“All right,” Preston said. “We’re going to go through some basic questions first.”

Wes knew the basics of the polygraph. She understood that some questions were designed to elicit a yes-or-no answer, and those responses formed the baseline comparators for other answers. She also knew it was best not to try to figure out which questions were the critical comparators. “I’m ready.”

Preston made some notes while Evyn connected the galvanic skin recorder to Wes’s right arm. Wes was aware of sweating slightly. Unusual for her. Even under the tensest conditions, she rarely perspired. She wasn’t concerned about the test, but she couldn’t shake the lingering connection she felt to Evyn Daniels, and the disorienting effect of her presence.

“All right, Dr. Masters,” Preston said, making a mark on a scrolling roll of paper. “We’re going to begin. Is your name Captain Wesley Masters?”

“Yes.”

Preston alternated asking her routine questions—her term of service, her duty stations, her field experience—interspersed with pointed questions.

“Have you ever been arrested?”

“No.”

“Have you ever used illegal drugs, recreationally or in conjunction with an assignment?”

“No.”

“Have you ever met with foreign nationals hostile to the U.S.?”

“No.”

“Have you ever met with known terrorists?”

“No.”

“The Ku Klux Klan, the American Nazi Party, the American Christian Army?”

“No. No. No.”

She answered no so many times she began to feel as if she was revealing she had no life outside her job. But then, she didn’t.

Finally, Preston turned off the machine and Evyn sat back. She gave Wes the slightest smile, and for some reason, Wes’s uneasiness disappeared.

“We’ll let you know the results as soon as they’ve been analyzed,” Preston said.

Wes rolled her shoulders and stretched her neck. “Good, thank you. I wonder if you could tell me how to get to the medical offices from here.”

“I’ll take you,” Evyn said.

“And someplace to eat?”

Evyn glanced at her watch. “It’s almost sixteen hundred. I’ll show you a good place to get a late lunch.”

“I don’t have much time,” Wes said, not wanting a repeat of the intimacy of the night before. She needed a buffer between them if the disappointment she’d experienced earlier was any indication of how strongly Evyn affected her.

“I’m sure your team can wait another forty-five minutes. POTUS isn’t scheduled to leave the House today. Whatever activity there is in the clinic is already being handled by your staff. Lunch first. Then I’ll take you over to meet your staff.”

“Thank you,” Wes said, realizing when she had been given an order in the form of a suggestion. She’d have to get used to that, since Evyn was in charge. And since part of Lucinda Washburn’s unspoken message had been to assess those on the list, she’d best get on with her job. “Lunch it is.”

Chapter Nine

Cam leaned against the doorway to Blair’s studio in the house they’d purchased not far from Tanner and Adrienne’s on Whitley Point. In the middle of winter this far north, sunset came early, and the late-day sun slanted low on the horizon. Diffuse golden light cast a halo around Blair’s face as she concentrated on the canvas propped up on the easel in front of her. Her paint-spattered jeans rode low on her hips, and her faded black T-shirt with a silk-screened Andy Warhol slid up and down over the hollow of her spine as she captured the colors of the sea in gray, and green, and blue. A strip of skin two inches wide just above the waistband of her Luckys winked into view and disappeared to the rhythm of her brushstrokes in a hypnotic cadence that captured Cam’s attention and made her throat go dry. She knew that spot—the sweet softness of the skin, the delicate ripple of bone beneath supple muscle, the breathy moans when her fingers dipped and stroked. She’d rested her hand in just that spot while they’d danced at their wedding.

She smiled. They hadn’t really celebrated privately yet. By the time they’d said good-bye to the last of their guests, thanked Tanner and Adrienne for opening their home and putting up with the weeks of heightened security, and made it back to their place down island, they’d fallen into bed exhausted. After sleeping far later than usual, they’d both needed to unwind. Blair wanted to paint. Cam needed to move. Now she wanted nothing more than to be right where she was, looking at her wife.

“Have a good run?” Blair asked, touching a dab of purple to the swell of a wave.

“The beach is a bitch. I’d forgotten how much harder it is to run on sand.”

“Tire you out?” Blair wiped her brush on a cloth and set it in a tray next to the easel and turned, her gaze slowly sliding from Cam’s face down her body.

“Just getting started.”

Blair smiled slowly. “You’re all sweaty.”

“Sorry about that.” Cam fanned her fingers over the center of her chest, and Blair’s eyes flared with heat, making her nipples tighten and pressure surge in her groin. “Stark made me promise I’d let her join me when her leg healed.”

