Following Cam's gaze, Blair smiled lazily. "Now, put your hands on them." When Cam cupped her breasts, thumbs and forefingers automatically encircling her nipples, Blair closed her eyes and arched her back. "Oh, yes."

"You have such beautiful breasts," Cam murmured hoarsely.

"Just keep touching me." Blair shifted a few inches until her legs straddled Cam's thigh and then, in one swift motion, insinuated her fingers beneath the waistband of Cam's gym shorts and pushed her hand down between her legs.

Cam jerked, groaning in surprise.

"Shh," Blair soothed as she caught Cam's clitoris between her fingers. "Quietly, now."

"I can't," Cam said desperately. "Jesus, Blair."

"Squeeze my nipples." As she spoke, Blair stroked Cam's length, pulling the blood into the tense tissues beneath her fingers, teasing the nerve endings that already pulsed and quivered on the brink of explosion. As she worked Cam toward orgasm, Cam's fingers tugged spasmodically at her breasts, and the sharp points of pain became sweet pleasure in her depths. "That's it. That's it, darling...hold my breasts in your hands while I make you come,"

Shivering, Cam closed her eyes tightly and braced herself for the orgasm that was fast climbing along her spine. She couldn't think, couldn't be sure what she was doing with her hands, didn't want to do anything except feel the weight and heat and wonder of Blair's breasts against her skin as she came. Her knees buckled and only Blair's body straddling hers kept her upright. She groaned and choked back a cry and came hard in Blair's hand.

Blair watched Cam's face as the orgasm consumed her. I will never be able to paint anything as beautiful as you are in this moment. Feeling her breasts cradled in Cam's tender hands, Cam's passion flooding hers, she fought sudden tears and failed. Despite the moisture dampening her cheeks, as she rested her head against Cam's shoulder, Blair knew nothing but joy.

1930 7 September 2001

Cam knocked on Blair's door and checked her watch. Five minutes earlier, Mac had confirmed that the vehicles were waiting streetside, Captain Landers had verified that her people were in position on the perimeter, and the advance team at the gallery had radioed an all clear. Everything was set. Everything was as secure as she could make it.

The door opened, and Cam allowed herself a minute to be no one other than Blair's lover. She found Blair attractive in anything she wore, whether faded jeans and paint-splattered T-shirt or an elegant evening gown and diamonds. This evening, Blair had chosen a sleeveless black dress, so simple in design that it appeared to have no design at all. The shimmering silk sheath was scoop-necked, cut just low enough to reveal the barest hint of cleavage before it fell away in a gentle sweep that accentuated the sensual strength of Blair's body. Sapphires, the same deep blue as her eyes, glinted at her ears and throat, and tonight, in distinct contrast to her usual style at official functions, she had left her hair loose. The golden curls teased along her neck and shoulders, and it was all Cam could do not to drag her fingers through them. "Christ, you look beautiful."

"Thank you," Blair replied quietly. A smile flickered and was quickly gone. "Can you believe I'm nervous?"

"I can imagine." Cam leaned forward and gently kissed her, running the tip of her index finger along the edge of Blair's jaw. "But you're a wonderful artist, and your work is very special. Just enjoy tonight—you deserve it."

"I'll try." Blair hooked her arm through Cam's as they walked toward the elevator. Her lover wore a slate gray suit and open-collared charcoal silk shirt that lent her long, lean form a sharp, edgy look. "Your jaw looks better. And you look hot."

"I'm not supposed to look hot. I'm your escort, and I'm also working." Frowning, Cam keyed the elevator. "What I'm supposed to look like tonight is background."

"It's not working," Blair stated, her tension easing as they rode down to the lobby. "Well, it's working, but probably not the way you planned."

Just as the doors opened to reveal Stark, waiting to escort Blair to the Suburban, Cam muttered, "Don't start. I have to concentrate."

Blair laughed and forgot entirely why she had been nervous.

2043 7 September 2001

Blair stood with Marcea before one of her oils, their arms linked. "I'm still not certain that the texture of the paint is right for the tone of the work."

"Oh, I think it is." Marcea tilted her head, sweeping the canvas again. "If it were any thinner, you'd lose some of the impact of the color."

