Honor 04 - Honor Guards

by Radclyffe

  "I've had paintings in galleries before, but never a solo showing." Blair glanced around the room and saw so many pieces of herself on display. For the most part, the people who strolled about were friends whom she trusted, but even so, she rarely exposed so much of her soul to anyone. Only Cam has seen it all. "It will almost be easier tomorrow night at the open house, with strangers. Somehow, their reactions don't seem as critical."

  "I'd like to tell you that you'll get used to it, but you probably never will. Every time you let one go, you'll wonder if anyone will understand what you saw when you painted it, what you felt in your heart that compelled you to create it." Marcea shrugged, her expression distant. "But you'll keep doing it, because that's who you are."

  Strangely, Blair was comforted by the sentiment, because coming from Marcea, an artist whom she revered, her own uncertainties seemed far less momentous. "It's a wonderful feeling in the moment, though, isn't it? When in the midst of painting you begin to see those indefinable emotions coming to life on the canvas."

  Marcea's eyes brightened and she laughed. "I won't say it's the best thing I've ever experienced, but it comes close."

  "Yes." Unconsciously, Blair's eyes drifted to Cam, who stood a few feet away, her attention seemingly focused entirely on the room. Despite the remote expression on her lover's face, Blair was certain that Cam knew precisely where she was. It comes close — but it can't compare to her.

  "Everything is all right, I take it?" Marcea questioned gently, following Blair's gaze. "The press has left you alone about your relationship?"

  Blair shrugged. "We're still getting the questions every time I'm out in public, but there isn't much more to say than what we've already said. For the time being, the newshounds are content with their usual speculations."

  "Well, I suppose that's the best you could hope for then."

  "Apparently." Blair gave a start as she spied Diane talking with another woman on the far side of the room. "Would you excuse me for a few minutes?"

  "Of course. I want to have some time alone with these wonderful paintings."

  Blair kissed Marcea on the cheek and headed across the room to where Diane stood with Valerie Ross. Singly, either woman would have been considered striking. Both were blond, fair skinned, fine boned and classically beautiful, and both radiated sensuality and confidence. Standing side by side, however, they were breathtaking.

  Diane radiated the golden heat of sunlight. Her body language and sultry voice always reminded Blair of a young Lauren Bacall. In contrast, Valerie—Claire—was Bergman. Deceptively cool and remote on the surface, but ice was capable of burning, too. Under other circumstances, Blair would have enjoyed watching the two of them together, would have enjoyed speculating how one, or both, might have responded to her in an intimate setting. Now, she registered their individual magnetism and how together their allure was magnified, but she felt no compulsion, no desire, to experience any part of it herself.

  The two women were so deep in conversation that they did not notice Blair until she stood beside them, "Good evening."

  "Blair!" Diane kissed her cheek, then indicated her companion. "This is Valerie Ross, one of the art dealers here for the preview. This is her first time with us."

  Blair looked into Valerie's eyes as she extended her hand, noticing as she hadn't that night in DC under the dim glow of the streetlights how piercingly intelligent those blue eyes were. "Blair Powell, Ms. Ross."

  "Hello."

  "I'm happy that you could join us this evening," Blair said smoothly as she released Valerie's hand. The other woman's grip had been firm, her palm warm and dry. She didn't appear nervous, but she was watching Blair intently.

  "I have a client who saw one of your works in San Francisco not long ago and was very interested in what you're showing here."

  Blair frowned. "San Francisco? I didn't show anything..." She laughed. "The sketch that Marcea Casells included in her recent show?"

  Valerie nodded. "Yes. Apparently my client was quite captivated by it and was finally able to cajole Ms. Casells into revealing your name. I hope I haven't gotten her into any trouble."

  "Not at all. Have you had a chance to look around this evening?"

  "I've only just arrived." Valerie gave Diane a slow smile. "Ms. Bleeker and I were getting acquainted."

  Blair was astounded to see Diane blush. She didn't think she'd ever witnessed that particular reaction from her friend before. "Is there anything in particular you're interested in?"

