by Radclyffe
“I was planning on coming in after you were inside. It’s not the best idea for me to be too easily identified. For those times wed prefer none of us be recognized.”
Blair laughed with just a hint of bitterness. “Times like last night, you mean. When it might be embarrassing.”
“For those times when you might like as much privacy as possible,” Cam amended quietly.
Blair stared at her. “You’d like me to think you care?”
Cam shrugged lightly, a small smile flickering at the corner of her mouth. “The happier you are, the happier I’m going to be.”
Blair laughed again, this time with no restraint. “You are honest at least, although I’m not sure how far that will get you.”
“It’s the only card I have to play,” Cam said seriously.
Blair surveyed her coolly. “Your approach is certainly novel. I’m used to strong-armed tactics—’behave or else’. No one has tried the humble ‘I’m just here to look after you’ routine before. I suppose you think I’ll fall for that and suddenly bare my—soul for you?”
Her tone was mockingly suggestive, and her frank survey of Cams body left little question of her intent. She shifted slightly on the leather seat, baring an expanse of smooth, well-muscled thigh.
Cam smiled, unperturbed. No matter how attractive Blair Powell was, and she was damned attractive, Cam had no intention of being sidetracked. “If I can do my job without getting in your way, I will. As much as that is possible, I’ll see that that happens. There’ll be times when it’s impossible. I’ll apologize in advance for that.”
“But you won’t bend the rules—not even as a favor?” Blair questioned softly, her tone heavy with innuendo.
“No,” Cam stated flatly. She bent her head slightly as a voice in her ear appraised her of their location. Looking up she caught the surprise in Blair’s eyes before her elegant features set into an expression of arrogant dismissal.
“Were almost there,” Cam informed her. “One of the agents will walk you in.”
“I know the drill,” Blair snapped, irritated at the agents implacable demeanor. Maybe she was wrong; maybe Roberts was straight after all. But the way she had looked in the bar! God, she was so hot, and seemed so comfortable there. Knowing Cam was watching from across the room while the stranger in leather took her pleasure from Blair’s body had been an incredible turn on for her. More exciting than anything the woman against her was doing. She wanted Cam to feel as unsettled as she had been the night before. So far, she hadn’t been able to crack the agent’s cool exterior. If she couldn’t unbalance her in some way, it was going to be very difficult to elude her and her watch dogs.
“Enjoy the opening,” Cam said quietly as Blair slid from the limo. Blair did not grace her with a response.
———
Diane greeted her with an affectionate hug, whispering softly, “Hey, darlin—I called you all last evening. Out on the prowl?”
Blair shrugged imperceptibly, aware of the reporters nearby. “For a while.”
They moved away from the crowd milling around the small bar which offered the obligatory wine and cheese. Blair smiled at the people she knew as well as those she didn’t. She had so much practice at this she barely registered the faces any longer.
“Get lucky?” Diane probed with the slightest edge in her voice. They had known each other for years, since prep school at Choate, where they had been lovers briefly as teenagers. There had been more than one time Diane wished they still were. There were moments when she caught sight of Blair unexpectedly and her breath would catch with sudden desire. Blair was beautiful, talented, and—most attractively—emotionally remote. Just the kind of challenge Diane liked in her women. When she looked at the cool, self-contained woman beside her, she barely remembered the eager, open young girl with whom she had first shared love and simple unbridled sexual pleasure. She hadn’t caught a glimpse of her in years.
Blair’s smile was brittle. “Depends on how you define that. I enjoyed her.”
“Did she enjoy you?” Diane pushed, knowing full well Blair rarely allowed her sexual conquests the pleasure of having her. Which was one of the reasons Diane remained attracted. Like the exquisite one-of-a-kind works of art she brokered, she lusted after the exceptional, the singular, the one thing that no one else had. She wanted to be the one to wrest a cry of passion from those beautiful lips, to break the silence of Blair’s isolation.
A warning flickered in Blair’s blue eyes. There were places where even her oldest friend was not welcome. “She got what she was looking for. She left satisfied.”
Yes, but did you? Diane thought, but wisely did not say. She surveyed the room, pleased at the turn out. Whenever she showed Blair’s paintings, there was interest. Some of it, of course, was due to Blair’s notoriety, but most of it was due to her genuine talent. The collectors were beginning to buy her work, recognizing its value. It wasn’t a solo showing this time, but Blair was the featured artist.
“Where’s your new Spooky?” Diane asked.
“Directly across the room. She just came in,” Blair responded. Cameron was looking casually in their direction without seeming to focus on them. She was good. Blair knew perfectly well that she was the only thing Cameron was looking at. She also knew that the handsome agent saw her only as an assignment, an object to be moved, contained, and controlled on some giant chess board. Blair might be the queen, but she had been stripped of her power. She was ruled by pawns, and she hated it. Especially when her keeper was a woman so attractive Blair felt a twinge of desire every time she saw her. That made her even more eager to escape those intense grey eyes.
“Oh my,” Diane murmured, following Blair’s gaze. She took in the lean physique and androgynous features in one swift appraising glance. “She is tantalizing.”
