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.

"Is she anywhere near as good as she looks?" the woman asked.

Unoffended, Blair nevertheless ignored the question. "I'm going to make my way over to the president and his wife and pay my respects. I have an early-morning flight back to the States tomorrow, and I'm tired."

The dark-haired woman slid her arm around Blair's waist and leaned against her, her thigh pressing into Blair's hip. "We could slip away to my apartment for an hour or two. Remember how much fun that used to be?"

Blair couldn't. All she could remember was the empty pleasure of stealing a few hours of freedom that never truly felt free, and the moments of physical satisfaction that were even less gratifying. "I don't think so. Thanks."

"You can't mean to tell me that you're serious about this woman? An affair is one thing, but—really, Blair. Even if you don't care about the politics, it's social suicide."

"You know that's never mattered to me," Blair said quietly.

"I know that you always pretended that it didn't," her companion countered. "That's one of the many things I found so exciting about you. But you're young yet, and something like this could haunt you forever."

"You're absolutely right." A smile flickered across Blair's face. "Which is why I have absolutely no intention of letting her go."

The beautiful woman leaned close and kissed Blair lightly on the lips. "I'll miss those special moments with you, darling."

"Take care," Blair whispered before she slipped away.

Blair had crossed only a small part of the room when Cam appeared at her side. She slowed and smiled at her lover. "Hello."

"Ms. Powell," Cam replied quietly. She was close enough to touch her, but she did not.

"I'm ready to go home."

With a casual gesture that might have been interpreted as merely a brush of her hand through her hair, Cam murmured into the minuscule communicator on the undersurface of her left wrist, "Stark, bring the vehicle to the west entrance."

"I want to really go home," Blair said with a sigh.

"Yes," Cam admitted, allowing a rare break in her professional facade. "So do I."

"Come with me while I make my goodbyes."

"Of course. I'll be nearby."

"No," Blair murmured softly, curling her fingers around Cam's forearm and drawing her a step closer. "Accompany me."

Surprised, Cam stiffened. "Blair, I don—"

"Please."

The word was uttered softly, one lover to another, and Cam could not refuse. "It would be my pleasure."

As they approached the French president and his wife at the center of a small gathering of dignitaries, Cam scanned the crowd and took note of Mac on the left side of the room and Rogers on the right keeping pace with them. Assured that the appropriate surveillance was in place while her attention was diverted, she relaxed enough to appreciate how at ease Blair appeared in the midst of such exalted company. At the moment, Blair was thanking the French president and his wife for their gracious hospitality and commenting on how much she had enjoyed the evening. A few more polite words were exchanged, and then Blair smiled up at Cam. "May I introduce my escort, Cameron Roberts."

In French, Cam replied that it was an honor to meet them and a pleasure to be in Paris again. When the president's wife suggested that they return when Blair was not obligated by official duties, "to truly appreciate the beauty of Paris," Cam smiled warmly and said that she definitely hoped they would have that opportunity soon.

After the usual pleasantries, Blair and Cam turned to leave.

"I think she was flirting with you," Blair said under her breath.

Cam barely managed to stifle a laugh. "She most certainly was not."

"You're so damn charming, you're dangerous."

"As long as you think so, Ms. Powell."

Before Blair could reply, Cam eased away several steps. The few minutes between leaving the building and securing Blair in the vehicle were critical, and she needed to focus. Stark appeared with Blair's wrap and handed it to her.

"Here you are, Ms. Powell. The car is waiting at the curb."

"Thank you." Blair sensed several other people move close to her and knew that Mac and Rogers had just completed the circle behind her. With Cam slightly ahead and to her left, going through the door first as she always did, Blair stepped outside. Instantly, a bright light flashed in her eyes. As she blinked furiously to clear her vision, she was aware of a dark shape looming to her right. She cried out, more in surprise then fear, as Stark grasped her around the waist and pushed her back several steps while shielding her from the intruder with her body. At the same time, Blair saw Cam hurtling toward the shape, which she now recognized as a heavyset man in a dark cap and shapeless jacket. He held something in his hand.

The interloper came out of the shadows so quickly that he was within three feet of Blair before Cam saw him. When she did, all she registered was the speed of his approach and the fact that he held something in the hand that was extended toward Blair. Gun. Her reaction was automatic. She pivoted into him, bent her knees to lower her center of gravity, and shoved her shoulder into his chest. She clamped his leading arm—the one holding the weapon— between her fists, pulled him off balance, and threw him over her body onto his back. He landed with a grunt as the air was driven from his lungs by the force of his unchecked fall. Immediately, Cam planted her knee in the center of his chest and levered his arm into an elbow lock. With the slightest bit of pressure, she could break his arm. Without even looking up, she ordered sharply, "Get her back to the hotel."

Less than twenty seconds later, Blair was in the back of the Peugeot with Stark beside her and Mac at the wheel. With a screech of tires, they merged into traffic.

