by Radclyffe
“I didn’t think you were afraid of rumors, Commander,” Blair said tauntingly.
“It’s not the rumors I’m afraid of,” Cam said dryly, “it’s your father.”
The agents threading themselves through the crowd ten feet behind looked at each other curiously, wondering what had prompted the laughter from Blair Powell.
———
“I think we can manage it,” Cam said as she leaned back in her chair. She was comfortably relaxed after a slow, quiet dinner in a small restaurant off Fourth Street in the West Village. They were sitting at a table for two in front of a large open wood burning fireplace. Blair had initially requested a table in the wide front window, but Cam had politely declined, requesting seating where Blair wasn’t quite so exposed. She sipped her espresso while Blair finished her cognac.
Blair laughed softly. For once, it didn’t bother her that she had to clear her plans with her security detail. Even she had to admit that Cam wasn’t being unreasonable.
“I’m glad you agree,” Blair said. She sipped the heavy brandy and studied her dinner companion. For two hours they had talked of art, which cities they enjoyed most in Europe, and the comparative value of various martial art forms. What they had not discussed was politics, the stalker situation, or their personal lives. It could easily have passed for a first date, filled with the anticipation and excitement of learning to know someone new. She tried not to allow reality to dispel the myth. She felt like someone she barely recognized. She finally realized what was missing was the burning anger, her constant companion. That in and of itself was frightening. If she allowed herself to get used to this feeling, the emptiness and disappointment of her real life would be devastating. She was acutely aware of Cameron’s gaze upon her. Cameron had a way of looking at you that made you feel like there was no one else in the room. Her glance was as palpable as a touch, and Blair imagined that her skin tingled as Cameron studied her. She struggled to keep her tone normal.
“I spoke with Diane this afternoon. She can’t wait to go.”
“I’ll see to the arrangements first thing in the morning,” Cam assured her.
“She told me she saw you today,” Blair added nonchalantly. That was far from the way she had felt when Diane casually remarked that she had had lunch with Cameron.
“Yes. We had a bit of business to do.”
“I’m sure,” Blair said sarcastically. She knew very well the kind of business Diane had in mind. She knew exactly the kind of woman Diane found attractive, and over the years they had often found themselves in competition for the same woman. When they were younger it had all been in fun, and no hard feelings whatever happened. This time, it felt like anything but fun. She was angry at herself for allowing her irritation to show. She kept her eyes fixed on the dark swirling liquid, afraid of what Cameron might see in her face.
Cam had a pretty good idea what Diane had insinuated about their lunch. The charming art dealer had certainly made it quite obvious what her interests were. Cameron was not offended by the blatant attempt at seduction, but she did not want Blair, for reasons she could not clearly define, to think she was so easily seduced.
“Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.”
“I can’t believe you just said that!” Blair laughed, coaxed out of her anger by the ridiculousness of the image.
Cam laughed with her, thinking how luminescent Blair’s features were when she relaxed. “Neither can I,” she replied. “But in this case, it’s apt.”
“I promise not to tell her,” Blair continued smiling.
Cam inclined her head gratefully, “Thank you.”
As they stepped out onto the street, Blair forgot for a moment that there were three Secret Service agents dogging their every step. It was one of those rare January nights when the stars could actually be seen over New York City. The meal had been wonderful, and the company better. She stopped in mid-step. Taking a chance, she asked, “I don’t suppose I could interest you in a trip to the bar?”
Cameron took a deep breath of the brisk chill air. She knew very well what Blair was asking her. She refused to acknowledge her own wishes. “I can’t accompany you. But if you want to go out, I will see that the team stays out of your way.”
“You didn’t mind having dinner with me,” Blair pointed out, still not moving, not caring that they were creating a minor obstacle to other passers-by.
“That was business,” Cam responded.
“Was it?” Blair stated.
