Something of what she was feeling must have shown in her face, because the president's expression softened and sympathy flickered in his eyes. "They'll take good care of her here. Plus, it will take more than this to knock Blair down."

Cam smiled faintly. "I know. She's amazing."

The president nodded. "Yes, she is."

With her coffee growing cold in a cup on the end table, Cam paced in front of the window in a private waiting room while the president sat on a sofa in the far corner talking on the phone. His security agents flanked the door. Cam had stationed Felicia and Stark in the recovery room where Blair would be taken after her surgery. She glanced at her watch for the tenth time. 0725.

She tried to visualize what was happening to Blair while she stood powerless to help. Hospitals were such cold, impersonal places. She remembered what it had been like when she'd been shot the last time. The lights in the ICU were so bright and the muffled voices so confusing and the disorientation so frightening. And the pain. Jesus, the pain. "I just don't want her to hurt."

"The biopsy shouldn't be too bad," Andrew Powell said quietly.

Jerking in surprise at the sound of his voice, Cam met his eyes. "Sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you."

"You didn't." He set his papers aside and joined her at the window. "She'll be sore for a few days, but I doubt it will bother her much."

Cam stared at the expanse of green lawns visible through the window, thinking that she was only experiencing a fraction of the anxiety and anguish this man had endured when the woman he loved had gone through something far worse. "I hate not knowing what to do to help her."

"Yes," the president said quietly. "I know."

They stood silently a moment longer until the president's phone rang again, and he turned away with a brief pat on Cam's shoulder.

At 7:50 a.m., Dr. Saunders appeared. The president hastily concluded his phone call and stood. The surgeon looked first at Cam and then at the president.

"Ms. Powell is fine. She's in the recovery room and resting comfortably."

Cam and Andrew Powell both spoke at once.

"What about—"

"Did you—"

The president motioned to Cam. "Go ahead."

"Can you tell anything yet?" Cam's heart was racing and her throat was dry. Even in the midst of a crisis, her heart rate never rose above sixty. Now it felt like it was going to beat out of her chest.

"Nothing definitive," the surgeon said apologetically. "We really can't tell anything without a thorough pathologic examination, but I will say that the lesion was small, and I'm quite sure I removed it all. There was a small lymph node in the area that I removed as well. That appeared perfectly normal."

"How long until the pathology report is available?" the president asked.

"I put a rush on it, sir. Sometime tomorrow."

"Can we see her?" Cam asked.

"Yes. She's been sedated, but I'm sure she'll be happy to see you both."

Cam extended her hand. "Thank you."

Dr. Saunders smiled. "Of course." She turned to the president and saluted. "Sir."

"Thank you, Colonel," the president replied as he returned her salute.

"Hey," Blair said thickly, blinking to focus her eyes. "You guys still here?"

"Yes," Cam murmured as she leaned down to kiss her lover's forehead. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine. Hurts a little but..I've taken worse hits than this...in the ring." With effort, she turned her head and regarded her father. "You okay?"

"Just fine, honey. I have a meeting scheduled so I need to leave in a minute. The doctor says you did great."

"I can't...remember anything." Blair frowned. "Damn drugs."

Cam grinned. "Why don't you close your eyes and get some sleep."

"Does she...know anything yet?" Blair struggled to clear her head and failed. "Hate...the waiting."

"I know, baby," Cam murmured soothingly, reaching over the rail to stroke Blair's hair. "We'll know soon. And then we'll take care of it."

"You sure?"

"I promise," Cam said fiercely. She continued to stroke Blair's cheek as her lover's eyelids fluttered closed. Once she was certain Blair was asleep, Cam straightened and found the president's gaze fixed intently upon her. "We'll be at my apartment tonight, sir. I'll call you with an update, if that's all right with you."

"That sounds fine. I can see that she'll be in good hands."

"Thank you, sir."

He shook his head, saying quietly, "No, Cam. Thank you."

Alone, Cam pulled a chair over and settled down to wait. Stark and Davis stood at the door, quietly keeping guard.

"I feel fine, and I'm sick of lying in bed."

Cam had never heard Blair sound petulant before, and she found it rather endearing. However, she hid her smile, preferring not to incite her reluctant patient any further. "How about if we just have our pizza in bed while we watch a movie? You don't have to sleep."

Blair regarded her lover suspiciously. Her breast ached, her head felt fuzzy, and Cam had been so sweet all afternoon, it was making her cranky. She didn't like being taken care of—well, maybe she did, a little. And that was annoying her, too. "What kind?"

"Cheese."

"No pepperoni?"

"Ah—I thought that might be a bit much after the anesthesia and all." Cam eased onto the bed and settled her hand on Blair's thigh. In a husky voice, she murmured, "I got The Mummy Returns, "

"Letterbox?"

"Uh-huh."

Carefully, Blair shifted over to make room on the pillows piled at the head of the bed. "Okay. Cheese sounds good."

"Want a pain pill?"

"No."

"Maybe after you eat?"

Blair started to protest, but caught a glimpse of the worry in Cam's eyes. She covered Cam's hand with her own and squeezed gently. "I will if I need it. Promise."

"Deal. I'll get some paper plates and more soda."

Halfway through the mummy's rampage through London, Blair fell asleep. Cam rose gingerly, gathered up the leftovers, and carried the lot to the kitchen. Her head throbbed, and yet she didn't feel tired. Now that Blair was home, and safe, the last few days felt more and more like a bad dream. It was hard to believe that there could be anything wrong with Blair, let alone something life-threatening. Still, Cam knew it wasn't quite over yet. And the waiting was pure torture.