"Are you all right?" Stark asked quietly. Although she was breathing rapidly, her voice was completely calm.

"Yes." Blair looked back through the rear window, but she could see nothing. "What was that about, do you think?"

"Probably paparazzi or an autograph hound." Stark eased her weapon, which she had held by her side out of Blair's line of vision, back into her hip holster. Or something worse, considering the commander's reaction.

Blair sighed. "How long do you think Cam will be?"

Stark shifted uncomfortably. "I couldn't say."

"No," Blair murmured, closing her eyes as she wondered when she would see Cam again. "There's no way to know, is there?"

Renee rolled over and picked up the receiver on the second ring. "Hello?"

"Did I wake you?"

Smiling, she stretched out beneath the covers, enjoying the brush of cotton across her naked skin. "Well, I was having a very nice dream about a particularly sexy Secret Service agent..."

"I'm sorry."

"I don't mind."

"What are you wearing?"

Laughing in delight, Renee replied, "Why don't you come see for yourself?"

"All right."

Renee's stomach tightened with a jolt of anticipation. "Are you off shift now?"

"Uh-huh."

"How soon can you be here?"

Stark hesitated. "Two minutes too long?"

Oh, you are full of surprises, aren't you? When she spoke again, Renee's voice was throaty and warm. "Make it one."

"Roger that."

Renee threw back the sheet and stood as she hung up the receiver, reaching with her free hand for the robe that she had left lying across the foot of the bed. She shrugged into it on the way to the door, holding it closed with one hand, not bothering to tie it. When a knock sounded, she glanced through the peephole and hurriedly opened the door.

"Hi," Stark said as she slipped inside. She'd taken the time to change into a T-shirt and jeans.

Letting the robe fall open, Renee stepped forward and wrapped both arms around Stark's shoulders, pressing close, "Hi," she murmured as she brought her mouth to Stark's.

"Uh..." Stark's heart jumped into hyperdrive when she saw the quicksilver flash of moonlight on skin and then came to a complete standstill when she felt Renee's body mold to hers. She put her back to the door for support as she drew both hands up the back of Renee's thighs beneath the silk to cup her buttocks. When she automatically lifted her hips, Renee thrust back, and they both groaned. She closed her eyes, surrendering to all that was Renee. The ambrosial scent of desire filled her mind as a warm tongue filled her mouth and the flames within her danced high.

"Renee," Stark murmured when she felt fingers working at her fly. "If you touch me, I'll fall down."

"Mmm, I want to make you melt."

"Done," Stark gasped as fingertips brushed down her belly. Her legs shook and threatened to fold. "It's our last night in Paris. I want to spend it making love with you."

With effort, Renee stopped her downward quest and hooked her fingers around the waistband of Stark's jeans. "How long do I have you?"

As long as you want. Forever. Stark circled her hand at the base of Renee's spine, holding her close. "0500."

A little more than three hours. And then we'll be on separate planes, going home to...what?

"Then let's get started," Renee murmured as she tugged her lover toward the bed.

"Commander?"

Cam turned at the sound of Mac's voice, leaning her hip against the waist-high railing of the balcony. "All quiet?"

Nodding, he joined her. "I didn't see you come back."

"Just got here."

He waited, knowing that she would tell him what she felt he needed to know. He wanted to ask about the shadows in her eyes that even the cover of darkness could not hide. But he didn't, because it would be an intrusion and because their relationship stopped somewhere short of friendship. The bond between them was professional, it was respectful, and it was one he would give his life for, but they had never invited each other into their hearts.

"What's the number one priority in your life, Mac?"

His surprise did not prevent him from answering immediately. "Egret's welfare."

Cam nodded. "Good. Because I don't want you worrying about your career if you find you have to tell me or someone else that you think I'm fucking up."

"You have my word on it."

"Thank you."

Simultaneously, they both turned and placed their hands on top of the iron balustrade that enclosed the balcony and looked toward the Arc de Triomphe a few blocks away. The fabric of their nearly identical tuxedo jackets brushed where their shoulders touched.

"I haven't noted any problems, Commander." He did not look at her when he spoke, but idly watched the stream of headlights flicker along the Champs Elysees.

"I took her to an unsecured location last night with the bare minimum of a team, and I didn't even have the foresight to check the perimeter myself. If someone had wanted her, I'm not sure we could have protected her."

What she had admitted to him would have been grounds for her dismissal if she'd confessed it to anyone else. That she trusted him with her concerns pleased him almost more than anything else in his career ever had. "Other than yesterday right after the press release in the States, we've only been on mid-level alert status. There hasn't been any suggestion of increased hostile activity in this area or undue attention directed toward Egret. There's been no reason to suspect she's at risk."

"It was sloppy," Cam muttered angrily. "I was so busy thinking of her..."