by Radclyffe
She hesitated briefly when she saw Cam. They smiled at each other, forgetting for a moment that there was anyone else in the room. It was one of those automatic responses that neither of them could prevent, that brief surge of pleasurable recognition that was beyond volition or better judgment.
In an instant, their smiles disappeared and they greeted one another formally.
"Good morning, Ms. Powell," Cam said as she turned and began walking beside her, Stark and Savard falling in on either side.
Blair nodded quickly and continued toward the front door without breaking stride again. Per routine, Stark held the door open and Cam went through just slightly ahead and to the right of Blair. Cam hesitated fleetingly at the sidewalk as she looked up and down the street and then across the park, just as she had the day the shot was fired. It was so subtle that no one except another agent would have noticed. No one else except Blair.
Blair was always acutely aware of the way Cam positioned herself between Blair and any potential threat, even when they just walked down the sidewalk together. In this particular location, she would never lose that instant of stomach-churning fear.
Cam sensed Blair stiffen beside her and murmured in a voice too low for anyone else to hear, "It's just procedure. Try to ignore it."
"I'd like to be able to," Blair said just as softly as they crossed the sidewalk toward the black limousine. It would be so much simpler if she could. "But I can't."
Cam stood by the door as Blair slid into the back seat, then followed her in while Stark and Savard proceeded to the car idling just in front of theirs.
As they pulled away, Blair said coolly, "I'll be meeting some people when we get there."
Cam regarded her carefully, slightly surprised that she was volunteering information, while at the same time mildly annoyed that she hadn't told them sooner. Blair wasn't required to tell them everything, of course, but it was always helpful to have as much advance data as possible. However, she was grateful for this small improvement in communication. "Will they be joining you for the run?" Cam asked.
Blair nodded, watching out the tinted windows of the limousine as the city slid by. "Yes. I've invited Diane and another friend."
Cam didn't ask for the details. She wondered, however, if she would be spending another day watching the admittedly attractive Dr. Coleman pursue Blair.
You put yourself in this position, and you knew what it would mean, she reminded herself. But she couldn't help but think that she hadn't come close to imagining how difficult it would be. She also hadn't expected it to be so complicated for the two of them to talk. The lack of privacy didn't help, but it was more than that. She had to admit that part of it was pride, and some of it was pain, and a great deal of it was a lifetime of defenses, on both sides, standing between them now.
Cam tried to put her personal feelings aside until the day's work was done. "Savard, Stark, and I will be with you along the route."
Blair turned her attention from the window to study Cam. It was a face she never seemed to tire of looking at. Seeing her made something inside her pulse, swift and sharp and hot -- it was part desire and part longing and, so unexpectedly, part tenderness. It defied explanation, but in spite of everything, she welcomed the sensation. "Special Agent Savard is quite the beauty," Blair observed dryly.
Cam raised an eyebrow but decided comment was probably not required. Renee Savard was indeed an attractive woman, now that she considered it. She hadn't thought about it earlier, in fact, she hadn't paid much attention to her other than to consider what to do with her. Savard was an agent under her command by circumstance, but under her command nonetheless, and that was the only way she thought of her. When she noted Savard's appearance at all, it was merely to reflect that despite her photographic beauty, almost anyone paled when compared to Blair. Blair's beauty was fired by her passion and her temper and her absolute unwillingness to yield. She was beautiful in a way so primal that being near her made Cam's skin burn.
"What?" Blair asked quietly.
Cam blinked, uncharacteristically startled. "I'm sorry?"
"You were smiling," Blair said, a slight edge to her voice. "Thinking of Savard, were you?"
"No. Actually," Cam said before she could stop herself, "I was thinking of you."
Across the narrow expanse of the limousine where they sat facing one another on opposite seats, their legs nearly touching, Blair's blue eyes darkened to indigo. "You should try doing that more often," she said, her tone throaty with invitation.
Cam met her gaze, captivated by the heat in her eyes. For a moment forgetting everything else, she said, her voice husky, "No, Ms. Powell, I shouldn't. It's distracting."
