"She's not my Claire," Cam pointed out. "And—"

"I notice that you didn't disagree with the rest of my assessment," Blair interjected conversationally, but her eyes glinted like shards of glass in the sunlight.

For a moment, Cam couldn't follow the direction of the discussion, and then she laughed. Not the wisest thing to do, but she couldn't help herself. "You're kidding! You can't actually think I'd look at any other woman in the world when I have you."

"You've done a hell of a lot more than look at her." Blair couldn't even think about Cam being with another woman, let alone acknowledge that she'd been with someone so obviously beautiful and undoubtedly accomplished. In everything. It made her want to hurl breakable objects.

"That was before you," Cam said gently. "Now, there's only you, and there will only ever be you."

Blair blinked. "I hate it when you do that."

"What?"

"Make me forget why I'm mad at you."

Cam stood and stepped between Blair's legs, resting both hands on her lover's waist. She kissed her lightly on the mouth and grinned. "I love you."

Blair bumped her head against Cam's chest. "You'd better, because I swear to God, I won't be accountable for my actions otherwise."

Laughing quietly, Cam eased an arm around Blair's shoulder and leaned against the counter with Blair resting along the curve of her body. "Believe me, you have nothing to worry about."

"So what's going on?" Blair regarded Cam curiously. "With Claire?"

"Apparently, she's not Claire. Well, she is, or at least was, but she's also Valerie Ross."

"An alias?"

"Nope." Cam gently massaged the muscles in Blair's shoulders. "According to our records check, she really is Valerie Ross."

"And is she really an art dealer?"

Cam nodded. "Apparently so."

"Well. She is quite the mystery woman." Blair hooked her fingers over Cam's belt and beneath the waistband of her trousers, rubbing the back of her hand over Cam's stomach. "High-class Washington call girl, high-rolling art dealer, and drop-dead gorgeous femme fatale, I'm going to have to hurt her."

"We can't find anything to suggest she's a threat," Cam replied quietly, "but I can have Diane try to reach her and rescind the invitation. Or I can have Mac stop her at the door."

"Why?" Blair's tone was curious. Unconsciously, she pulled the tail of Cam's shirt loose so she could touch her palm to skin.

"Because this is a special night for you, and I don't want anything to spoil it."

Blair leaned away far enough so that she could meet her lover's eyes. "You'd do that?"

A look of confusion crossed Cam's face. "Of course."

"I don't mind if she comes." Blair thought of the few brief moments late one night standing beneath a streetlight with Cam's lover, if that's what Claire—Valerie—truly had been. She remembered a beautiful woman with deep sadness in her eyes. She'd recognized the sadness born of loneliness because she'd felt it so often herself. "She probably doesn't even realize we'll be there. Often, when the gallery has a private showing for a few select dealers before the opening, the artist isn't present. Besides, if she's got a client who's interested, she couldn't turn down the invitation. It's bad for business."

Surprised, Cam shrugged. "I'm not interested in her reasons. I'm only interested in what's best for you."

"It's fine, darling." Blair stood and put her free arm around Cam's neck while smoothing her palm up and down Cam's abdomen. She leaned hard into Cam with her thighs and pelvis, rolling her hips subtly. "Now, are you coming to the gym with me to spar?"

"Blair," Cam whispered, her voice husky. "It will hardly be a fair match if I'm too swollen to walk."

Blair chuckled. "All's fair in love and war, Commander."

1445 07Sep01

Five men crowded around a glass-topped dining-room table in a four-room condominium overlooking Central Park. None of them noticed the view. A blueprint was spread out in the center of the table, and several of the men held down the corners with their hands., ,

"The layout is simple," the brown-haired strike team leader said, punctuating his words with a finger tapping on the surface of the diagram. "Front and rear entrances, here and here."

"Guarded?" a gravelly voiced, heavyset man asked.

With an irritated flicker of his eyes at the interruption, the leader replied, "Not the rear, no. Routinely, there is a man posted only in the front lobby. The second elevator to the penthouse"—he pointed—"is keyed, but the common one to the rest of the building is not. The penthouse elevator can be called from the lobby, the command center-—here, or from the penthouse floor."

