by Radclyffe
Blair met her gaze evenly, and was pleased to see that the other woman did not avert her eyes. “I’m very fond of them.”
“As am I,” Helen responded. “You needn’t be concerned about my discretion, Ms. Powell. My only interest is in providing my guests with good skiing and privacy. My only hope is that you have seven days of excellent running. I couldn’t care less about your personal life.”
Blair laughed. “Well, you may be the only person in the United States for whom that’s true.”
Helen laughed with her. “I think you may be right.”
———
An hour later, Cam walked into the lounge and helped herself to a cup of coffee from the large urn which stood always ready on the side board. She turned, sipping gratefully at the hot liquid, and met the eyes of Helen Craig. Helen stood regarding her silently, a slight smile on her face. Cam nodded and settled into one of the large leather chairs before the fireplace. After a moment, Helen joined her with her own coffee.
“She’s already out on the slopes,” Helen commented.
“Yes, I know.”
“I suppose you do,” Helen said softly. “It must be very difficult for her.”
Cam had been doing her job too many years to fall into the trap of casual conversation with a stranger. Especially a conversation about someone as high-profile as the President’s daughter. However, there was something so genuine about the woman beside her, she felt strangely at ease. “I imagine it is.”
Helen might not have any experience with the interpersonal relationships between a woman like Blair and those who guarded her, but she had plenty of experience with the attractions of one woman for another. She had had the opportunity to observe the reserved Secret Service Agent and the First Daughter together the previous night at dinner, and later as they moved about each other in an uneasy truce in the lounge. Blair Powell had scarcely taken her eyes off the tall lanky security chief, and it seemed that Blair’s best friend Diane was captivated as well. The object of their attention, however, had revealed little, unless you were watching her. And Helen had been watching her closely. When the others were engaged in conversation the dark-haired woman with the smoky grey eyes watched the President’s daughter with a penetrating intensity that should have left marks on her skin. Helen had seen that look before, in the eyes of women who thought they knew their own hearts, and their own minds. In the eyes of women who refused to acknowledge the truth of their own feelings.
“It must be lonely for her. She could probably use of friend,” Helen remarked quietly.
Cam sighed, and gently replaced her cup on the coffee table. She walked toward the fireplace, watching the bark glow red and crumble from the logs as they burned brightly to their own destruction. “She has friends. What she needs is to be free. That’s something no one can give her.”
“There are more ways than one to be free.”
When Cam looked back, knowing she had no answers, she found she was alone.
———
“You really shouldn’t let Stark play pinochle. She’s god awful, and a danger to herself. If she had been my partner, I would have murdered her,” Blair commented as she joined Cam on the wide front deck of the ski lodge. The night was frigid, the air so crisp it tingled against her skin. The sky was impossibly black, with stars so bright, and so numerous, it felt as if she were standing on the edge of heaven. Their breath left small clouds of white crystals in the air around them. Despite the temperature, she was not cold. She had been waiting all evening for an opportunity to be alone with her security chief. Now that the time had come, her pulse raised and her belly stirred with an excitement she tried to ignore.
“Card playing is a necessity for a Secret Service Agent,” Cam responded seriously, although the corners of her mouth turned up in a rare smile.
“Yes, I’m sure.” Blair stepped closer until her body brushed the shoulder of the woman beside her. She was surprised when Cameron did not move away. “Then again, I’m sure that Secret Service agents need to be talented in many things.”
Cam turned to face her, her eyes serious. “Ms. Powell, I know how difficult all of this is for you...”
“I don’t think you do,” Blair said, resting her gloved hand against Cam’s shoulder. “It’s damned inconvenient finding a way to get one’s security chief into bed without creating a national scandal.”
“Perhaps there’s a message there.”
“There may be, but I have no interest in it. All I’m interested in is you.”
