Blair studied their joined hands, then met Cam’s gaze. “All right.”

Lucinda crossed her legs and folded her hands in her lap. “A month ago you would have made me very happy. Unfortunately, we can’t back out now because too many eyes are watching. Plus, we can’t have it appear as if your father is capitulating to the vocal right.”

“You can’t force us to get married,” Blair objected. She ran a hand through her hair. “This is unreal. All of a sudden, you want me to get married.”

“Don’t you?”

“Yes!”

“Good.” Lucinda rose, walked to her desk, and called her assistant. “Emilio? Is Dana Barnett here yet? Send her in, would you?”

“Dana Barnett,” Blair said. “Isn’t she—”

“A reporter for the Washington Chronicle. Yes,” Lucinda replied as Emilio held the door open for a woman of average height and build in wrinkled tan chinos, a white T-shirt, and a shapeless black V-neck sweater. She wore mud-encrusted combat boots and needed a haircut.

Her collar-length chestnut hair was shaggy and her deep brown eyes shadowed with fatigue. Despite her casual attire, she moved briskly and swept the room with sharp eyes that appeared to take in everything with one glance.

“Ms. Barnett,” Lucinda said. “Thank you so much for coming.”

Dana’s eyebrows lifted almost imperceptibly. “You’re welcome,” she said in a resonant alto. “I just got off a plane, so forgive my informal attire.” She nodded in Blair and Cam’s direction. “Good morning, Ms. Powell. Deputy Director Roberts.”

“Good to meet you,” Blair said. She and Cam stood, and Blair held out her hand. “Where are you in from?”

“The Middle East,” Dana said somewhat evasively. She glanced at Lucinda. “I didn’t get much of a briefing, just that you wanted to see me.”

“I told the people at the paper I’d fill you in,” Lucinda said. She gestured to the seating area. “You must be tired.”

“No, actually, I spent the last six hours sleeping on the floor in the hold of a military transport plane. I’d rather stand, if you don’t mind.”

Blair thought what Dana Barnett hadn’t said was that she’d rather be anywhere else but there. She could almost feel her bristling. From what she knew of Dana’s reputation, she was a hard-hitting investigative reporter who covered controversial topics in every corner of the globe. She didn’t doubt that Dana’s assignment in the Middle East had to do with terrorism.

“Since you’ve been out of the country,” Lucinda said smoothly, apparently oblivious to the edge in Dana Barnett’s manner, “you may not have heard that Ms. Powell and the deputy director are getting married next week.”

“Congratulations,” Dana said, her eyes wary.

“As you can imagine,” Lucinda said, “there is a great deal of media interest in the entire event. To facilitate information flow and spare Ms. Powell and the deputy director undue attention, we’ve decided to allow one reporter total access to the first daughter for the duration of the event. Exclusive coverage commencing with the preplanning stages.”

Dana slid her hands into the pockets of her chinos and glanced from Lucinda to Blair. “I can recommend several excellent lifestyle reporters who would—”

“That won’t be necessary. You’ve got the job.” Lucinda smiled.

“Luce,” Blair said, “can we talk for a minute, please?” The last thing Blair wanted was a reporter in her face twenty-four hours a day. It was bad enough to have twice a day press conferences.

“I think it’s an excellent idea,” Cam said.

Blair stared at her. “What?”

“It will limit your exposure if the members of the press realize that you’re not available to make impromptu comments, and it will allow us to determine when and how you’re interviewed.” She nodded. “It’s a good idea.”

“It’s a lousy idea,” Blair retorted.

Dana Barnett folded her arms, an amused expression on her face.

“I realize you’ve just come off an arduous assignment, Dana,” Lucinda said. “We’ll arrange transportation for you to Manhattan tomorrow. You can start then.”

The smile on Dana’s face disappeared. “I’m afraid I really can’t—”

“I haven’t agreed—” Blair interrupted.

Lucinda glanced at her watch. “And I’m late for a meeting with the budget committee. Thank you all so much for coming.” She reached across her desk, grabbed a stack of folders, and walked out.

Blair and Dana stared after her.

“Son of a bitch!” Dana and Blair exclaimed simultaneously.

Cam, wisely, said nothing.