  "My client," Valerie responded with the slightest emphasis on the word, "has rather eclectic tastes. I thought I'd just wander around for a few minutes. If you don't mind?"

  "Absolutely," Diane interjected, resuming her role as Blair's agent, "Take your time. If you have any questions, I'd be more than happy to answer them, or, I'm certain, Ms. Powell would." She looked at Blair questioningly.

  "Of course. I'd be happy to." Blair gestured to the small bar on the far side of the room. "I was just about to get a glass of wine. Would you like one?"

  "Yes, that would be lovely."

  "I'll see you later, then, Diane," Blair said as she and Valerie turned away.

  As they moved through the crowd, Valerie said in a low tone, "I'm sorry. This is awkward. The invitation said it was a private pre-opening showing. Would you like me to leave?"

  They had reached the bar, and Blair merely replied, "White wine?"

  When Valerie nodded, Blair asked the tuxedoed woman managing the drinks for two glasses and handed one to her companion. She led Valerie to an out-of-the-way spot before speaking again. "Is there a client?"

  Valerie's sculpted eyebrows rose. "Yes. A rather wealthy one who I'm quite sure will be making a purchase."

  "Cam is here."

  "Yes, I saw her."

  "Is she any part of the reason that you're here?"

  Valerie held Blair's gaze steadily. "No."

  Blair sipped her wine and nodded. "I'm an artist, Valerie, and you're an art dealer. If Diane invited you, then she believes it's important for you to be here. So I'm pleased that you're here as well."

  "Thank you, Ms. Powell." Valerie tasted the wine. It was a very good white burgundy, much better than the average fare at such gatherings. "Would you prefer that I not speak to Cameron?"

  Cameron. Blair took a long slow breath, the corner of her mouth finally lifting in a faint smile. "I doubt there's a lesbian on the planet immune to your charms, but I trust Cam to resist."

  Valerie laughed, her alto voice rich and full. "Should I ask if those legions include you?"

  "You can ask," Blair replied.

  "No, I don't need to." Briefly, Valerie looked past Blair, finding Cam in the crowd. "I already know the answer. I do want to see your work, and I have work of my own to do. At some point, I'd like to say hello to...an old friend."

  "I understand." Blair extended her hand. "Please let me know if there's anything you'd like to know about the paintings."

  "I will. Thank you. It was nice meeting you, Ms. Powell."

  Blair nodded. "And you, Ms. Ross."

  2125 7 September 2001

  Cam watched the encounter, her expression impassive. Blair and Valerie appeared intensely engaged, but there didn't appear to be any sign of imminent bloodshed. She hadn't really expected there to be. If Blair had not wanted Valerie to attend, she would have said so. And Valerie was much too savvy and sophisticated to be anything other than totally decorous. And, most importantly, Valerie knew that Cam loved Blair, and that whatever they might have shared belonged to the past. In fact, their relationship belonged to a completely different lifetime.

  Cam checked her watch. One minute. She keyed her mic to the open channel for all of her agents. "All teams—no one enters the building from this point on, regardless of invitation. Copy?"

  A chorus of affirmatives sounded as Cam made her way through the crowd to Blair's side. "Everything all right?"

  "Mmm." Blair curled her fingers around the inside of Cam's for
earm. "Yes. Fine. You?"

  "Sure." At that moment, Cam heard the commotion that she had been expecting and reached for Blair's hand. "I'm so proud of you."

  Confused, Blair looked at Cam and then toward the rear of the gallery where a tall, thin African American man entered, followed closely by two more Secret Service agents, Lucinda Washburn, and her father. "Oh my God. Dad!"

  The president spied Blair and, grinning broadly, crossed the room with his customary purposeful stride, Lucinda at his side. He kissed a still-stunned Blair. "Hi, honey."

  "Dad? Luce?" Blair stared at Cam. "Did you know about this?"

  "Only since this morning. And I was sworn to secrecy," she hastily added.

  "Don't blame Cam. I wanted to surprise you," the president said, "and you know that I can't go anywhere without someone announcing it. We didn't even let her tell her own team."