Cam stepped back just enough to break their contact. Blair Powell was easily the most attractive woman she ever known. If that weren’t enough, Blair was touchingly vulnerable in her unguarded moments. Cam wished there were some way to ease the younger woman’s pain. But she could not allow her sympathy to interfere with her effectiveness. She reminded herself that the beautiful seductress before her was not truly interested in her, but rather wanted to use her as the tool to break the chains of her invisible prison. Cameron knew this, and because she did, she ignored the hammering of her heart and the rush of blood into her loins.
“I’m afraid you have mistaken my attentions. Your physical well-being is my only concern. I am not interested in anything other than that.”
Blair felt the words rip through her. Although her tone had been light and teasing, she had been serious about her offer to Cam. She had not approached a woman with true desire in more years then she could count. It hurt, this rebuke. Her pain angered her, and as she turned and walked rapidly toward the door, she called caustically, “Don’t mistake lust for affection, Commander. My interest in you, as I believe you once said, is strictly biological.”
Cameron watched her go, struggling with her own disappointment. Of course she knew that she was only a potential conquest, but that did not lessen the pain of Blair’s words.
———
A knock on her door brought Cam from deep sleep into adrenalized arousal in an instant. She grabbed her gun from the night table as her feet touched the floor. The bedside clock read 4:44 a.m. Cam looked through the peep hole and cursed silently to herself when she saw the figure on the other side. She opened the door an inch and whispered, “What is it, Stark?”
Paula Stark stared white faced at her boss. She swallowed once audibly, and licked her suddenly dry lips nervously. “I need to talk you, Commander.”
“Can’t it wait?”
“No ma’am, it can’t.”
Cam opened the door to admit her young subordinate, replacing her gun in its holster on her table. She switched on the bedside lamp and motioned Stark to a chair at the small desk in front of the windows. She sat down across from Stark and looked at her inquiringly. For a moment, she thought that Stark might cry.
“I need to be transferred,” Stark stated flatly.
“Is there some reason you felt you needed to wake me in the middle of the night to tell me this?” Cameron asked sharply. She had a bad feeling she knew where this conversation was going.
“I needed to tell you now. I need to leave in the morning.”
Cam sighed and leaned back from the table. She ran both hands briskly over face, then peered intently at the pale young woman across from her. “Do you want to tell me what this is all about?”
“I—I don’t feel I can continue to carry out my assignment.”
“That’s not what you told me two weeks ago,” Cam stated.
Paula Stark raised her eyes to Cam’s for the first time. Her shoulders stiffened slightly as she stated, “I hadn’t slept with her then.”
Something hard settled deep in the pit of Cam’s stomach. She clenched her jaw to stifle the curse that leapt to her lips. She stood abruptly and paced to the other side of the room, turning so quickly in the small space that Stark flinched.
“Are you out of your mind?” Cam seethed, her fury barely contained. She knew instinctively she was handling this poorly, but her immediate reaction was one of deep-seated anger, and uncomfortably, something
that felt a great deal like jealousy.
“I didn’t know it was going to happen. It was—I don’t know—it just, she—” Stark raised her hands in a helpless gesture. “She asked me, and I just couldn’t say ‘no’.”
“Jesus Christ,” Cameron muttered. Was there no end to the chaos that woman could create? Now she had to deal with the potential ruin of a very capable young woman’s career. “How do you feel about her now?”
Stark looked at her in surprise. It was as if she had never considered the question before. “I don’t know.”
“Are you in love with her?” Cam asked quietly. For some reason, the words were hard to get out.
“I don’t think so,” Stark said, clearly embarrassed. “It was—physical.”
“Yes, I’m sure it was,” Cameron said under her breath. She refused to think about the two of them together, but it was difficult keeping the image of Blair making love with this woman from her mind. She shook her head, forcing herself to deal with the real issues at hand. “I wish that there was some way I could overlook this, but I can’t. Even if you have no personal feelings for her, I can’t trust you to be objective. I can’t trust you not to allow your relationship with her to cloud your judgment. It could be dangerous for her—and it could be dangerous for you.”
