*

Blair looked up and sketched a wave in the air as Cam walked into her suite, then smiled into the telephone. "I miss you too. Believe me, I'd rather be home than here." Her expression grew somber. "How is it up there?"

Cam removed her jacket and weapon harness and placed them on a small table just inside the door. The sitting room adjoined Blair's bedroom and was furnished much as the other rooms in the White House, with original American period pieces. She walked to the minibar tucked unobtrusively into one corner of the room, pulled a Pellegrino from the small refrigerator, and carried it to the sofa. Blair was curled up on the opposite end talking, Cam surmised, to her best friend and art agent, Diane Bleeker. As Cam sipped the sparkling water, Blair drew her legs up onto the couch and settled her feet in Cam's lap.

"I'm coming up with my father in the morning," Blair said. "I'll call you as soon as I'm free and we'll get together."

Cam rubbed her thumb up and down Blair's instep as she listened to the conversation. Clearly, her lover had been busy in her absence. The president would need to visit the site of the tragedy to show the world that the United States did not bow to terrorism, but the last place Cam wanted Blair was in Manhattan so soon after the attack. There was no way, despite the hundreds of local and federal law enforcement agents scouring the region, that the area could be remotely secure. Guarding the president was going to be a nightmare. Adding Blair to the mix would only complicate matters further. Cam switched her attention to the opposite foot and closed her palm around the delicate bones and muscles beneath the nearly translucent skin, kneading gently. Blair traced the toes of her free foot back and forth along the inside of Cam's thigh.

"You heard from her already!" Blair's voice rose in surprise. "Really—she's still in Manhattan? The news reports said there are hundreds of people still stranded because of the canceled flights." She stretched and pushed her foot higher between Cam's legs. "Well, I guess if she can't get a hotel room, she could always stay in your guest room for a few days." She laughed. "Very convenient. I'll call you tomorrow. See you soon."

"Diane, I take it?" Cam asked as Blair switched off the phone and placed it on the floor beside the sofa.

"Mmm. Apparently Valerie called, and she's temporarily stranded in New York. Diane is very pleased about that,"

"Huh." Cam wasn't altogether comfortable discussing a woman with whom she had been intimate, although under extremely unusual circumstances and in what now felt like a different lifetime. And even though Blair knew about her liaison with Valerie, Diane did not. "What's this about you going to Manhattan tomorrow?"

"I'll fill you in on the details later." Blair pushed the heel of her foot gently against Cam's crotch. "You know, there's nothing on the agenda for today."

Cam grasped the foot teasing between her legs and stilled the entirely too pleasant motion. "I expect to get called back to Justice for my debriefing this afternoon."

Blair craned her neck toward the Seth Thomas clock on the mantelpiece. "It's not noon yet." She rocked Cam's thigh with her other foot and her expression grew distant. When she spoke again, the bantering tone had disappeared and her voice was thick, as if with unshed tears. "You know, I keep thinking about Cynthia and Mac. When I do, all I want is your skin against mine. I need to hear you breathe. You, feel like the only solid thing in my world right now."

"Oh, Christ," Cam whispered. She lifted Blair's legs and slid closer to her on the couch before slipping her arm behind Blair's waist and drawing her into an embrace. She kissed her mouth, then nuzzled her face in thick blond hair that smelled of sunshine and roses. "I love you. And God knows, I want you."

Blair pulled back, her eyes narrowing. "But?"

"But we need to talk about a few things."

"What happened with Carlisle this morning?" Blair withdrew from Cam's embrace and inched away, as if she wanted space in which to carry out the conversation. "What's wrong?"

Cam shook her head, wishing that Blair could not read her quite so well. "Nothing's wrong."

"There's something you're not telling me. You promised me you wouldn't do that."

"No. Stewart called me right before the briefing this morning, so there was no time to tell you."

"Tell me what, Cameron?" Blair's voice had grown cold and her eyes were a hard, icy blue.

Fast and hard seemed to be the only way to do it, because Blair was best at handling sharp, swift pain. "I've been replaced. Stark's your new security chief."

Blair grew utterly still. "You can't be serious."

"I am."

"Son of a bitch!" Blair jumped up and paced in a small, tight circle before storming back to stand within inches of Cam's legs. "They can't do this. Does my father know?"