"Well, Commander," Blair said very slowly, very quietly, staring at the pulse that beat rapidly in Cam's neck, "I like you when you're distracted. In fact, I like you that way very much."
"You're distracting me," Cam complained playfully as she tried to read the newspaper.
"I like you when you're distracted," Blair responded, running her hand over the soft cotton fabric of the sweatpants Cam wore. "In fact, I like distracting you."
They were lying together on the couch in the late afternoon sun in Diane's apartment. They had finally managed to shower and dress, which for the first eighteen hours they had been together they hadn't been able to accomplish. Every time they made it into the shower one or the other of them would start something and they'd end up back in bed. Starvation finally drove them to get up. Cam eventually made a trip to a nearby deli for sandwiches and newspapers and something to drink.
"What do you imagine they think I'm doing up here?" Blair mused, her fingers tracing the seam along the inside of Cam's thigh.
Cam sighed, most of her attention focused on the light pressure of Blair's fingers moving rhythmically up and down the same fine line, over and over again, creeping higher up the inside of her leg each time. She settled back against the cushions, her muscles twitching faintly at Blair's touch. "They're not supposed to think anything about it at all." Her voice caught softly as Blair stroked closer to the heat between her legs.
"Maybe they're not supposed to, but they are human, aren't they," Blair continued. She lifted the edge of Cam's shirt and circled her hand over Cam's stomach, absently drawing one finger up and down the center of Cam's body. "I've come so many times in the last twenty-four hours I didn't think anything could excite me," she said in wonder. "But, God, you do." She pressed her palm swiftly to the triangle between Cam's thighs, making her jump, then just as quickly moved it back to Cam's stomach. "So, you were saying about discretion?"
Cam's voice was low, heavy with the urgency of mounting desire as she answered," Their jobs depend upon it. But it's more than that..." She was aware of the fact that her breath was coming a little faster and that her sentences were a bit choppy. She knew she was wet again and hardening with the rush of blood and need. She took a breath and added, "Believe it or not, we understand that what we do is an infringement. The very least we can do is not speculate upon what we observe."
She looked down, watching Blair's fingers move under her T-shirt. She wondered at the ease with which Blair was able to ignite every nerve ending with a caress. She had absolutely nothing to say about it. It was as if her body succumbed to Blair's touch as a tree yielded to the wind, bending to her will. "Blair," she warned huskily, wondering if Blair had any idea what she was doing to her.
"You have the most amazing body," Blair observed casually, massaging her palm over Cam's rib cage, brushing fleetingly over her chest, smiling as Cam's nipples stiffened rapidly. Cam groaned and reached for her, and just as quickly, Blair leaned away.
"I think you should just read the newspaper and ignore me," Blair said with a perfectly serious expression.
Cam's eyes widened slightly, her hands rubbing lightly up and down Blair's arms. Her skin felt hot. "I don't think I could concentrate."
"Try," Blair suggested with a hint of command in her voice. "In fact, why don't you read the
headlines out loud? A synopsis of today's current events would be good. Make yourself useful."
"Blair," Cam said, ominously now. "I've been trained to resist torture."
Blair burst out laughing and loosened the ties on Cam's sweatpants, slipping to the floor to kneel between Cam's legs. "Oh really? Well then, Commander, let's put that training to the test. Go ahead - read."
Cam reached for the New York Times and held the folded newspaper in her right hand. The pages fluttered as her fingers trembled. "Uh - let's see. Uh -dot com stocks rose finally --" She gasped when Blair pulled at the skin of her lower abdomen with her teeth. "God-"
"I'm listening," Blair murmured, eyes nearly closed. She licked the red spot she had just bitten and pushed the cotton fabric farther down Cam's thighs. She pressed her palms to the inside of Cam's legs, bringing her thumbs very close to the visibly swollen clitoris. Cam's hips arched and she groaned again.
