Blair took her drink, scarcely noticing the appraising glance that the bartender gave her along with the glass, and turned to look at the other women in the room. As always at Diane's gatherings, the women were a mix of aspiring artists, many of whom were Diane's clients, young professionals, or bar dykes from the Village who were there as escorts or just tagging along with someone they knew and hoping to get lucky. Diane always managed to provide something for everyone.


"I'm not interested in adate ," Blair said acerbically, making an effort not to look in Cam's direction. She had years of practice at ignoring her security detail. Once she had gotten used to their ubiquitous presence, they had simply become background noise. When she was a preteen, it hadn't been as difficult, because her father had only been a governor then. Other than the fact that state troopers often drove her to school and parked nearby while she engaged in after-school activities, she had been able to pretend she was like everyone else. Unfortunately, at fifteen she learned that she wasn't. That was when she and her prep school roommate had made love for the first time, and Blair had learned that there are certain things best kept secret.


When her father became Vice President, and it was apparent that he would be the party's nominee for President after eight years, the security around her had intensified. She became very good at convincing herself that she wasn't being watched almost twenty-four hours a day, but there was nothing she could do to ignore Cameron Roberts's presence. She could feel her as strongly as if they stood touching.


Diane smiled knowingly. "I was trying to be polite when I said date. I'm sure the very charming Dr. Coleman would be just as happy to spend the night with you, if that's what you had in mind."


Blair turned and met Diane's eyes, replying caustically, "If and when I decide I want someone to fuck, I'm quite certain I can manage the arrangements on my own."


If Diane was taken aback by Blair's sharp retort, she didn't show it. She knew from long experience that the best way to get Blair to talk about anything substantial was to anger her. Blair had gotten much too proficient at disguising almost all of her emotions, but when she was angry, she forgot to hide them. Diane was one of the few people who could actually goad her into revealing herself, which was probably the reason they were still friends. "Well, if I had that criminally good-looking number watching me all night with that smoldering expression in her eyes, I probably wouldn't be looking for anyone else either."


Blair didn't have to look at Cam to know exactly what Diane referred to. Cam had a way of looking at her that made her feel as if she were the only woman in the room. She reminded herself that Cam was only doing her job, but no one else had ever looked at her in quite that way. Paula Stark, for all her competence, and despite the night they had shared together, never looked at her that way. Blair's hand trembled as she raised the martini glass to her lips. "Don't, Diane. Not tonight."


Diane relented. Blair's voice was raw, and her eyes were wounded. She touched Blair's hand fleetingly, and said quietly, "I don't care what youthink is happening between you two, she cares. She can't hide it anymore than you can." She tossed her head in a practiced motion, her blond hair sweeping her shoulders, and began to move away. "You may not be in the mood for company tonight, but I am. It's time for me to prowl."


Blair watched Diane move sinuously off through the crowd and wondered how long it would take her to make her way around the room to Cam. And she wished to god she didn't care.




Chapter Nine

When the well-built brunette in the tee shirt, jeans and Nikes walked in the door at a little before one a.m., more than a few heads turned in appreciation. She looked like an ex-soccer player, which, among other things, she was. It had taken Ellen Grant a little over an hour from the time Ed Fielding tracked her down at her mother-in-law's in West Chester to make it to the party at Diane Bleeker's Upper East Side apartment. She had considered changing her clothes and then decided not to, figuring she'd probably fit in with at least some part of the gathering.


Cam sighed with uncharacteristic relief at the sight of her backup. It wasn't so much her bone-deep tiredness that was wearing at her, but the necessity of watching Blair dance with the same woman for the last half hour while trying to ignore the fact that the woman's hand rested very subtly on Blair's left breast.


"Sorry, Commander," Ellen Grant said quietly when they managed to work their way over to one another. "I was at my husband's birthday party."


"No apologies required, Grant. I regret the need to call you away from your family." Cam passed her hand across her eyes, rubbing them briefly, then smiled thinly. "I'm afraid I got caught short tonight. You're bailing me out."


Grant glanced at her in concern, catching the strain in her voice and wondering if she was all right. Cameron Roberts was a legend to every agent in the field because of what she had done that day in front of Blair Powell's apartment, but to her own team, she was a flesh-and-blood hero. "Not a problem. I can take over now, Commander."


"Yes," Cam said. "Thank you."


Instead of leaving, Cam walked through the room and out onto a small iron-railed balcony with a view of Central Park. She took a deep breath of the crisp night air and rested both hands on the railing, aware of the ache in her left side along the ten-inch scar between her fourth and fifth ribs. It didn't usually bother her, or at least most of the time she could ignore it.


"Off duty now, Commander?" Blair asked quietly from beside her. "You look like you could use some sleep."


Cam, still leaning forward, turned her head and glimpsed the quick flicker of moonlight playing over Blair's face. The sight caught at her heart. Surrendering for just an instant to the soft undercurrent of warmth in Blair's voice and the real concern in her gaze, Cam let herself relax.


"Yes," Cam answered eventually, "airplane seats are always a little short for me to sleep in very well. Grant's taking over now."


They both knew that wasn't strictly true. She was never off duty, through choice as well as convention.


Blair stood next to her at the rail, close enough to touch her, but being careful not to. She didn't trust herself enough to do that. She wasn't even sure why she had followed her outside. But the night was disappearing and they were here, almost alone. Tomorrow people would surround them again, and she had no idea when they would have even a few moments of privacy. She couldn't bear to see her go, not yet. "What's going to happen now?"


Cam watched the headlights far below trace patterns of lights through the treetops and considered the future. It never even occurred to her not to inform Blair of her plans, although some might consider that inappropriate. It was Blair's life that was affected, and she deserved to know. "We'll need to go to high alert status. I'll talk to Mac and Stark about that tomorrow. You'll need agents physically with you whenever possible, extra security at public functions, and less information about your travel plans made available to the press."


"Everything will be closing down around me, won't it?" Blair asked, sounding nearly as done-in as Cam appeared.


"These are the things that will impact you most directly, yes," Cam allowed. There was much more that needed to be done, and she hoped she could accomplish them without making Blair even unhappier. "I'm sorry."


Blair believed her. It had taken more than raw physical attraction to capture her heart. Cam, as no one before her, understood. Cam understood how she felt to be never alone, to be never free, to be never capable of spontaneous action. Cam understood even though she couldn't change it.


Blair did touch her then, a brief brush of her fingers over Cam's hand. "I know."


She caught her breath as Cam captured her fingers and caressed them gently. The light pressure of their palms sliding together was more achingly sweet than another woman's naked body pressing against her in the heat of lust. She stood there, buffeted by the chill night air, her head light with wanting her, and dared not move. Dared not break the fragile bond.


Finally Cam sighed and released her. She was so very tired and she couldn't trust herself with Blair so near. She had just needed to touch her so much. And now she needed to go.


What she had to say next came hard. It was hard for her to even think it, but she had to. Everything between them had changed drastically almost overnight. They'd spent five frantic days trying to assuage a yearlong thirst, and nothing had really been settled when they'd parted, except they both believed there'd be a next time. She thought then that they'd have time to tackle the issues of Blair's notoriety and her own professional ethics, but the reappearance of Lover Boy had changed all of that. Now whatever personal relationship they might have had was secondary. She knew Blair was hurt and angry, and she'd seen Blair in the arms of too many lovers not to know what she did when she was hurt. She said what she had to say. "If you don't plan on going home tonight, please tell Grant. Let them protect you."