all of her senses to engage the room, feeling the damp heat of many bodies brushing against her skin; smelling the mixture of alcohol, cologne, and sex in the air; and hearing the murmur of the hunt swirling around her. She sensed rather than saw the ultimate huntress in the crowd.


Tawny blond hair, taut golden body, and a piercing, searching gaze that evaluated, then discarded, possible partners. Finally Blair's focus settled on a dark, lean warrior in tight blue jeans and a sleeveless black T-shirt. The young stud must have felt Blair's appraising glance, because she looked up and moved automatically closer to Blair. Cam didn't need to see any more. She knew exactly what would happen, and how quickly the capture would be consummated.


Not this time


Cam moved quickly, reaching Blair just as the dark-haired youth stretched out a hand to brush Blair's cheek.


Cam grasped the woman's wrist, firmly but not harshly. "Sorry, she's not available."


The younger woman attempted a show of bravado, stiffening as she turned to face Cam. "Oh yeah? Since when?" she said with a sneer.