Cam knew very well she was stretching the definition of business. They could have discussed the upcoming ski trip in the morning. She had allowed the excuse of the trip to give her reason to have dinner with Blair. She was on dangerous ground, and she knew it. She could not let things progress further. She certainly could not go to a gay bar with Blair as anything resembling her date. And she definitely had no desire to go cruising with Blair. Watching Blair pick up strangers for sex was not something she enjoyed.
“I can’t. I’m sorry. Do you want me to notify the unit that you’ll be staying out?”
“No thanks,” Blair said bitingly. “When I go out, I don’t want their company.”
Cam supposed she deserved that. “Then may I walk you home?”
“Yes,” Blair said with a sigh. “But for God sake, tell them to stay off our heels. I’m perfectly safe with you.”
Cam nodded, whispering instructions into her microphone. She knew very well Blair could have been difficult about this. She was grateful that she would not have to worry about Blair’s whereabouts, at least for the rest of evening. And on another level, she had to admit she would not have to worry about who Blair was spending her evening with.
Chapter Twelve
Five days later they were boarding a private jet for their flight to Colorado. They would be staying at a small, rustic resort not usually known as a tourist center. It was likely to be less crowded, and an easier setting in which to protect Blair. It was a fairly isolated location, with few of the amenities so popular in Colorado ski resorts. There would be no nightly entertainment acts, or any other similar diversions. What there would be was hours of good skiing on challenging trails. Blair was apparently an accomplished skier, and enjoyed skiing the semi-wooded less manicured downhill trails. For her it might be a vacation, but for Cam and her agents, it would be anything but.
Cam settled into her seat and was just opening the Washington Chronicle when someone eased in beside her.
“This seat looks vacant,” the familiar voice announced.
Cam turned toward Diane Bleeker. “These are not reserved seats.”
Diane smiled. “Then I take it you don’t mind?”
“Not at all,” Cam responded, folding her paper. “Whatever news there might be, it can wait until later.”
Diane reached between them for her seat belt, brushing her hand along the length of Cam’s thigh. There was a subtle tensing under her fingertips, but to her credit Cameron Roberts did not pull away. At least she wasn’t going to pretend they weren’t both adults. Diane could accept rejection, but she hated to have her advances ignored. “Do you ski, Commander?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Our Blair is quite the expert, did you know?”
“It doesn’t surprise me,” Cam commented. “She is very talented.”
Diane studied her, searching for hidden meaning. As usual, she could read nothing in Cam’s expression. She couldn’t remember ever having met someone quite so inscrutable. And yet the agent was anything but cold. She radiated energy, and seemed to do everything with an intense focus. In fact, she was seething with promise. The promise of passion, and intensity, that Diane very much wanted to experience. It was more than just physical appeal, even though Cameron was enormously attractive with her lean, tautly muscled body. She had daunting self-confidence as well. Is there nothing that can shake her composure?
Diane leaned against Cam’s shoulder as she tightened her seatbelt. “Yes, Blair is a woman of many hidden skills.
And then again, she doesn’t bother to hide some of her interests. I’m sure you’ve noticed.”
Cam had no intention of discussing Blair Powell with Diane Bleeker or anyone else. “And how is the gallery?” Cam asked.
“Ah, I see. Blair is off-limits. Actually, that’s perfectly all right with me. I’m much more interested in you.”
Cam laughed at the woman’s persistence. It was hard to be annoyed with someone who was so blatant about their intentions. In another place, in another time, she would not have resisted. It was a combination of the past, and her strange detached present, which prevented her from responding. Any kind of intimate involvement was beyond her capability.
“I’m afraid I’m going to disappoint you,” Cam warned.
“Oh, I very seriously doubt that.”
“I’m flattered-,” Cam began.
Diane laughed. “Oh please, Commander. You needn’t explain to me the many reasons why you think you are unavailable. I am quite patient, and I enjoy waiting. Otherwise, where is the pleasure when you win?”
Cam shook her head, smiling at the sophisticated, supremely confident woman beside her. “Then I shall say no more.”