  "This is so..." Blair put her arms around her father's neck and hugged him. Voice choked, she murmured, "Thank you so much."

  "Don't thank me, honey," Andrew Powell whispered. "I love you."

  Blair hugged him once more and then stepped back, her smile brilliant. "So, do you two want to look around?"

  "How about a guided tour?"

  Blair, flanked by her father and Lucinda, turned and headed toward the front of the gallery. Tom Turner, the president's security chief, fell into step with them along with the other agents.

  "This has got to be the most exciting gallery showing I've ever been to," Valerie remarked as she stepped up to Cam's side.

  Cam looked into the familiar blue eyes, her own impenetrable. "Have you been to many?"

  "Quite a few, over the years."

  "Are things going well?" Cam followed Blair with her eyes even as she spoke to the woman with whom she had once shared a part of herself, perhaps even a part of her heart.

  "Yes. There don't seem to be any repercussions from the situation in DC."

  "Good." Cam glanced at Valerie. "I'm glad."

  "Well, I only wanted to say hello. And to wish you happiness, Cameron."

  "Thank you." Cam smiled. "You, too. Valerie."

  As Valerie moved off into the crowd, Cam's gaze had already returned to Blair.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  1000 09Sep01

  Report: Team One's pilot and six other men checked out of the Panther Hotel in Deerfield Beach, Florida. Destination: Boston.

  1005 9 September 2001

  At the sound of footsteps, Diane looked up from where she sat reading the morning paper on her tiny balcony overlooking Central Park. "Good morning! I can't believe you're up before Cam."

  "Neither can I," Blair said as she sat in the tan canvas director's chair opposite her friend and balanced a full cup of coffee on her knee. "She has to be totally exhausted not to wake up before this."

  "Well, the reception last night did go on until almost four. And the two of you have been running around like maniacs for a month straight."

  Blair, wearing only a borrowed T-shirt and her briefs, stretched out her legs and sipped her coffee. "I know. And she's not only had to worry about my security, she's had to worry about...my health."

  "I'm sure she can handle it, but these few extra hours of sleep will probably help." Out of habit, Diane lowered her voice unnecessarily. "Where are the rest of your spookies?"

  "Probably down on the street with the vehicle. They usually hang around in case I decide to go out wandering."

  "You haven't done much of that in the last six months," Diane commented dryly.

  "No." Blair smiled softly, thinking that the restless urge to escape her own life had abated since she'd fallen in love with Cam. "I'm getting downright boring."

  "Oh, right." Diane snorted. "I wouldn't stray too far from home either if I had that woman of yours waiting for me."

  Blair grinned, then sighed and leaned her head back, squinting into the sun. "God, what a weekend."

  "Yes," Diane said fervently. "An excellent weekend. Between the Friday and Saturday shows, we sold a total of six paintings, and I anticipate at least four more will go before the end of the week. You, my love, are a great success."

  "Maybe." Blair turned her head to regard Diane, her expression pensive. "Or maybe they just want to own something painted by the president's daughter."

  "Darling, people do not spend thousands of dollars for souvenirs. Trust me, I know these buyers. And they know art."

  Blair blushed. "You think?"

  "God, I know." Diane's voice was a combination of fond exasperation and mild irritation. "Just because I'm your friend doesn't mean that I don't know my business. Because I do, and I wouldn't represent you if you weren't going to make me rich."

  "I know, I know," Laughing, Blair propped a bare foot up on the railing.

  With forced casualness, Diane asked, "So, what do you think of Valerie Ross?"

  "Uh...well, I only spoke with her for a few minutes."

  Diane arched her brow. "As I recall, it was closer to ten minutes. And did it really take you more than one to form an impression?"

  "No, actually, it took about thirty seconds—maybe less. She's gorgeous, sophisticated, intelligent, and...well, I guess, sexy."

  "You guess?'"

  "Okay, she's sexy." Blair pushed upright and regarded Diane intently. "Is this simply an academic discussion or does it have a point?"

