by Radclyffe
"If you keep me cooped up in this place for very long, I won't be responsible for my actions."
Cam recognized the concession in her voice. She laughed softly. "I promise to make this as short and painless as possible. I'm sure you can be trusted, no matter how long it takes."
Don't be so sure, Blair thought to herself. If I have to be this close to you 24 hours a day, I'm not sure I can trust myself.
chapter eleven
Blair winced as Paula Stark led yet another 10 in a suit where the aces hadn't yet been played. If she had to watch her "partner" make one more stupid play, she might have to take Mac's gun and shoot her. She had not left the apartment in three days. They had just finished a dinner of Chinese takeout, and Cameron had left Blair with Stark, Mac, and Taylor while she went to Blair's apartment building for a briefing with the other agents. Blair was keenly aware of her absence. The air seemed electric when Cam was around. She looked toward the door with relief when she heard the knock.
"How is your pinochle, Agent Roberts?" she asked as Cameron crossed the room to join them.
Cam raised an inquiring eyebrow. "Are you playing for money?"
Blair laughed. "If we were I'm afraid I'd be in big trouble."
"In that case, I'll play. Partners?"
Paula Stark pushed back from the table. "Please, take my place. I never was any good at cards, and I'm due back at the command center now any ways."
Cam sat down across from Blair. They played as if they had been playing together for years. Each time Cam bid, she had a sense that Blair knew exactly what she intended. It was both unsettling, and exhilarating. Before long, Mac and Taylor were complaining that the two women had some kind of secret signal going. The score became so uneven that eventually they called it quits.
"You are a great partner, Commander," Blair said softly. "I might have known. I'm sure you are equally good at everything."
Her tone was intimate, and the suggestiveness did not escape Mac's notice. His boss seemed unaffected as she stood and stretched. She had shed her jacket, and the straps of her shoulder holster stretched her shirt tight over her torso. Mac didn't miss the way Blair's eyes flickered over Cam's form.
If Cam had heard Blair's remark, or felt her appraising glance, she did not show it. She made no reply as she turned to her to agents. "Why don't you two take a break for a few hours. Have one of the night crew come by around midnight. I'll be fine until then."
After the two men left, Cameron took a chair in the suite's large sitting area with the day's reports. Blair sat opposite her on the couch with a sketchpad. The room lights were low, and Cam's face was partially in shadow.
"Do you mind?" Blair asked as she began to draw.
Cam looked over and smiled faintly. "No."
"Most people do," Blair said without looking up.
She was sketching the fine straight nose, the deep-set dark eyes, and the sculpted cheek bones and jaw from memory. It was a face that had caught her attention the first time she saw her, and it never failed to entice her. It was a face meant to be drawn. Unfortunately, the more she saw her, the more exciting she found her. Cam was everything Blair found attractive in a woman, and the effect she had on her was unsettling. Blair found herself listening for Cam's voice when she awoke in the morning, and looking for her figure when she entered a room. She found Cam's presence both disturbing and strangely reassuring. She tried to discount her feelings by reminding herself that it was only natural to find a good-looking woman appealing. She simply chose to ignore her racing pulse and unmistakable arousal whenever Cam was near.
"I'm actually used to it."
Blair looked up. "Really?"
"My mother is an artist."
Blair regarded her seriously. "Would I know her?"
"You might," Cam said softly. "Her name is Marcea Casalls."
Blair caught her breath. "You wouldn't be joking, would you?"
Cam shook her head.
"Well." Blair was momentarily at a loss. "I suppose I should be embarrassed to even let you see my work. She is quite wonderful."
"Yes, she is. From the little I have seen of your work, so are you. Of course, I only know what I have seen of my mother' s work, and that of her friends."
"Then you have been exposed to the best," Blair said lightly. "Did you grow up in Italy?"
A shadow flickered across Cam's face, then was gone. "Yes, until I was twelve. After that, I was schooled in the United States."
Blair spoke aloud without thinking. "I remember hearing something about her husband-"
"My father was the American ambassador to Italy," Cam responded. "He was killed in a terrorist car bombing attack went I was eleven."
"Oh god, I'm sorry. I had forgotten." Blair looked at Cam with true anguish in her face. As a child she had often been frightened that something would happen to her father. Growing up surrounded by armed guards had done that to her. She never gave any thought to her own safety. To do so would have forced her to accept that the constraining security measures taken to protect her were actually necessary. "It must have been horrible for you."