Stark looked down at her folded hands resting on the tabletop, her expression one of abject misery. “I know. I’ve thought of nothing else for the last three hours. Ever since I left her room, I’ve been agonizing over what to do.”
“Why did you tell me?”
Stark looked at her in surprise. “Because if you found out, it would ruin my credibility forever. I made a mistake, but I am not irresponsible.”
Cameron looked at her with growing respect. Stark did not drop her gaze as Cameron studied her unwaveringly. “Can you swear to me that there is no romantic attachment between you and Ms. Powell?”
“Yes ma’am, I swear.”
“You may continue with your post, Agent Stark. If I find that your judgment or performance is compromised in any way, I will transfer you immediately without regard for its impact on your career.”
Stark stood, nearly at attention. “Yes ma’am, I understand ma’am. Thank you so much.”
Cameron nodded, suddenly weary. As the door closed behind the young agent, Cameron stretched out on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Eventually she closed her eyes, and tried to ignore the image of Blair Powell naked, her legs entwined with the shadowy figure of Paula Stark.
Chapter Fourteen
“May I join you?”
“If you wish.”
Blair did not miss the stiffness in Cameron’s voice, nor the cold smoldering anger in her eyes. “I take it you know I had company last night.”
“I am aware of it.”
For some reason, Blair took no satisfaction in making it clear to her aloof security chief that Cameron was not irreplaceable, especially in her bed. In fact, she had been plagued by an unfamiliar uneasiness throughout a restless night. For the first time in her memory, she felt regret. Regret that the woman beside her meant nothing to her. Regret that the entire time she had made love to Paula Stark, she had wished for another’s body beneath her lips, beneath her fingers. Regret that even as the young woman lay spent and vulnerable in her arms, she felt nothing for her. Regret that the woman she had taken to her bed had been cheated by that very fact.
Cam gritted her teeth, trying desperately to control her temper. She wasn’t certain whom she was most angry with—Paula Stark for her lack of judgment, or Blair Powell—for her total lack of discretion in choosing her bed partners. Looking at the woman across from her, Cameron had to struggle not to imagine the soft sensuous lips stroking her own. She had felt the power of Blair’s embrace, and she was finding it difficult to banish it from her memory.
Blair pushed back her chair and stood, her breakfast untouched before her. She stared down at Cam with something close to remorse in her eyes. Nevertheless, her voice was bitter. “If it makes any difference to your sense of ethics, it wasn’t exactly her idea. And I’m done with her now. It won’t happen again.”
Without waiting for an answer, the President’s daughter turned away abruptly. She didn’t so much as glance in Paula Stark’s direction.
Cameron sat for a moment, watching Blair cross the dining room in angry strides. She struggled for composure, knowing that her anger would only cloud her judgment and make it more difficult for her to do her job. Two of her agents moved quietly from the room to follow Blair at a discrete distance. Cameron was confident that they would be ready should the President’s daughter decide to leave the lodge.
———
Half an hour later, Cameron gathered her gear and stepped out into a glorious Colorado morning. The air was crisp, the sun a blazing white light that forced her to immediately pull on her ski goggles. She knew from communications that Blair was on the upper slopes, preparing to spend the morning on a long and challenging downhill trail. By the time Cameron reached the peak, Blair was pushing off for her second run down the mountainside. Cameron stepped into her traces, and started after her, staying just slightly behind Blair to give her plenty of room to maneuver over the slope. Cameron was content to follow, keeping her eyes on the woman ahead of her. She felt only a momentary flicker of surprise when a dark form hurdled from a stand of trees 20 feet away and headed directly for Blair Powell.