“Oh, I can just see that—I know she hates to run. You’ve been torturing her again by playing to her need to best the boss.”

“Ex-boss. And all Secret Service agents are competitive by nature. I didn’t have to play her at all.”

Laughing, Blair crossed the room with the easy grace of a trained martial artist. She gripped the bottom of Cam’s T-shirt and jerked it up and over Cam’s head, tossing it onto the floor behind them. She leaned against Cam’s body, pinning her against the doorjamb. “Well, I like you sweaty and you’re going to need a shower anyhow—I’m going to get paint all over you.”

Cam circled Blair’s waist and gripped her ass, snugging Blair’s hips into the vee of her pelvis. “Is it washable paint?”

“I might have to work on it.” Blair nipped at Cam’s chin and kissed her, molding her mouth to Cam’s, teasing the seam of her lips with the tip of her tongue. “Rub a little here and there.”

“Make sure you get a lot on me, then.” Cam pulled her closer, enjoying the heat spreading through her belly, the rising beat of arousal, the anticipation of the pleasure to come. Blair’s hands covered her breasts, thumbs lightly brushing her nipples, and she tilted her head back, giving Blair room to scrape her teeth down her throat. “Your mouth is so hot—God, Blair.”

“You taste so good,” Blair mumbled as she nipped and kissed her way to the hollow of Cam’s throat. She licked the salty skin there and moaned softly.

Cam pulled the tie holding Blair’s hair back, letting her thick waves fall free. She tangled her fingers in them, cupping the back of Blair’s head, guiding Blair’s mouth lower, to the curve of her breast. Blair’s teeth closed over her nipple and Cam jerked. They were alone in that part of the house, but several of Blair’s security agents were in the kitchen—and she was losing her grip more with every stroke of Blair’s tongue. “Shower soon?”

“Mmm, in a minute,” Blair whispered, licking a warm path down the underside of Cam’s breast.

“Blair,” Cam warned, her thighs starting to shake.

Blair laughed, pressing the flat of her hand to the center of Cam’s belly, making slow, tight circles, knowing the motion would work Cam up even faster.

“You looked beautiful,” Cam whispered, “standing over there in the sunlight.”

Blair stilled, then raised her head, her blue eyes dark and questioning. “You always catch me off guard, Cam. You mean that, don’t you.”

“Every time I see you, I fall in love again.”

“I believe you when you say those things. You make my heart melt.”

Cam framed Blair’s face and kissed her softly. Her body demanded Blair’s hands, Blair’s mouth, Blair’s fingers, but her heart wanted nothing more than to hold Blair close with her last breath. “I love you. You’re all I want.”

“Cam.” Blair’s fingers trembled against Cam’s skin. “I never thought I’d have this. You undo me.”

The tears shimmering on Blair’s lashes were Cam’s undoing. She only wanted her love to make Blair smile. “Don’t worry—I’ll never tell.”

Laughing, the hint of vulnerability erased by joy, Blair closed her eyes and rested her cheek against Cam’s shoulder. “Good. I’d hate for my badass reputation to suffer.”

Cam skimmed her hand under Blair’s T-shirt and stroked her back. “Want to take that shower with me?”

Blair fingers skated lower, brushing softly between Cam’s thighs. “Want me to finish what I started?”

“Oh yeah. Several times.”

Laughing, Blair took Cam’s hand and dragged her down the hall. “I’ll see what I can do.”

*

“Five Guys?” Wes said when Evyn stopped in front of the red-and-white checkered burger joint.

“What? You don’t like burgers? Are you a vegetarian?”

“No.” Wes shook her head. “I think my coronaries can take it. A burger would be great.”

“Well, these are great burgers.” Evyn reached for the door but Wes was there first, pushing it open and waiting for her to pass. “You know that’s very retro, right?”

“What?” Wes let the door close behind them and followed Evyn to the counter.

“Holding the door for a woman.”

“Does it bother you?”

“Do you always do it?”

“If I don’t have to knock someone down to get there first.”

Evyn laughed. “Chivalry just comes naturally to you?”

“I don’t know. Is that what you call it?”

Evyn almost said I call it sexy, but caught herself just in time. Wes really didn’t know her actions were both charming and unusual, and that made what might have been annoying in someone else just plain attractive. “I guess you take the officer-and-a-gentleman thing seriously.”

“I do.”

“So you don’t just rely on the uniform to turn heads?”