by Radclyffe
"Cam?"
Blair stood in the doorway, holding a paper bag with a long slender loaf of bread protruding from it, a shocked expression on her face. Behind her, Bonita stared, her eyes wide, her face pale.
"God, Cam!" Blair cried. "What's wrong?"
Weapon pointed at the ceiling now, Cam moved swiftly to Blair's side. "Step inside, both of you." Once the women were behind her, she turned sideways in the doorway and scanned the courtyard. It was empty. She looked up automatically, but all the windows facing the small, carefully tended common space were empty, nothing more than blank eyes gazing back. She holstered her automatic and closed the door behind her, then turned and met Blair's questioning eyes. "Are you all right?" Her voice was harsh, her gray eyes hard as granite.
"Yes." Blair spoke quietly, seeing with brutal clarity how her absence had been misinterpreted. "I'm sorry. We were only gone a few minutes."
"You should have told me. You should have alerted the team out front." Cam's voice was clipped, her body rigid with the lingering effects of adrenaline and fear. Fear was a sensation she had never before associated with her work. But Blair was her lover, not just her responsibility. If anything happened to you...
"We just went for a walk." Blair's heart ached to see the cold expression on her lover's face, devoid of tenderness and filled with fury. Fury, and something else she couldn't quite decipher.
"Alone. Alone, Blair. Unprotected."
"Cameron," Bonita said gently, seeing what Blair could not, "Blair's fine."
Cam spun toward her, her dark eyes snapping. "That's not the point!"
In a voice that sounded eerily like Marcea's, Bonita replied softly, "Isn't it?"
The gentle tone, the even gentler hint of a reprimand, instantly dissolved Cam's anger. She sighed and nodded, the tension suddenly replaced by weariness. "Yes." She looked from Bonita to her lover.
"That's all that matters."
"I'm sorry," Blair said softly again. "I thought—"
"No." Cam crossed to Blair and slipped her hand beneath the hair at the back of Blair's neck, caressing her tenderly. "I'm sorry."
As Bonita slipped from the room, Blair rested her cheek against Cam's shoulder and wrapped both arms around her waist. The automatic weapon in the shoulder holster against Cam's left side pressed against her breast, a harsh reminder of the complex boundaries that defined their relationship. "I meant to be back before you woke up. God, Cam, I didn't think about what would happen if you woke up before I got back."
"I can't believe I didn't feel you leave the bed—again." Eyes closed, Cam rested her cheek against Blair's hair, one hand stroking up and down her back. "That's completely unlike me."
"I love that you were still asleep when I left. I so rarely have the opportunity to see you like that." Blair pressed her lips to Cam's throat, whispered a kiss against her skin. "I liked to imagine it was our lovemaking that made you sleep so deeply."
"It did." Cam kissed Blair's temple. "When we make love, it always relaxes me." At Blair's short laugh, she added quickly, "Well, after it's over at least."
"Oh, darling." Blair tilted her chin and kissed the underside of Cam's jaw. "I never meant for you to worry."
"I know." Cam dipped her head and brought her lips to her lover's. The heat of Blair's mouth and the beat of her heart against Cam's chest helped to right her world. Blair was safe. "You didn't do anything wrong, Blair. It's not wrong to want to live like the rest of the world."
"Just not wise." There was sadness as well as resignation in Blair's voice.
"No. But I have no complaints." Cam caressed Blair's cheek, drawing her fingers slowly down Blair's neck. "I know how difficult it is for you to accept being guarded twenty-four hours a day, and I know that you've been trying. I appreciate it."
Blair shook her head. "God, Cameron. Don't thank me for being responsible. Not when you and the others put your lives on the line for me."
"That's not what this is about. This is about keeping you safe—" she pressed her fingers to Blair's lips to still the protest that she knew was coming. "And not just because you matter in some theoretical way. But because you, Blair Powell, are a special woman." She moved her fingers and kissed her lover's mouth again. "And I, among others, love you."
"You're the only one who matters," Blair murmured and she lifted a hand to Cam's neck, threaded her fingers into Cam's hair, and took the kiss deeper.