"It was so nice of you to come all the way East for this," Blair said. "I know how busy you are."

Marcea gave her a fond smile. "I wouldn't have missed it. First of all, I love your work. And," she slid her arm around Blair's waist in a gentle hug, "I wanted to be here for you. I know how difficult it can be with your heart up there on the walls for anyone to see. Not that you have anything to worry about."

"I've had paintings in galleries before, but never a solo showing." Blair glanced around the room and saw so many pieces of herself on display. For the most part, the people who strolled about were friends whom she trusted, but even so, she rarely exposed so much of her soul to anyone. Only Cam has seen it all. "It will almost be easier tomorrow night at the open house, with strangers. Somehow, their reactions don't seem as critical."

"I'd like to tell you that you'll get used to it, but you probably never will. Every time you let one go, you'll wonder if anyone will understand what you saw when you painted it, what you felt in your heart that compelled you to create it." Marcea shrugged, her expression distant. "But you'll keep doing it, because that's who you are."

Strangely, Blair was comforted by the sentiment, because coming from Marcea, an artist whom she revered, her own uncertainties seemed far less momentous. "It's a wonderful feeling in the moment, though, isn't it? When in the midst of painting you begin to see those indefinable emotions coming to life on the canvas."

Marcea's eyes brightened and she laughed. "I won't say it's the best thing I've ever experienced, but it comes close."

"Yes." Unconsciously, Blair's eyes drifted to Cam, who stood a few feet away, her attention seemingly focused entirely on the room. Despite the remote expression on her lover's face, Blair was certain that Cam knew precisely where she was. It comes close — but it can't compare to her.

"Everything is all right, I take it?" Marcea questioned gently, following Blair's gaze. "The press has left you alone about your relationship?"

Blair shrugged. "We're still getting the questions every time I'm out in public, but there isn't much more to say than what we've already said. For the time being, the newshounds are content with their usual speculations."

"Well, I suppose that's the best you could hope for then."

"Apparently." Blair gave a start as she spied Diane talking with another woman on the far side of the room. "Would you excuse me for a few minutes?"

"Of course. I want to have some time alone with these wonderful paintings."

Blair kissed Marcea on the cheek and headed across the room to where Diane stood with Valerie Ross. Singly, either woman would have been considered striking. Both were blond, fair skinned, fine boned and classically beautiful, and both radiated sensuality and confidence. Standing side by side, however, they were breathtaking.

Diane radiated the golden heat of sunlight. Her body language and sultry voice always reminded Blair of a young Lauren Bacall. In contrast, Valerie—Claire—was Bergman. Deceptively cool and remote on the surface, but ice was capable of burning, too. Under other circumstances, Blair would have enjoyed watching the two of them together, would have enjoyed speculating how one, or both, might have responded to her in an intimate setting. Now, she registered their individual magnetism and how together their allure was magnified, but she felt no compulsion, no desire, to experience any part of it herself.

The two women were so deep in conversation that they did not notice Blair until she stood beside them, "Good evening."

"Blair!" Diane kissed her cheek, then indicated her companion. "This is Valerie Ross, one of the art dealers here for the preview. This is her first time with us."

Blair looked into Valerie's eyes as she extended her hand, noticing as she hadn't that night in DC under the dim glow of the streetlights how piercingly intelligent those blue eyes were. "Blair Powell, Ms. Ross."

"Hello."

"I'm happy that you could join us this evening," Blair said smoothly as she released Valerie's hand. The other woman's grip had been firm, her palm warm and dry. She didn't appear nervous, but she was watching Blair intently.

"I have a client who saw one of your works in San Francisco not long ago and was very interested in what you're showing here."

Blair frowned. "San Francisco? I didn't show anything..." She laughed. "The sketch that Marcea Casells included in her recent show?"

Valerie nodded. "Yes. Apparently my client was quite captivated by it and was finally able to cajole Ms. Casells into revealing your name. I hope I haven't gotten her into any trouble."

"Not at all. Have you had a chance to look around this evening?"

"I've only just arrived." Valerie gave Diane a slow smile. "Ms. Bleeker and I were getting acquainted."

Blair was astounded to see Diane blush. She didn't think she'd ever witnessed that particular reaction from her friend before. "Is there anything in particular you're interested in?"