"Not until I hear the sports scores," Blair whispered, leaning forward and kissing the soft skin at the top of Cam's thigh. "How about them Yankees?"
"Blair," Cam gasped, tossing the paper aside. "I can't -- read. I can't talk - I can barely breathe."
Blair brushed her thumb lightly over the tip of her clitoris.
Cam pushed back against the couch, her neck arched, her hands fisted by her sides. "I'm ready -- do that again - to divulge -- ah, yes - right there - State secrets." She found Blair's face with one hand, moved her fingers into her hair, pulled her closer. "Suck me," she gasped, her voice cracking with need.
Blair held off another second, but not without effort. She was shaking. "God," she whispered, "I want to taste you."
When Blair finally circled her with her lips, Cam jerked, her fingers convulsing in Blair's hair. She clamped her jaws down on a moan and tried to think of anything except the waves of pleasure coursing down her legs, up her spine, through her guts. She wanted it never to end. She pushed against Blair's mouth, dimly aware that she might bruise her, trying not to press too hard. But she couldn't stop, couldn't get enough air, couldn't hold it back. "Blair-" she cried, lifting off the couch as her legs stiffened, pounded by the fury of the orgasm whipping through her.
Before Cam regained her bearings, Blair was in her arms, straddling her thigh, rocking hard on her leg, her face pressed to Cam's neck.
"You make me burn," Blair moaned, clutching Cam as she climbed frantically to her peak. "You make me -ooh-"
Her words were lost in a strangled cry and all Cam could do was hold onto her, embracing her securely while she took her pleasure.
The limousine pulled to a stop on the edge of the green in Prospect Park. Cam shuddered faintly, her dark eyes liquid with unspoken emotion. She struggled to keep her voice steady as she said, "I'm not interested in being distracted."
"That's your problem, Commander," Blair said softly, seeing the arousal Cam couldn't successfully hide. "Not mine."
As she slid across the seat toward the door, she ran her hand down the length of Cam's thigh. She smiled to herself as Cam gasped sharply. "I told you once your body never lies."
Chapter fifteen
Prospect Park, the starting point for the race, was slightly more than half the size of Manhattan's eight hundred acre Central Park, but it nevertheless housed a wildlife center, a music pagoda, a lake, and many other opportunities for city dwellers to escape the urban stresses for a few hours. The area of Brooklyn around the park was a study in contrasts. The west side was bordered by Park Slope, a conclave of historic brownstones housing the wealthy and privileged. The eastern extent of the sprawling park abutted Crown Heights and Bedford-Stuyvesant, areas that in recent years had become dangerous territory for tourists and inhabitants alike. At seven AM on a Sunday morning, there were usually a few early morning enthusiasts enjoying the opportunity to run or rollerblade in relative solitude. Such was not the case today.
Long Meadow, an open, rolling ninety acre section nearly a mile in length was already bustling with people. The Race for the Cure drew greater numbers of supporters than almost any similar event, because the disease itself affected so many. It was a media event as much as anything else, especially with Blair as the keynote speaker, and photographers and news vans were already present in abundant numbers.
Cam stood next to Blair by the side of the car, scanning the hundreds of participants gathering for the start of the run. "It's going to be very crowded along the entire route, especially when we get into Central Park. I'd appreciate it if you'd not lose us."
Blair met Cam's eyes, and for the first time in a long time, she couldn't read the expression in them. Even though they had been physically separated since Cam's return, she had at least had the comfort of seeing what was behind her professional façade when she looked into her dark eyes. This new barrier stung. "You're very good at your job, Commander. I'm sure you'll manage somehow."
Blair abruptly turned and walked off toward the area where the race organizers had set up information booths. Stark and Savard were approaching from the second vehicle, and Cam signaled the two women to accompany Blair while she radioed Mac for his position.
"Do you have the commanders of the other teams there?" she asked without preamble, watching Blair disappear into the crowd of men and women clustered around the long registration tables. It bothered her that Blair was out of her visual range, and it occurred to her that it might be less a security issue than the fact that she couldn't see who she was with. Terrific.