Cam groaned as Blair's tongue slid into her mouth and took possession. She was helpless when Blair touched her. Helpless when Blair smiled at her. Helpless just looking at her. Helplessly, hopelessly in love. The enormity of her need struck deep in the core of her, igniting her passion as well as her terror at how easily she could lose everything, and she trembled.
Blair felt Cam shiver and held her closer. She moved her mouth away, pressing herself tightly to her lover. "It's all right. I'm here, and I always will be."
Eyes closed, Cam nodded and fought for control. As her mind cleared and she banished the memories of loss, she laughed shakily. "You undo me."
"You seem to tilt my world too, Commander." Blair stroked her fingers through Cam's hair, tenderly now. "I have never before apologized to my security chief for breaking rank."
"I have an unfair advantage." Cam grinned. "You probably weren't sleeping with any of them."
"Mmm. Probably not." Blair's eyes danced when she saw her lover's spark. "Never wanted to—although there was this one state trooper..."
"Blair," Cam growled.
"All right." Blair laughed and patted Cam's cheek. "I won't tease you until after coffee."
"I need to advise the team that you're here."
Instantly, Blair's expression became serious. "Of course. Can we stay for breakfast with Bonita?"
"Blair, please," Cam said gently. "You don't need anyone's permission for something like that. I just need to know your plans so that I can do what needs to be done."
"I know. What I meant to say was, how do you feel about having breakfast with Bonita?"
Cam smiled. "I'd love that." She trailed her fingers over Blair's cheek and then kissed her lightly one more time. "I'll be right back."
On her return from advising Davis of the all clear, Cam came upon Bonita in the sitting room. "I'm sorry for frightening you earlier. Would we be overstaying our welcome if we had that breakfast you and Blair had planned?"
"That would be wonderful." Bonita rose from the sofa and linked her arm with Cam's. "Is everything all right now?"
"Yes. And.. .thank you, for helping me see what really mattered this morning."
"You're much too hard on yourself, Cameron. It's a difficult path that you've chosen to walk, loving her and protecting her at the same time."
"Aren't they always one and the same?"
"Of course, but in your case, the two are more at odds than they normally are." Bonita smiled as they began to walk. "If I were Blair and you were my lover, I would feel very well taken care of."
"Thank you," Cam said softly.
"You must try to let her take care of you, also. A lover needs that."
Cam stopped in the hallway just outside the kitchen and regarded Bonita with a raised eyebrow. "Have you and my mother been conspiring?"
Bonita laughed with delight. "When two people have been friends for as long as your mother and I, and have watched someone like you grow up, it's impossible for either of us not to mother."
"Like me?" Cam repeated, genuinely confused.
"Responsible and dedicated." Bonita patted Cam's cheek. "And so charmingly valiant."
Cam blushed. "I...thank you, Bonita."
"Come. Let's have our coffee and enjoy one another."
As they stepped into the kitchen and Cam's eyes met Blair's, she smiled. "Yes. Let's do that."
In Florida, in a domed, aluminum-sided hangar nearly the size of a football field, a man sat behind the controls of a flight simulator and practiced landing a jumbo jet He had been enrolled in the flight school for six weeks
and had very nearly perfected the techniques needed to alter the in-flight directional patterns of the huge aircraft. When the time came for him to put his new skills to the test, he knew that he would not fail. He had spent the last six years of his life planning for the grand moment that was soon to come. When he was called upon, he would be ready to play his part in the greatest holy war ever waged. Smiling, he reset the simulator to reflect the control panels of a commercial airliner cruising at 30,000 feet and continued to train for his mission.
Renee leaned on an elbow, her chin propped in her palm, and gazed at her hand resting in the center of Stark's abdomen. Her own coffee-colored skin stood out boldly against Stark's naturally pale complexion. The contrast reminded her of how different they were. Stark was so steady, so solid, so willing to give of herself.
And me? What am I, really? Not as trusting as I used to be, if I ever really was. When did I stop believing in someone like you? When did I stop dreaming?