Leaning against the counter, she rubbed her hands over her face in a vain attempt to chase away the headache and settle her nerves. Then, abruptly, she reached for the phone and punched in a number.

"Mother? There's something I want to talk to you about."

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

25 August 2001

B lair sat curled up in the corner of the couch, a pillow behind her back and a blanket over her knees. She sketched on a pad that lay in her lap, her eyes drifting between the paper and the woman who sat across from her at a small table by the windows. Cam wore a faded; nearly threadbare work shirt and red boxers. Only two buttons just below her breasts held the shirt closed. Her dark hair was unruly and her profile pale and remote, as if chiseled from stone.

"You have a face to make an artist weep," Blair muttered as she drew rapidly.

"Huh?" Cam glanced up and turned in Blair's direction. "Need something?"

A slow, suggestive smile lit Blair's face. "Maybe."

"Feeling better?" Cam grinned back, one brow arching. She was glad that Blair seemed able to lose herself in her work, because all she had wanted to do since wakening was call the doctor to ask if the pathology report was finished. She hadn't, knowing that as soon as Dr. Saunders had any information, she would contact Blair. One did not keep the first daughter in the dark about something like that any longer than necessary.

"Just fine." Blair indicated the empty space on the other end of the sofa. "Except I'm kind of lonely."

Cam set the newspaper aside and crossed the room to join her lover. Once seated, she drew one leg up on the cushion and extended her arm along the back, facing Blair. Her bare foot just brushed the bottom of the blanket draped over Blair's bent knees. "Are you going to be all right for the show in terms of finishing everything up?"

"Mmm," Blair replied absently, flipping to a fresh page on her sketchpad. "I might not finish one or two...depending on...how long we stay here. But even without them, I should be okay." She looked up, meeting Cam's eyes. "Would you mind unbuttoning your shirt?"

"All right," Cam replied slowly, her tone pitched low. Moving nothing except her hand, she loosed the two buttons and allowed her shirt to fall open between her breasts. "Good enough?"

"For the moment."

They were silent as Blair's hand moved in sure, swift strokes over the surface of the paper, her blue eyes, dark with purpose, flicking back and forth between her lover and her art.

"Shrug it off your left shoulder just a bit, so your breast is exposed," Blair requested without looking up.

Again, being careful not to move the rest of her body, Cam pushed her shirt aside so that part of her chest was bared. The room was warm, yet her nipple contracted not from the touch of the air against it, but from the sweep of Blair's eyes over her skin. As a child, she'd sat in on classes her mother taught using nude models. When older, she'd posed nude as well. Neither experience had felt sexual, and she had learned to love the human form in a purely aesthetic way as a result.

She'd known that posing for Blair would be different, but she hadn't anticipated just how much. Despite the fact that she knew Blair saw her body now only in the context of light and shadow, texture and line, angle and curve, being the object of Blair's intense focus stirred her nonetheless. Her pulse jumped, her skin tingled, and, despite herself, arousal fluttered in the pit of her stomach. She worked to keep her breathing even.

"Doing okay?" Blair murmured, her eyes on her sketch pad as she turned to another page.

"Yes."

"Can you slip off your boxers and then return to the same position."

"Sure." Cam's voice was husky.

Blair seemed not to notice as she switched from pencil to charcoal. Head bent, she sketched effortlessly, concentrating on the curve of Cam's breast against the long line of her arm in one view, drawing the angles and contours of her profile in the next. Suddenly she raised her head. "Now the shirt."

Wordlessly, Cam obeyed.

As Blair prepared to start a new sketch, she paused to let her eyes travel from Cam's face down the column of her neck and over her chest to the long plane of her abdomen. One lean leg angled over the edge of the sofa to the floor, while the other was bent at the knee and extended along the seat toward Blair. There was only a shadow of the dark triangle between her thighs.

"I've sketched women in the nude before," Blair remarked quietly, her gaze returning to Cam's face.

"I know," Cam said, her thighs tightening. "I've posed before, too."

"I've never become sexually aroused while I was doing it." Blair's hand rested on the surface of the paper, immobile.

Cam swallowed around the sudden need in her throat. "Neither have I."

"I am now." Blair's breath caught as she saw the flush of excitement rise on her lover's chest.

"Me, too."

"You are so beautiful," Blair whispered.

"No," Cam said quickly when Blair moved to put down her charcoal and pad. "We can't."

Blair's eyes flashed with frustration, but she nodded. Just the action of leaning over had sent a twinge of pain shooting through her breast, reminding her of the recent surgery. She sighed, carefully placing the articles on the coffee table beside her. "I've lost my concentration."

"Should I get dressed?"

"I don't know," Blair said suggestively, poking a leg out from beneath the blanket and rubbing her foot up the inside of Cam's thigh. "How adventurous do you feel?"

Laughing, Cam grabbed Blair's ankle before the questing foot could reach higher. "Right this minute, I'm on simmer. Touch me there, and I'm going to get uncomfortably warm."

"I wouldn't mind watching you put the fire out."

Shaking her head, Cam reached for her shirt, which she had dropped on the floor. "I don't trust you to just watch."

"I've been known to show restraint at times," Blair protested, "even though I seem to have little where you're concerned."

Standing to step into her boxers, Cam gave Blair a sidelong glance. "Let's test your restraint some other time, when it won't matter if you weaken."