  "I really don't know." Diane sighed. "Her name first came to my attention about six months ago in conjunction with a large sale at another gallery. And she's currently representing a client whom I know to be a generous buyer. That's why I extended an early invitation to her."

  "Uh-huh. That's business. What about the rest?" For the second time in two days, Blair was surprised to see Diane blush. "Ooh, there is something going on."

  "No," Diane said with a swift shake of her head. "There really isn't. She gave me her card along with an invitation to call her. She's in town for a few more days."

  Carefully, Blair asked, "And are you going to?"

  Diane turned in her chair, curling one silk-pajama-clad leg beneath her, and met Blair's probing gaze. "I don't know."

  "Why? Did something about her bother you?"

  "No." Diane toyed with the corner of the newspaper lying in her lap. "Well, yes."

  Blair waited.

  "Everything about her attracted me."

  "Ahh, I see."

  "No, I don't think you do." Diane considered how intense the connection with Valerie—a woman whom she barely knew—had seemed from the beginning. She'd not felt that kind of instant synergy with anyone hi more years than she could remember. "I'm not sure that even I see."

  Blair thought of what she knew, and did not know, about Valerie Ross. The only thing she was certain of was that Valerie had meant something to Cam, and Cam would not have trusted a woman who was not worthy of it. In her own brief conversations with Valerie, she had sensed both honor and integrity. Is there anything else that really matters?

  "I think," Blair said gently, reaching out a hand to her best friend, "that if she affected you that much, then you should make that phone call."

  "You don't think I'm being...rash?" Diane asked softly.

  Blair laughed. "And if you are?"

  Diane smiled ruefully. "Yes, I suppose there are far worse things than losing at love."

  "Yes," Blair murmured. "And if you don't try, you can't win."

  1115 9 September 2001

  Cam walked out of the bathroom naked, toweling her hair. Blair sat on the edge of the bed with a cup of coffee. Another sat beside her on the nightstand.

  "Hey," Cam said. "You abandoned me this morning."

  "I didn't have the heart to wake you." Blair swung her legs up onto the bed and leaned back against the pillows, watching her lover with an appreciative smile. "You were really out."

  "I always seem to sleep like the dead after we make love." Cam leaned down and kissed Blair's mouth. "I had a great time last night."

  "At the gallery?" Blair's ton
e was teasing.

  "Yes," Cam replied seriously as she straightened up. "And back here afterward, too. I especially liked the part where you begged me to—-" She ducked as a pillow sailed toward her head.

  "Be careful, Commander," Blair threatened. "I have ways of making your life hell."

  Cam grinned. "Where's Diane?"

  "She went out. A brunch date."

  "Ah, sorry I missed her." Cam reached for her trousers, which she'd left across a chair the night before. "I guess it's time for me to check in with the team."

  "Diane's having brunch with Valerie," Blair added quietly.

  Cam picked up her pants, stepped into them, and, her expression unchanged, zipped the fly. "Really."

  "Yes. A spur-of-the-moment thing." Blair's tone was neutral, but she watched her lover's face carefully. "Does that bother you?"

  "Not for the reasons you might be thinking," Cam said gently. Still shirtless, she sat on the side of the bed and reached for the coffee Blair had brought for her. "I don't have any romantic feelings for...Valerie. I like her, I also like Diane." She sipped the coffee, her eyes on Blair. "But I love you, and Diane's your best friend. You're the one I care about."

  "What do I have to do with it?"

  "How are you going to feel if they start seeing one another seriously?"

  Blair shrugged. "I honestly don't know. It's been a long time since Diane has had a real relationship. That can change things in a friendship, and I suppose it would take some adjusting on my part."

  "Has our being together changed things for you and Diane?"

  "I don't think so, but then most of the time we still see each other alone."

  Cam nodded. "Diane doesn't know anything about Valerie's past, does she?"

  "I don't see how she could, they just met." Blair sighed. "Do you think Valerie will tell her?"

  "I don't know. But if she does, she won't mention me." Cam set the cup aside and covered Blair's hand where it lay on the bed with her own. "But you know. And if they're seeing each other, Diane would probably want the four of us to spend some time together. That would only be natural."