Diane wrapped for long, elegant fingers around Cam’s wrist, squeezing gently before slowly withdrawing. “Good. It would be to no avail.”
They both settled back in their seats for takeoff. In the aisle seat one row behind them, Blair studied the two women. She was completely familiar with Diane’s tactics. She had known her since they were girls, and had witnessed her many conquests. This was the first time it mattered to her whether Diane succeeded. The image of Diane’s hand on Cameron’s arm provoked a response she was finding hard to ignore. She hated the thought of Diane touching Cam, but even harder to accept was the possibility of Cameron returning the caresses. Instinctively, she knew that Cameron Roberts would not make love to a woman casually. What she couldn’t know was how much that fact controlled Cameron’s life.
———
The group was greeted at the door to the lodge by a tall, attractive woman in her mid-forties. Even in winter she showed signs of a lingering tan, and her lithe trim figure spoke of her vigorous lifestyle. She greeted them warmly and ushered them into a rustic room scattered with sofas and comfortable chairs in front of a large stone fire place. Overhead lights were hidden in the exposed wooden beams of the ceiling, bathing the room in a muted soft glow.
“I’m Helen Craig,” she said, extending her hand to Cameron as Cam stepped over the threshold. “Just leave your gear here until we have the room situation straightened out. Then I’ll have someone bring your bags up.”
She looked from Cameron to Blair Powell, who was standing just to Cameron’s right. Of course Helen recognized her, and knew that this was Blair’s entourage. Without a trace of shyness, Helen offered her hand.
“I’m delighted to have you here, Ms. Powell. We have eighteen inches of packed snow with a three inch fresh fall from last night. The trails are perfect.”
Blair grinned, pleased at Helen’s lack of pretension and the genuine warmth in her greeting. “Just the news I wanted to hear. I can’t wait to get out there.”
Helen nodded. “First light at 5:30 tomorrow. After you’re settled, and have some dinner, I’ll show you the trail maps. You can plan your runs for the morning.”
“I was hoping to get in a run or two this afternoon,” Blair stated.
“It’ll be dark in an hour and a half. If you hurry, you could ski one of the shorter trails.”
Blair reached for her gear bag. “Just give me someplace to change.”
Helen noticed the sudden tension in the group of individuals standing around Blair, but it seemed to her that this was Blair Powell’s party, and if she wanted to ski, she should certainly be able to ski.
“Right this way.”
As Blair followed Helen across the room and disappeared down a hallway, Cameron turned to the others.
“All right everybody. Mac—you take care of the room arrangements. Make sure we have someone on either side of Egret’s room, and across the hall. Preferably everyone on one floor. Stark, Taylor-you get suited up and find out which trail she’s going to run. Make sure you take an emergency kit with you. I’m going to change so I can ski with her.” For a moment, she had forgotten completely about Diane Bleeker. As usual, Blair’s lack of regard for the realities of providing her protection had placed them in a difficult situation. They had no time to adequately survey the area, and they had no sense of who might be out on the trails with her. Cam was startled to feel the touch on her arm.
“I should think you would be used to her by now, Commander,” Diane said softly. “As long as I’ve known her, she has refused to accept that she cannot behave like the rest of the world. She has always wanted to be simply ordinary.”
Cameron nodded, remembering her own childhood and what it had been like growing up among her fathers diplomatic friends and her mothers world famous artists circle. She had watched the children walking to school from the windows of the limousine that took her almost everywhere. She had longed to be one of the anonymous crowd, knowing all the time that it was impossible. She knew the sadness of being different, and the loneliness of being separate, no matter how hard her parents tried to create the appearance of an ordinary life.
Diane watched the emotions flickering quickly through Cams dark eyes, astounded at the depth of the other woman’s compassion and understanding. Her own response was more than a little frightening. She had long since abandoned the desire for anything beyond a casual physical relationship with the women in her life. This one was different. There was something almost hypnotic in Cam’s reserve, something tantalizing in her secrecy. She made you want to know her, without consciously inviting you near. Diane thought if she had any sense at all, she would be trying to put distance between them, instead of hurrying after the elusive commander and her errant lifelong friend.