Stark shifted and her lids fluttered. The twitch of muscles beneath Renee's fingers ignited an answering tremor in her depths. She remembered the way Stark had felt inside of her, taking her so effortlessly—knowing instinctively what she needed and giving her such sweet pleasure.
You were so good. So very good. And I fell asleep on you, didn't I, sweetie?
Need rose within her, tight and urgent. But as fiercely as the arousal gripped her, her touch remained gentle. Watching Stark's face, she stroked her abdomen, slowing when Stark murmured restlessly, then resuming when she quieted, moving lower with each tender caress. Touching her, recalling Stark's hands, she grew instantly wet. She caught her lower lip between her teeth, determined to ignore the sudden pounding between her legs. Cautiously, she inched down on the bed, smoothing her fingers along the inside of Stark's thigh.
She could feel the heat in Stark's skin, and the answering flames within her own yearning flesh soared. All thought fled. Only sensation remained. The rich scent of their desire, the satin-smooth skin slick beneath her fingertips, the soft sigh of Stark's breath in counterpoint to Renee's ragged gasps. Resting her breasts against Stark's thigh, she lowered her head and placed a single, careful kiss between Stark's legs.
"Renee," Stark said hoarsely, resting her hand on the back of Renee's head. She'd opened her eyes and nearly cried out with the sweet pleasure of Renee's mouth against her clitoris. "God. Oh... jeez."
Never moving her head, Renee reached up with one arm and placed her palm between Stark's breasts, holding her gently but firmly in place. "Don't move. Just feel."
At the words, Stark's hips twitched and her legs tightened. Her fingers trembled in Renee's hair. "Could you...do that again?"
"Mmm. I was planning to." Renee closed her eyes tightly against another surge of arousal. She was in danger of giving in to the insistent pulse of her own desire when she wanted so very much to please Stark this time. Careful to keep her body from brushing Stark's, uncertain that she could avoid the temptation to assuage her need with a few well-placed thrusts, she shifted until she lay between Stark's legs. Wrapping both arms around her lover's thighs, she glanced up to find Stark's eyes, wide and slightly glazed, upon her face. "Good morning."
Stark swallowed and traced her fingers over Renee's cheek. Her voice was a weak whisper, but her smile was brilliant. "The best."
Renee couldn't wait any longer. She needed to give; she needed to take; she needed to lose herself in the sweet ecstasy of her lover's excitement. She used her lips and mouth lightly at first, alternating kisses with languid strokes of her tongue. Each fleeting touch wrenched a small sound of pleasure from Stark's throat that struck hard in her own center. By the time Stark's clitoris had hardened with an approaching climax, she was about to explode herself. Still, she fought back the waves of release trembling in the pit of her stomach and teased Stark's passion to bursting in her mouth.
"Renee," Stark cried out in shocked surprise. "You're making me come."
The sound of Stark's pleasure and the pulse of her orgasm against Renee's lips brought an ache so sharp to her own flesh that she reached automatically to soothe it. At the first brush of her fingertips against her clitoris, she came.
Groaning with the spasms twisting through her depths, Renee caressed Stark with soft kisses and softer strokes of her tongue until the last pulsations dwindled away. Breathing heavily, she managed to move up the bed before collapsing on her side with one arm around Stark's waist. "God. God, you're so gorgeous."
Stunned, Stark pressed her cheek to Renee's breast and clung to her. "I can't... I feel...oh, Renee."
Laughing quietly, her heart feeling lighter than she could ever recall, Renee brushed her lips over Stark's forehead. "Good, right? You feel good?"
Stark leaned her head back, laughing too, and finally managed to focus on the beautiful face gazing at her with such tenderness that she wanted to weep. "No. Not good. Fabulous." Renee's lips lifted into a satisfied smile. "Me too." "We don't have to get up just yet, do we?" Stark nuzzled Renee's breast and drew the already taut nipple into her mouth. She smiled at Renee's quick gasp.
"Oh, sweetie...not if you're going to keep doing that."
"I was planning to."