"I'll be right there," she snapped into her mike. Her lapse in concentration on the ride over had left her unsettled. So did the simmering remnants of desire. She ignored the physical annoyance with effort and checked Blair's position again.
Across the wide field, Blair stood talking to a number of people, Diane Bleeker among them. Cam resisted the urge to scan the faces nearby for the very handsome Doctor Coleman. She assured herself that Stark and Savard were well positioned, and walked over to join Mac and the other security chiefs.
*
It was hot and sunny and, surprisingly for August, without the heavy humidity that often blanketed the city in late summer. After greeting the appropriate people and allowing the media their few minutes of photo-ops, Blair found a quiet corner in the shade to stretch, preparing for the run. As she leaned over, legs braced, stretching her hamstrings, Diane's familiar voice remarked from beside her, "I see you've brought along a new addition. A very nice one, too."
Blair shifted to look up at Diane. She didn't have to ask whom she meant. She had seen her friend's face light up with an appreciative and frankly appraising expression when Savard had come into view a few minutes before. "That would be the FBI's contribution to my team."
Diane reclined on the grass next to Blair and began to lean forward, touching her toes effortlessly. "What's going on?" she asked casually, moving smoothly into a yoga pose.
Blair sat beside her, reaching for one ankle and crossing it over the opposite knee, rotating her torso as she said, "Nothing."
"Blair, friend - just how dumb do the you think I am?" Diane asked calmly, breathing deeply in the proscribed ujjay manner. "First Roberts makes a surprise appearance, and now you've got the FBI following you around. That means something."
Blair turned over and pushed off ten fast fingertip push-ups in perfect form. Returning to the sitting position, she said, "Just routine." Somehow talking about it made it much too real. She didn't want this in her life. Except for her first tentative discussions with her friend AJ at the Bureau, she hadn't told any of her acquaintances. She had intentionally avoided briefings with the FBI. The only thing she wanted to know from them was that they had caught him.
Diane folded both legs into a full lotus position and slipped one arm behind her back, twisting slowly in the opposite direction. "Believe it or not, I can keep a secret if I need to. Besides, my feelings will be hurt if I'm the last to find out and I miss all the fun."
Blair snorted in disgust. "Believe me, if you think this is a treat, you can tak
e my place any day."
She rose quickly and began to alternately lift each leg to her chest in rapid succession. She looked across the gathering crowd and easily picked out Cam where she stood talking with several officious-looking individuals. There was nothing flashy or showy about her, but she stood out from the others. The air around her seemed charged. It was amazing - and frightening.
Diane studied Blair's face as she followed her gaze. "She's gotten to you, hasn't she?" Diane said softly.
"Oh, yeah," Blair said without thinking. She looked away, shrugging. "She's back because my father wanted her here. I've been getting a little more fan mail than usual, and you know how seriously these people take those things. It's nothing, really."
Diane nodded, knowing there was more but willing to wait for the details. Eventually, she'd get the rest out of her. She rose to stand beside her, waving to a familiar figure drawing near. "Marcy's been asking about you."
Blair looked at her, an eyebrow raised in question. "Is that so?"
"Yes," Diane said, grabbing them each a water bottle from a nearby table. "She wants to know how available you might be."
"Then she should ask me herself," Blair said impatiently. "For God's sake, we're all adults."
"I think she wants to avoid being shot down. Your signals were a little mixed last weekend at my place," Diane pointed out dryly.
Seeing Marcy's friendly smile, Blair was a little embarrassed to realize she hadn't given the events at Diane's gathering any thought. She had been too rattled the last week by Cam's abrupt reappearance and the emotional chaos that followed to give anything, or anyone, else much thought. It hadn't occurred to her that Marcy Coleman might have other ideas, but, recalling what had happened, she supposed it should have.
It had all started after Cam left the party.
Blair watched Cam move through the crowd, murmur something briefly to Ellen Grant, and then walk out the door. She did not look back to where Blair still stood in the shadows on the balcony.