Irked at the suggestive tone in Diane’s voice and even more irritated at her own surge of possessiveness, Blair snapped, “Yeah, if she isn’t being paid to watch you.”
“ Id almost be willing to pay for that,” Diane rejoined, ignoring the edge in Blair’s tone. She had never let friendship stand in the way of her attraction to another woman, and if Blair was interested too, that just intensified the challenge. This one looked like she would take some work. There was a nearly visible barrier around her, her indifference shouting look if you want to, I couldn’t care less. Diane loved bringing those untouchable types to their knees, so to speak.
“You need to mingle, darlin,” Diane said as she moved away, “and so do I if I’m going to sell anything.”
Blair watched her lithe blonde friend melt into the throng, wondering how long it would take her to get around to Agent Roberts. She frowned at her own concern, and turned smiling to the director of the Museum of Modern Art, greeting him by name without a hint of her inner disquiet.
———
“It’s a shame you can’t enjoy the artwork,” Diane said softly as she moved next to Cam. “Not that watching Blair is not enjoyable. I’m Diane Bleeker, Blair’s agent.”
“How do you do,” Cam nodded politely, knowing full well exactly who the sophisticated woman beside her was. “I have managed a glance or two at the works.”
“See anything you like,” Diane queried teasingly. She didn’t see the point in being coy. She was well beyond that in her life. She allowed one leg to rest gently against Cams trousered thigh. It could have been the press of the crowd that brought her so close, but they both knew it wasn’t.
Cam registered the contact, and the heat of Diane’s body so close to her. If she glanced down she knew she would see the creamy expanse of the woman’s breasts revealed by the low scoop of her black dress. She didn’t look down. She gazed instead past her, to where Blair stood in conversation with a young man who resembled every stereotype of “struggling young artist” she had ever seen, right down to the rumpled tweed jacket and scraggly beard. She kept her eyes on them as she spoke.
“Actually yes. There’s a series of sketches, nud
es, on the far right wall. Charcoal on paper. They’re hers, aren’t they?”
Diane studied her in surprise. She doubted many people had paid the small sketches much attention in the midst of the large oils and other canvasses. But that wasn’t the real reason for her careful answer.
“The artist is Sheila Blake.”
“Uh huh,” Cam replied with a slight smile. “Ms. Blake’s strokes resemble those of Ms. Powell’s, as does the use of light and shadow. Of course, I’m sure the President’s daughter wouldn’t have cause to be doing female nudes. Are they for sale?”
“Yes,” Diane replied, intrigued and immensely attracted.
“And confidential?”
“If the buyer desires. Once the works are consigned to me, the buyer becomes my client.”
“The buyer wishes to remain anonymous,” Cam stated smoothly, shifting her position slightly to keep Blair in sight.
Diane caught her breath as Cams arm unintentionally brushed her breast. She felt her nipple harden painfully, knowing it was visible beneath the shear material of her dress. Was it possible to be this aroused by someone who was practically ignoring you?
“I guarantee it,” she managed, her voice husky.
“Thank you.”
“Need we discuss price,” Diane asked. She was a businesswoman, after all.
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Perhaps you’ll allow me to take you to lunch then, to discuss the details.”
Cam met her gaze fully for the first time, reading the invitation in them. “Lunch would be fine,” she responded. “I’ll call.”
“Yes, please do.”
Chapter Six
“Are you awake?”
“Did you get what I need?”
“More or less—I don’t think this is going to make you very happy.”
Blair sighed as she pulled her robe around herself and stumbled toward the kitchen and her first cup of coffee. “Tell me.”
“She’s not going to be easy to slip away from. Twelve years in the investigative division. Her specialty was tracking Columbian drugs paid for by counterfeit US dollars. Crooks scamming crooks. Apparently she was very good at it.”
Blair watched the coffee drip into the pot, her thoughts swiftly calculating. “Why is she suddenly assigned to protection? What aren’t you telling me?”
“There are substantial holes in the information on her. As a matter of record, she was involved in a multi-jurisdictional snafu last year. The secret service had surveillance units watching a drug factory on the outskirts of DC. Apparently the ATF was involved because they thought the same guys were trafficking guns as well as phony money. Unbeknownst to either Federal agency, the DC narcotics unit had an agent under cover with the drug boys. Somehow the Colombians got wind of it, the narcotics detectives cover was blown, and she was killed in a shoot out. Cameron Roberts was shot trying to warn her off seconds before the whole place went crazy.”
Blair’s stomach tightened. “She was shot?”
“In the thigh. That’s not the whole story though.”
“What is?”
Her caller hesitated. Even friendship had its limits. “Roberts has a sterling reputation, Blair.”
“I don’t intend to sully it,” Blair snapped.
“There are rumors—not many, and no one will commit to knowing anything for sure. She’s well-liked by her colleagues—”
“All right! I get your point. You don’t want to tell me, but you will. Because if you don’t I’ll make sure you’re never an Assistant Director.”
“Blair!”
“I’m kidding, and you should know that, if you don’t after all these years. Tell me who she is, AJ. She’s got control over my life!”
“Deep sources say the narcotics dick who was killed was her lover.”
“Christ!” Blair breathed.