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
C am stood in a ballroom with a vaulted cathedral ceiling, centuries-old works of art lining the walls and adorning marble pedestals and a symphony orchestra playing in the background. The atmosphere was lush and elegant, the room filled with diplomats and all manner of European aristocracy. She saw everything, and yet, in a very real way, nothing at all. The key to effective surveillance was to train oneself to be aware of the gestalt, but not to lose oneself in the details. She had seen everyone in the room at least once, noting the particulars of their mannerism and dress—not because she was interested in them, but because she needed to discount them. As each individual was evaluated and deemed nonthreatening, they became as indistinct to her as cardboard cutouts, featureless shapes moving across her field of vision but making no particular impression. That night, as always, one woman stood out in sharp relief against the background of gray.
Blair had put her hair up for the formal affair, somehow taming her wild curls into an elegant twist held in place with a delicate comb that glinted with a hint of diamonds. Her strapless black evening gown dipped low between her breasts and revealed a tantalizing whisper of thigh as she moved. A diamond choker rested in the hollow at the base of her throat. Despite Cam's peripheral awareness of the other people in the room, Blair was the focus of her attention. Anyone who moved near her, spoke to her, or even appeared to be watching her for an unusual length of time garnered Cam's intent inspection. At the moment, she was watching her lover dance in the arms of a handsome, dark-haired man she recognized as France's minister of defense. His palm rested in the middle of Blair's back, against her skin, which was exposed by the gown's low-cut back. Nothing showed on Cam's face as she watched his hand move in an indolent caress.
Across the room, Mac systematically swept the huge space, pausing briefly at each exit to take note of who stood there— someone lingering near a doorway could easily be a lookout or a triggerman. He saw only the gently milling mass of suave men and beautifully adorned women. He also saw his colleagues—the six who were in the room. There were four additional agents on perimeter duty outside. His gaze halted on his chief as he followed her line of sight to Egret. From fifty feet away, he could see her dark eyes smoldering. Someone who didn't know her wouldn't notice her tension or her fury, but he had grown used to deciphering her state of mind by reading her body language and the message in her eyes. He had learned that she never voluntarily gave any indication of her feelings. Not for the first time, he was glad not to be in her shoes. He didn't shrink from the responsibility, and, in fact, was proud that he was usually the commander's first choice for team leader when she was off duty or otherwise unavailable. He did not, however, envy her, knowing that she was often forced to behave as if she had no personal relationship whatsoever with Egret. Whi
le never doubting that she could carry out her responsibilities in terms of Egret's security, he couldn't even guess at how much that restraint cost her emotionally.
"You're monopolizing Ms. Powell, Claude," a rich contralto voice complained playfully. A dark-haired, dark-eyed woman wearing a deep burgundy dress took Blair's arm and with a sly smile drew her away from the obviously displeased man. "How are you, darling?"
"I'm eternally grateful for the rescue," Blair murmured as she smiled and nodded to several individuals who greeted her as she walked slowly to the edge of the dance floor with her companion. "I was running out of polite conversation."
The woman, twenty years Blair's senior but still sensuously beautiful, tilted her head and laughed. "I'm surprised you lasted as long as you did. In the past, you would have sent him running with his tail between his legs in a matter of minutes."
"I was practicing diplomacy."
"You never saw the need for that before, as I recall." She drew Blair closer, brushing her breast against Blair's arm as she did so. When she felt no response from Blair, she laughed again. "You've changed."
Blair looked over to where she had last seen Cam and smiled softly as her eyes met her lover's, "Yes. I have."
"Ah..." Her companion followed Blair's gaze. In a voice verging on a purr, she said, "There's something about a long, tight body in a tuxedo that always makes me wet."
"Then I see you haven't changed, at least."
"She's the one all the fuss is about, I take it."
They stopped by a large marble pillar out of the stream of activity. Blair had a headache from making polite conversation with too many people for too many hours. All she wanted to do was shed her clothes, put her feet up, and enjoy a few quiet minutes with Cam. She sighed, seeing no point in denying what everyone was aware of.
"Yes."
The press had been waiting once again when she'd arrived at the presidential palace. They'd shouted variations on the same questions that they had bombarded her with the day before, and she once again made no comment. Although none of the guests mentioned the news articles, she had been aware of a few pointed stares during the evening.