"So," a sandy-haired, fresh-faced younger man commented, "we have two possible routes of access: from the lobby with a frontal assault, or, if that fails, from a flanking maneuver on the upper floors."

"Exactly." The team leader pointed to the rear entrance. "And this is the only exit other than through the lobby. It's easy to secure, and with all the rest of the confusion, if we move quickly, we should be out before anyone knows what's happened."

"Let's run through it then," the heavyset man suggested impatiently. "We've only got three days."

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

1523 7 September 2001

" L et me see that in the light," Blair said, reaching for Cam's chin.

"It's nothing," Cam said quickly, drawing her head away. The movement sent a hot stabbing pain into the base of her skull. She barely managed not to wince.

"Damn it, Cameron, it's not nothing. I can see the bruise from here." Blair stepped between Cam and the single bench in the center of the room, effectively preventing her from moving anywhere in the tiny women's changing area-—too small to be called a locker room—in the far corner of the hard-core gym where she had kickboxed for almost two years. "What happened? You completely missed the block."

"Timing was off."

"Your timing is never off."

Cam worked her jaw back and forth experimentally. It hurt, but her teeth came together normally and everything seemed stable. "It's not broken. It'll be okay after a little ice."

Blair regarded Cam with a mixture of anger and concern, "And you've never missed that block before. Are you still upset about Claire?"

Cam's brows rose. "No. I wasn't even thinking about her."

"Then what were you thinking about?" Blair snapped. "Because it sure wasn't sparring. All you had to do to counter that kick was step into my body and take me..." Her eyes widened. Step into my body and take me down. Into my body. Into my breast.

Blair thumped her palm into the center of Cam's chest and backed her against the three rickety metal lockers, her face an inch from her lover's, her voice low, controlled, and filled with fury, "God damn it, I could've broken your neck, not just your jaw. If you didn't want to spar with me because you were worried about hurting me, you should've told me."

"It wasn't intentional," Cam said quietly. "I just hesitated when I realized where you'd take the hit."

"So you let me kick you in the face instead." Blair touched her fingers gently to the swelling on Cam's jaw, "God."

Cam settled her arms around Blair's waist and kissed her forehead, taking care not to move her head too much. The pain had actually subsided to a dull throb. She'd been hit before, and she knew no serious damage had been done. "It was just an accident. Next time I'll be sure to toss you on your ass. Hard, if that will make you happy."

Blair laughed in spite of herself, nestling her face against Cam's chest. "I hate for you to be hurt."

"I know." Cam untied the rolled red bandanna that Blair wore around her forehead when she sparred. She tossed it onto the bench behind them and combed her fingers through the damp tresses at her lover's neck. "Is everything okay with you?"

"I've got a sports bra on that's tight enough to cut off my circulation. My breast is fine." Blair tilted her head back and kissed the darkening smudge at the angle of the left side of Cam's jaw. "More than I can say for that."

"Mmm. I think that might have made it all better." Cam rested her head back against the flaking, green-painted locker, enjoying the sensation of Blair in her arms. Sparring with Blair always got her blood up, because Blair was the most beautiful when she was at her strongest. In the ring, with her muscled arms exposed, a cutoff T-shirt baring her stomach, and her toned legs dancing over the canvas, she was magnificent.

"What are you thinking about?" Blair murmured, kissing the pulse that beat at the base of Cam's neck. "Your heart just started hammering like crazy."

"You," Cam whispered. "I was thinking about what an incredible woman you are and how much you excite me."

The unexpected answer and the absolute seriousness in Cam's voice turned Blair's insides to liquid heat. "Don't move." She licked a tiny dab of sweat that had pooled in the hollow between Cam's collarbones with the tip of her tongue. Nearly purring, she stretched languidly against Cam's body. "You taste good."

Cam sighed, closing her eyes. "You feel good."

"Yeah, I do." Blair leaned back, her legs braced against Cam's, and pulled off her T-shirt.

"Blair," Cam warned.

"We're the only two women in the gym, Cam." Blair spoke quietly as she reached behind her and unhooked her bra. "Take this off for me."

Cam slipped her fingers beneath the shoulder straps and slid the bra down Blair's arms, exposing her breasts. She looked down, drawing a quick breath as she watched the sweat-glistening nipples harden in the air. "Oh, Christ."