Fear was not an emotion that Cameron allowed herself. It merely slowed the reflexes, and clouded judgment. In the second it took her to reach for her gun, she saw Blair go down as the figure careened into her. For a brief instant Cameron was struck with a sense of deja vu that nearly made her dizzy. Her stomach clenched as panic threatened to engulf her. As quickly as the image of Janet falling, a blossom of red on her chest, glided into Cameron’s mind like a familiar slide on a well-viewed screen, Cameron forced it away. The assailant had fallen from the force of his impact with Blair, and was struggling to rise in the snow.
Cam skidded to a stop at Blair’s side, shedding her skis before she had even stopped moving. She threw herself over Blair’s prone body, her gun trained on the figure not far away. With her other hand, she pulled her radio from her belt, screaming hoarsely, “Red alert, red alert!”
Even as she curled herself protectively around Blair’s still form, four agents emerged from the trees on either side, guns drawn, shouting for the assailant to get down. Within seconds, they surrounded him. As soon as Cameron was certain that the immediate danger to Blair had passed, she switched radio frequencies to that of the communications center at the lodge, and requested urgent transport and a medivac unit to meet them on the slopes. She eased herself off Blair’s body, holstering her gun and pulling off her gloves.
Blair lay on her back, eyes closed. Cameron quickly ascertained that her pulse with strong and steady, but she appeared to be unconscious. With hands that trembled only slightly, Cameron opened Blair’s parka and slipped her hand inside, searching for evidence of a wound. It was entirely possible that the assailant had slipped a knife or ice pick into Blair’s body during the collision. One part of her mind worked efficiently, by the book, while another part warred with the terror rising within.
Jesus, don’t let her be hurt
Cameron slipped her hand under Blair’s sweater, finding no evidence of blood. She slid her fingers over the tight abdomen and tried to check Blair’s back without turning her.
“What are you doing,” Blair whispered, her blue eyes unfocused.
Cameron look down, relief clearly evident in her face. “Just lie still. Everything is all right. You’re safe.”
“I’ve been wanting you to do this, but this wasn’t exactly the place I had mind,” Blair commented weakly, a smile flickering uncertainly across her face. She started to push herself up, and winced as a barrage of cannon fire began in the back of her head. She fell back limply. “What the hell happened?”
Cameron zipped up Blair’s jacket and started to remove
her own. She could see Blair was beginning to shiver. “I don’t know yet,” she said grimly. “How do you feel?” She spread her jacket over Blair’s body.
Blair gingerly moved each arm and leg. Her vision was clearing, and other than a phenomenal headache, she seemed to be fine. “I’m all right.”
“We’ll have you off the ground in just a minute,” Cameron said gently. She lifted her radio, and barked into it, “Where the hell is medivac?” Static was all she heard for a moment, and then Mac’s voice.
“The helicopter was delayed because of cloud cover,” he said. “We have an ambulance on its way and there should be snowmobiles on site in approximately two minutes.”
Cameron didn’t like it. It was sloppy work. They should have been informed that the helicopters were unavailable. Nevertheless, at the moment there was nothing she could do. “I copy that.”
Blair reached for Cameron’s arm, gripping her with surprising strength. “I don’t want to go to a hospital. The media will be all over this. My father is in Southeast Asia, and there’s no need for him to be disturbed.”
Cameron had no intention of arguing with Blair. Even now, her team was taking the suspect downhill to the lodge. She would question him herself as soon as Blair was taken care of. She had to approach this as if it were an attempt on Blair’s life. Because that was all she could assume it was. The time for respecting Blair’s wishes was past. This was not something she could compromise about.
Blair watched Cameron’s jaw tighten, and she knew there was no room for negotiation. “At least let me call him and tell him I’m all right, before this is all over the news.”
Cameron nodded. “Of course.”
———
Six hours later, Cameron nodded to the agent seated outside Blair Powell’s hospital room and gently pushed the door open. She stood for a moment, trying to ascertain in the dim light if Blair were awake.
“Come in.”
Cameron approached the bed, and stood looking down at Blair’s pale face. “Did I wake you?”