Cam looked into the distance, remembering. "It was much harder for my mother. They were completely devoted, and his death nearly destroyed her. If it hadn't been for her work, I don't think she would have survived."
"And she never remarried?" Blair questioned softly.
"No. I don't think anyone else would have compared. Fortunately, her art is her life. She travels a great deal, and has many friends."
"Are you like her?" Blair asked boldly. She couldn't help wondering about the rumors concerning the death of Cameron's lover. For an instant she was jealous, and then berated herself for her foolishness.
Again, that fleeting smile. "No, my mother is an artist."
"Meaning?"
"She is a mysterious combination of deep passion, volatile sensitivities, and uncommon vision."
"Is that how you see artists?"
Cameron focused on Blair's face. "Yes. I find them to be persons of rare fragility and unsurpassed emotional depths. Hell to live with, but worth every moment of the knowing."
Her words were delivered with a deep intensity, and Blair felt them to her core. Those words threatened to rock the foundation of her world. She had never wanted anything more than she wanted Cameron Roberts to feel that way about her. It was impossible, and the last thing she wanted to feel. This need would make her weak, and endanger what little independence she still had. She was torn between the urge to flee, and the physically painful attraction that was so much more than sexual. She wrenched her eyes away from Cameron's expressive face.
"I can't draw you when you're talking," she said thickly as she focused on her charcoal and paper.
Cam watched Blair's delicate hand stroke the textured surface, thinking how like her mother Blair was. She was beautiful, gifted, and an emotional minefield. One moment she was heat and anger, the next an ember radiating sultry sensuality, and then, just as suddenly, like now, withdrawn into herself. Blair's legs were curled under her, and she bent her upper body over her work protectively. Her blond hair fell free in riotous curls around her face. Cam's mind repelled from the image of anyone harming her. But then it was her responsibility to see that nothing did.
She returned to her reading absolutely certain that her sudden urge to run her hands through those curls was simply in response to their conversation, and had nothing to do with the compelling beauty of the woman herself.
**********
At 7:00 the next morning, Cam walked out of the second bedroom after finishing a shower. Across the room, Blair and Paula Stark were so engrossed in conversation they didn't notice her. She couldn't hear them from where she was standing, but Blair had one hand on Stark's forearm and was peering intently into her face. It looked as if Stark was trying to backup, but Blair had effectively maneuvered her against the wet bar. Cam had witnessed this particular seduction before. She wasnt sure what made her angrier, Blairs obvious attention t
o the woman or the fact that Paula Stark appeared to be fascinated by her. Any kind of romantic involvement between an agent and the individuals they were guarding was strictly forbidden. It wasnt just policy, it made tactical sense. You couldnt be objective in a dangerous situation if you were personally, particularly intimately, involved with the subject.
Paula Stark slipped past Blair to answer a knock at the door. Cam automatically stepped between Blair and the door, shielding her until she was certain it was Taylor. They had been there four days, and it was time for her to make a decision.
"We need to talk," she said to Blair.
Blair regarded her suspiciously, realizing she must have seen her with Paula. She hadnt really given much thought to Paula Stark previously, although she had been aware of Stark shadowing her in the bars over the last six months. Stark was attractive, but Blair had never really been interested in her. It was probably because she guessed Stark wasnt a lesbian, and she had learned at a very young age not to fool around with straight women. However, after having been cooped up in a three room suite for four days, with a woman who seemed to turn her on without effort, and rejected her with similar ease, Blair found herself trying to entice the pretty fresh-faced young agent out of boredom.
"It seems that one of the building cleaning employees delivered the package to your door. A nondescript ten-year old boy gave her ten dollars to do it. In all probability, the stalker used the boy as a go-between so he wouldnt be recognized. Theres no way were going to ID him."
"So I can go home?" Blair asked. She had mixed feelings about that. She was sick to death of being confined, with people constantly around her, and she missed the freedom to work. On the other hand, Cam had rarely left the hotel in the four days they had been there. When she needed to sleep, she had several of the other agents stand guard. Blair had gotten used to her presence. Cam was there when she woke up, and when she went to sleep. In the many hours in between, they had talked together, read together, and shared silences together. It was the most intimate time she had spent with anyone since her days in school.