“That may explain the change in assignments. A thing like that can ruin you for field work.”
Blair pictured the clear-eyed, focused woman who had tracked her down at the bar with seeming ease two nights before. None of the other agents had been able to find her once she’d slipped into the shadows. Or at least none had ever dared to.
“I don’t think she’s ruined for anything, AJ. She’s ice.”
“That would fit.”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s one other rumor, buried so deep I’m not even sure it’s her they’re talking about.”
Blair sat on the edge of the stool at her breakfast bar, her coffee forgotten. “What is it?”
“You’ve heard of the very hush hush escort service that operates on the hill?”
“You mean the one that provides all kinds of companions—boys, girls, either or both—for senators, dignitaries, and supposedly my father?”
“I don’t know a thing about your father!”
“It doesn’t matter one way or the other to me. He leaves me alone, that’s all I care about. What’s this got to do with Roberts? Is she trying to shut it down?”
“Might be she’s using it.”
Blair caught her breath, then laughed derisively. “Your sources haven’t seen Cameron Roberts. Believe me, she does not have to pay for sex!!”
“Maybe she wants to.”
“Come again?”
“No strings—no attachment—nothing to lose.”
“I forgot you’re a psychologist,” Blair commented dryly. She finally sipped her coffee. “So what you’re telling me is that my new keeper has no weaknesses I might exploit to make a little breathing room for myself, huh?”
“None that I could find.”
Blair gently replaced the receiver, her annoyance warring with her curiosity. Every one had a secret, and everyone had a weakness—even her. She had just been lucky enough to keep hers hidden all her life. So apparently had Cameron Roberts.
———
At precisely eleven a.m. a knock sounded at the door. Blair answered, knowing whom it was.
“Always punctual, Agent Roberts?” she queried as she turned away, leaving Cam to follow her into the loft. As she walked she caught her wild blond hair back with a headband fashioned from a black bandana. She pushed sweats and other gear into a nondescript gym bag, ignoring Cam as she packed.
“I thought we might go over the plans for the trip to DC, and New Years Eve,” Cam suggested, leaning against the back of the couch.
“What’s to review,” Blair said dismissively. “You’ll escort me to the airport, another hired guard will pick me up at National and deposit me at the White House, where I will play dutiful daughter, pose for a few photos, and celebrate surviving another year.” She glanced at Cam with a shrug. “I’ll tell you when—you be here.”
“I would like to have the itinerary in advance so I can brief my team. Shall we plan on departure at 3pm Wednesday?”
Blair finally faced her fully. “I am in the habit of setting my own schedule.”
“That’s why I’m here,” Cam replied evenly.
“Do you spar, Agent Roberts?” Blair asked suddenly.
“As in hand to hand combat?”
“As in karate?”
Cam hesitated momentarily, at a loss as to where they were headed. Blair Powell did not make casual conversation. “Not exactly. I don’t point spar—I’m a mat stylist. I—”
“Then lets talk about the travel arrangements after we work out. I was just leaving for the gym. You can use some of my gear.”
Cam stared at her. This was not a good idea. She was paid to protect her, not socialize with her. She didn’t care how it might look to others, but she was worried about maintaining a professional distance. Blair was hard enough to handle without adding the confusion of any sort of personal relationship.
Stalling she said, “If you’re going out I need to alert my people—”
Blair grabbed her bag, brushing past Cam. “I’m outta here. You coming or not?”
Cam had no choice. She either went with her or allowed her to l
eave the building alone and hope one of her agents picked her up before Blair lost them in the crowds on the street. She hurried after her, activating her radio as she went.
“Mac, you there?” she whispered urgently.
“Yeah, boss,” Mac answered immediately.
“Egret is flying—get someone downstairs in a car—”
“Roger that—you keeping her company?”
“Affirmative, but I want backup, and make sure everyone is mobile.” She shouldered into the elevator just as the doors began to slide closed. Blair leaned against the rear wall watching her with an amused expression on her face. Cam clicked off the radio, clipped it back on her belt and stared at her. She was more annoyed than angry, but she kept her expression neutral.
“You don’t like it, do you?” Blair stated.
“Like what?” Cam asked evenly.
“Not being in control—not knowing what’s going to happen one moment to the next.”
“If were speaking about my work, you’re right. It’s my job to be in the know—to have control of the situation. That’s what I’m paid to do.”
Blair studied her, unable to read anything in her smooth even features or her calm modulated tones. The elevator doors opened into the foyer and she saw two agents waiting near the door. She shook her head impatiently.
“Tell them to leave us alone,” she said unexpectedly. There was a hint of something desperate in her voice.
“The gym on Seventh Ave?” Cam responded.
“Yes.”
Cam spoke into her radio. “Were walking to Soho. Follow us in the car.”
Cam and Blair stepped out into a brisk clear morning as the two men moved past them into the car that sat idling at the curb. It slowly drifted through traffic behind them as they turned south toward the gym.
Blair glanced at Cam who walked beside her, constantly scanning the street ahead of them and the cars that passed along side.
“Are you really serious about protecting me?” she asked.
“Of course.”
“Why?”
“Because you need it, and because I have been asked to do it.”