Chapter Four

Dana took a deep breath and smiled ruefully at the first daughter. She’d seen her in photographs and on television before, of course, but she’d never met her in person. Dressed casually, with her hair loose and her temper showing, Blair Powell was even more beautiful than her media image projected. Dana had always admired her for her subtle disdain for political games and her tendency to be outspoken regardless of the party line. And the fact that she had become more candid about her sexual orientation in the last year had earned Dana’s respect. As a reporter, Dana had a healthy regard for the power of the press to make or break careers as well as sway public opinion. It was refreshing to meet someone so close to the seats of power who didn’t seem to care, although handling her press relations must be a nightmare for the White House.

“Nothing personal, Ms. Powell,” Dana said, “but I’m not the right reporter for this assignment.”

“Nothing personal, Ms. Barnett,” Blair said, “but this assignment doesn’t work for me either.”

Dana laughed, then caught the steely expression on Deputy Director Roberts’s face. Dana wasn’t naïve, and even if she hadn’t just come back from the Middle East, she would have had a very good idea of just how precarious the state of national security was at the moment. Anyone who paid attention to the political scene, and Dana did, knew that Blair Powell had dropped from sight immediately after 9/11 and the White House had been very vague as to why. Now she was emerging in the midst of controversy. So much for maintaining a low profile, which Dana was willing to bet the White House and the deputy director would have preferred. She didn’t envy Roberts’s position in all of this, and she definitely didn’t want to piss her off.

“I agree with your take on controlling the press by setting up exclusive coverage, Deputy Director,” Dana said. “It’s a good idea. My only point is—”

“I think you’ve made your position clear,” Cam said flatly. “You apparently find contributing to Ms. Powell’s security beneath you.”

Dana flushed. She knew, as did every other reporter in the United States—in the world, most likely—that Cameron Roberts had nearly died from a sniper’s bullet intended for the first daughter. Roberts might have taken the bullet because she was protecting her lover, but no one doubted she would have done it for anyone under her protection. She was a genuine hero, and one who hadn’t capitalized on her notoriety in any way. For just a second, Dana felt petty in her desire not to be cast as a celebrity reporter, and the discomfort stoked her temper. “There are half a dozen reporters the Chronicle could assign who would fit in better than me and who have more experience with this kind of thing. I’m a field reporter, for Christ’s sake.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Blair interjected, “because it’s not happening.” She looped her left arm through Cam’s and held her right hand out to Dana. “Like I said, nothing personal. It was nice meeting you.”

“Same here,” Dana said.

When the first daughter and the deputy director started out of the office, Dana hurried after them. It would have been nice to think the matter closed, but she knew things were never that simple where politics were concerned.

“You were kind of hard on her, weren’t you?” Blair asked lightly as she and Cam left the West Wing.

“She’s cocky,” Cam said.

“And?”

“And nothing.” Cam pulled her cell phone off her belt and punched in Paula Stark’s number on speed dial. “We’re coming out, Chief.” She glanced at Blair. “Ready to go home?”

“More than ready.” Blair slowed in the lobby just inside the entrance to the West Wing and pulled Cam around to face her. “You don’t usually give up so easily.”

Cam grinned. “Who said I was giving up?”

Blair rolled her eyes. “That’s exactly what I was afraid of.” She looked around to make sure no one was listening, but everyone seemed to be rushing to get to their destination and paid them no mind. Nevertheless, she lowered her voice out of habit. “I’m not having a stranger follow me around, recording my every thought and feeling, during one of the most important times of my life. God, Cam, I don’t even do that for a routine public appearance.”

Cam settled her hands on Blair’s shoulders. “Nothing is routine anymore, baby.”

“This is ours,” Blair said vehemently. She pressed her hand to Cam’s chest. “Ours. I’m not letting anyone take it away from us, not even Lucinda and my father.”

“No one will. I promise.” Cam kissed her softly while a uniformed Marine guard standing nearby stared straight ahead, seemingly oblivious to them. “But the press are going to be all over us, and that makes Stark’s job ten times more difficult. Lucinda is right on this one, Blair. It’s the best way to control the flow of information and keep some distance between you and the reporters.”

“No,” Blair said. “As far as I’m concerned, the matter is closed.”

Cam said nothing, but her eyes took on the shuttered appearance they always did when she was holding in her temper.

“And don’t think about pulling rank on me, either,” Blair snapped, the effort it took to keep her voice down making her tremble.