"Yes, but I think it would be best if you took some time away. A trip out-of-town might be good idea."
"Diane and I had discussed going skiing. Now might be the perfect time. Ill call her and arrange something for this weekend."
Cam nodded in agreement. "That would work. This weekend might be a little too soon, since I'll need advance notice to inform the resort and work out the shift details."
"You can do that on the plane," Blair said with a hint of irritation. She wasnt used to altering her plans, or delaying to accommodate her security teams.
"May I remind you that we had an agreement," Cam commented quietly.
"I think I agreed not to give your agents the slip," Blair responded pointedly.
"Actually, I believe you agreed to give us your cooperation," Cam countered, "as well as not giving us the slip."
Blair caught the quick smile that flashed across Camerons handsome features, and laughed in spite of herself. "Next time it will have to be in writing," she muttered. "How about if we work out the details tonight - over dinner."
Cam nodded, knowing she had been out-maneuvered, but accepting the token of co-operation.. "All right." She started to turn away, then added, "This is a first field assignment for several of my people. It wouldnt look good for them if I had to reassign them."
"And why might you need to do that?" Blair asked suspiciously.
"If one of them were to compromise their objectivity- say through a friendship with you - just for an example."
"Arent you worried about yourself, then?" Blair asked angrily. What was it to Roberts who she spent time with, as long as it didnt get in the way. And so what if it did? She hated being dictated to!
"Im not a rookie, Ms. Powell," Cam answered smoothly as she turned away.
Blair stared after her, seething. If she wanted to bed Paula Stark in the middle of the hotel lobby, she damn well would! Cameron Roberts might have control over her time, but she would never have control over anything that really mattered to her.
**********
Blair didnt see Cameron again until that evening. The rest of the day had been spent getting settled back into her apartment. Her doorbell rang at 6:30.
"Lets walk," Blair said by way of greeting. As usual, Cameron looked fit and trim in a khaki blazer over pressed stone washed jeans.
"All right," Cam said. She followed Blair to the elevator, noticing that her hair was down and the silk jacket and wide cut trousers she wore enhanced her slenderness.
Blair moved gracefully, with easy confidence, and Cam knew it was because she was going out not as Blair Powell, the Presidents daughter, but as an ordinary twenty-five year old woman going to dinner. For an instant Cam regretted her job. She wished she could view the evening ahead as a simple dinner with a beautiful woman. But she couldnt. Even though Blair could forget who she was, or try to forget, with alcohol or a never-ending series of sexual conquests, Cameron could not forget. No matter what Blair chose to show the outside world, Cameron knew her to be the many faceted, complicated woman she was sworn to protect. Nevertheless, she found herself looking forward to dinner with a sense of anticipation she hadnt known in years.
As the elevator came to a halt and the doors began to slide open, Blair placed her hand on Cams forearm. "I dont want the rest of the team to come with us," she said, an undertone of urgency in her voice. She had been watched constantly for days, with near strangers supervising her every moment. For just a few hours, she wanted to be alone to dine with a woman.
"I know you dont," Cam responded quietly. "And I know why. But we cant go alone. Not now, especially so soon after that package was delivered. Ill tell them to stay out of sight."
"Its not the same."
"I know it isnt. Believe me, if I could change it, I would."
Blair brushed her fingers along Camerons sleeve, touching the back of Cam's hand with her fingertips for just a moment. She recognized the sincerity in her voice. "Thank you."
Cameron whispered a few words into her microphone as she stepped out of the elevator to take Blairs arm. She wasnt entirely certain this was a good idea, but she had a feeling if she didnt allow Blair this small bit of independence, she would lose whatever chance she had of Blairs cooperation. In truth, she didnt have the heart to keep her constrained any longer. It wasnt just the last four days, it was the last fifteen years.
As they stepped out into the brisk early evening air, she realized how much she wanted to give Blair these few moments of happiness. She caught her breath in surprise when Blair slipped her fingers into her hand, all too aware that at least three of her agents were watching.
"I didnt think you were afraid of rumors, Commander," Blair said tauntingly.
"Its not the rumors Im afraid of," Cam said dryly, "its 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 cant believe you just said that!" Blair laughed, coaxed out of her anger by the ridiculousness of the image.