“God, that was great!” Blair exclaimed, stomping the snow from her boots and shedding her ski parka. She made her way to the small bar tucked into one corner of the huge lobby. “I’d love a glass of red wine,” she said to the bartender. She turned to Diane and Cameron. “What about you two?”
“Martini for me,” Diane said.
“Just coffee,” Cameron responded.
“That’s a fabulous trail, don’t you think?” Blair enthused, tossing her head back and shaking her hair free. Her eyes were glowing, her cheeks faintly flushed from the cold air.
“It was everything it was advertised to be,” Cam responded. She had been skiing since she was three, and it had taken every bit of her skill to keep up with Blair. The younger woman was not only expert, she was fearless. Even in the waning light of late afternoon, she had blasted down the unfamiliar trail with abandon. Diane, also a very accomplished skier, had followed several hundred yards behind them, skiing efficiently but more cautiously. Cameron had posted agents at the head and foot of the trail, in constant communication with her via radio, but she was the only one actually in near physical contact with Blair. Despite the low-risk factor of this secluded resort, she did not want Blair very far from her sight. She hadn’t skied quite so aggressively in ten years. She knew her muscles would be sore in the morning. Nevertheless, the sight of Blair’s pleasure made it worth it. She was absolutely radiant, and Cam had a glimpse of what she might be like were the circumstances different. There was a joy and lightness about her that Cam had not seen before. Blair was more than beautiful; she was breathtaking.
Cam looked away, gently placing her coffee cup on the bar top. “I think I’m ready for a shower.” She turned slightly, murmuring into her lapel microphone. Almost instantly, a stocky red-haired man appeared in the doorway. Satisfied that her replacement was nearby, she quietly walked away.
Diane watched her leave, wondering if she had any idea how revealing the expression in her dark eyes could be. Diane had watched Cam watching Blair, and the pleasure in Cams gaze was painfully evident. As qu
ickly as it appeared, it was gone. Diane wondered what force of will it took to control her feelings so completely. She wondered too why it was necessary.
Chapter Thirteen
Shortly after 5 a.m. the next morning, Blair pushed open the swinging doors to the kitchen and followed the scent of coffee. She found Helen seated at the large scarred wooden table, sipping the steaming brew and working on a crossword puzzle. Helen smiled a greeting and gestured toward the coffeepot.
“Thanks,” Blair grunted, reaching for a cup. Moving slowly, she sat beside Helen at the table.
Helen glanced at her, then asked, “Where are your friends?”
Blair grimaced, blowing across the top of the liquid to cool it. “I’m sure there’s someone right outside the back door, and another one in the dining room.”
“Doesn’t seem like much fun,” Helen remarked.
Blair appraised her cautiously. She saw no hint of anything other than open frankness in her face. She allowed herself a brief smile. “Well, I could lie and say I’m used to it. In fact, I am used to it, but I’ve never learned to ignore it. It bothers me.”
“I can imagine. On the other hand, I guess it is impossible to let you run around by yourself.”
Blair laughed. “Apparently so.”
Helen leaned back, scrutinizing the striking young woman across from her. This was not the sophisticated, perfectly turned out image she was used to seeing on the television and in magazine articles. This woman was naturally beautiful, with no makeup, untamed hair, faded jeans and a baggy sweatshirt that did little to hide the suggestive swell of her breasts. Helen would never have recognized her as the President’s daughter. But she would not have overlooked her allure either.
“May I ask how you came to stay here?” Helen asked.
“Friends of mine, Sarah Hughes Whitley and Anne Perry, have stayed here.”
Helen raised an eyebrow slightly, remembering the attractive couple from earlier in the season. “Two of my most favorite guests,” she responded.