"I don't know. I think he does, bu—" Cam caught Blair's wrist as she was about to pick up the phone. "Wait."

"For what? For you to tell me one more time that I have to accept everyone else's decisions when they affect my life?"

"This is all about your life, baby," Cam said gently. "It's about taking care of you the best way possible."

"You take care of me. I take care of you." Blair pulled her arm from Cam's grip. "That's what lovers do."

Cam stood, but she did not try to hold her. "This isn't about us as a couple. It's about you as the first daughter. I've been relieved of my command because I almost let someone assassinate you. The entire team has been suspended, with the exception of Stark."

Blair's head jerked back as if she'd been struck. "Everyone? This is crazy."

"A board of inquiry will investigate what happened, including the possibility that other members of your security team were involved. As soon as our people are cleared, I'll push Carlisle to get them back on duty."

"Why did they make an exception for Stark?"

"Because I insisted. Because she put herself between you and the assailants, and had she been involved with the assassination attempt, she never would've done that."

Because she took a bullet meant for you.

Blair sank down on the sofa and rested her head against the back, staring up at the ceiling. "I'm going home. I can't stay here like this."

"Your apartment isn't secure. Hell, New York City isn't secure." Cam settled next to her and clasped Blair's hand. "Just give it a few weeks, please. Just until we have a better idea of the scope of these attacks."

Blair turned her head and stared at Cam. "While I'm living here under twenty-four-hour guard, where are you going to be?"

"I'll stay in my DC apartment. Your father wanted me to investigate the assault at the Aerie, and I'm still going to do that, one way or the other."

"What about us?"

"I'm not letting you go anywhere without me. If you travel, I'm coming."

A faint smile flickered across Blair's mouth. "Kind of like a groupie?"

"Your number one fan."

"What about at night?"

"With the press corps downstairs?" Cam's gaze flickered around the room, and she sighed. "I can't stay here every night."

"Then I'm staying with you at your place."

Cam groaned. "Jesus, if you can just be patient a few-—"

"No."

"Blair," Cam sighed and brushed her mouth over the top of Blair's hand. "All right, as long you promise to stay here if I'm out of town."

"Until I go home."

"Agreed."

Blair smiled. "There, see? That wasn't so difficult, was it?"

"Perfectly painless." Cam leaned forward and kissed her, sliding her fingers into Blair's hair. She let herself linger in the soft, warm comfort of Blair's mouth, savoring the press of Blair's body along the length of hers. The connection steadied her, centered her, and she would need that in the days ahead.

Chapter Five

S o what about that suggestion?" Blair slipped her fingertips inside the waistband of Cam's trousers and brushed the back of her fingers over Cam's abdomen.

"You mean the one where we ignore the fact that I'm out of a job and that we're in the White House where someone might notice if we never leave the bedroom?" Cam curled both arms around Blair's waist as they swayed together, hearts and bodies attuned. "God, you smell so good."

Blair laughed softly and pulled Cam's shirt free. Her laugh became a soft purr when her hand met skin, and Cam stiffened, emitting a throaty growl. "I was thinking more along the lines where we have a quickie, short but intense. Maybe right here on the sofa. I seem to remember you liking it quite a bit when I knelt between your le—"

The phone rang, and they both cursed simultaneously. With a sigh, Cam stepped away, automatically tucking in her shirt.

"Don't be so quick to give up on that idea," Blair muttered as she snatched up the phone. "Blair Powell...Hi...Yes, she's here... When?...Okay, fine." She clicked off the phone and tossed it onto the sofa, then faced Cam with a frustrated expression. "I feel as if I'm in that groundhog movie. The same goddamn scene keeps replaying."

"Your father?" Cam was already on her way to retrieve her jacket and weapon.

"Just about. Lucy Washburn."

Cam turned as she shrugged into her shoulder harness. Lucinda Washburn was the White House chief of staff and the second most powerful person in the nation. Others might assume that the chairman of the Joint Chiefs or the head of the State Department might hold that position, but Lucy Washburn was the president's confidante and his oldest adviser. She was also an accomplished politician in her own right and somehow always managed to juggle the simmering Capitol Hill rivalries, shifting loyalties, and internecine power struggles to the president's advantage. "She wants to see me?"