Cam caught her hand and their fingers immediately entwined. "I don't believe there's any law against you tucking me in."

"That could be a dangerous suggestion, Commander," Blair replied, her voice husky.

"I'll risk it."

Cam lead the way partway down the hall and opened the door to the second guest room. As Blair waited in the darkness just inside, Cam crossed to the bathroom, switched on the light, and pulled the door closed until only a thin shaft of light illuminated the bedroom. It was enough for them to navigate between the dresser, an upholstered chair next to a reading lamp, and the bed. With a sigh, she shrugged out of her jacket and tossed it over the back of the chair. She released the clasp on the right side of her shoulder harness and with a practiced motion slid it down her arms and off. By that time, Blair had crossed the space between them and stood a few inches in front of her.

"Let me do the rest."

"Now that's a dangerous suggestion," Cam murmured. She stood still as Blair's deft fingers unbuttoned her shirt and drew the narrow black belt from her trousers. Obediently, she lifted her arms as her lover stripped the shirt from her and dropped it onto the chair with her jacket. As she reached out, intending to place her arms around Blair's waist, Blair stepped back out of reach.

"Hey," Cam protested, surprised.

"Cam, don't," Blair said, her voice oddly still. "I'm not that strong."

"Blair..."

"I mean it. You need to get some rest. And if you touch me, I'm going to forget that." She stepped forward again. "Now stand still."

With practiced efficiency, she unzipped Cam's pants and worked them down along with her briefs over her hips in one motion.

Cam kicked out of her loafers and stepped free of her clothing.

"Now what," Cam asked thickly, her heart thudding just from the unintentional flicker of Blair's fingers over her skin.

"Now, you get into bed," Blair replied, her voice just as thick.

Reluctantly, Cam complied and couldn't quite prevent her sigh of exhaustion as she stretched out under the sheet. Blair leaned down, kissed her chastely, and ran her fingers through Cam's thick dark hair. «Ill see you tomorrow."

As she turned to go, Cam's lids were already fluttering closed. Just as Blair reached for the door knob, she heard the deep voice float to her on the night air. "I love you."

"I love you," she whispered.

Then she let herself out and crossed the hall to her own bed, knowing it would be a long time before she slept.



Chapter Nine

At 9:20 the next morning, Cam rolled over and opened her eyes.

Sunlight streaked through the window on the left side of the room and for a moment, she lay still, listening for sound in the house. It was very quiet. She briefly considered crossing the hall to Blair's room and perhaps finding her there alone. Much of her fatigue had been assuaged by six hours of solid sleep. The headache was a very distant echo, and for the time being, of no consequence. What was much more disruptive was the persistent pulse of desire that had not abated during the night.

Great idea-sex in your mother's house with your team members outside the door.The thought of either one should cool your fire.

It didn't. Instead she recalled the way Blair had looked in the half light of the bar, sleek and taut and dangerous. Then in the moonlight on the beach, her face had softened, but the hunger still burned in her eyes. Cam remembered, too, how ready she had been to be devoured.

Time to douse the coals before I go up in flames.

Smiling to herself, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, stood, and stretched. Naked, she walked to the bathroom, turned on the shower, and waited for the water temperature to equilibrate. She showered and dressed with her usual efficiency, noting that she'd have to buy clothes before the gallery opening that evening. It was one thing to travel light, but she wasn't certain how long Blair planned to stay in San Francisco, and if it were any longer than another twenty-four hours, she'd run out of things to wear.

As it was, she pulled on chinos and a black polo shirt, which for her was unusually casual for a workday. Once again, she slid the slim body-contouring holster on the inside of the trousers and went downstairs to check in with her team.

The dining room and living room were empty, as was the kitchen. Fortunately, a carafe of coffee waited on the counter with a ceramic mug she recognized beside it. She'd made if for her father when she was ten.

A piece of paper extended from under it. Pulling it out, she read in her mother's distinctive hand,Cam. I'm in the studio. Come up when you're ready.

Cam poured coffee and found a banana in a basket next to the refrigerator. Carrying her coffee and fruit, she climbed the rear stairs to the third floor. She paused at the studio door, uncertain if her mother might be working.

"Hello?"

"Cameron? Is that you?" came her mother's voice from the far end of the studio.

"Yep. Okay to come in?"

"Always." Marcea came forward with a fond smile on her face. She stopped before her daughter, who was an inch or two taller, and stood on her toes to kiss Cam's cheek. "It's good to see you."

"You, too," Cam said, looking around for safe place to rest her coffee mug.

Here," Marcea said, removing a cork coaster from underneath a pile of loose sketch sheets, pencils, and drawing pens. She placed it on a nearby stand. "How are you?"

"Fine," Cam responded, wondering just how much her mother knew about the recent events. The threats on Blair's life and the bloody resolution had been downplayed in the press, but Blair could have told her. She doubted, though, that Blair would have mentioned her own injuries to Marcea. Not after what had happened earlier that year. She rested a hip on the edge of a long counter that held an assortment of art supplies and peeled the banana. "It's been hectic. I'm a bit tired is all."

"Well, hopefully the opening tonight won't be taxing," Marcea said, pulling over a tall stool and sitting next to Cam.

"Where is everyone?" Cam asked.

"Blair went running, and Paula and Felicia went with her."

Can frowned momentarily, running through her mind the intelligence reports of the immediate area they'd hastily gathered before Blairs trip. Nothing to be worried about, but still- "Is someone in the car, too?"

"I don't know. I take it her decision to go out was rather sudden."

"It would be," Cam said with a resigned shake of her head. "I'd better call Mac for a status report. Have you seen him today?"

"He was here very briefly and talked to Paula."

"All right. Thanks," she said, reaching for her coffee and starting to move away.

"Do you have to leave immediately? She's quite safe with Paula and Felicia, isn't she?"

Startled, Cam halted. Her mother had never really shown much interest in her work before and rarely talked to her about the details. But then of course, this wasn't about her work. This was about Blair. "Yes, she should be fine."

"Well then, stay and drink your coffee and I'll catch you up on all the latest gossip from the art scene and elsewhere."

For a second, Cam considered refusing. Then she reminded herself that until she officially relieved Mac as crew chief, he would be keeping a very close eye on what was happening with Blair. A few more minutes wouldn't matter, and she rarely got the opportunity to speak with her mother.

"All right. Lets start with the good stuff. What's happening with you and Giancarlo?" To her amazement, her mother blushed.

"Ah...let's say we are exploring possibilities."

"Well, that's an intriguing answer." Cam laughed. "Romanticpossibilities?"

"Yes."

Cam's surprise was equaled only by her pleasure. Since her father had been killed nearly twenty years ago, she had not known her mother to have a serious or even casual relationship with any man.

"I like him," Cam announced, finishing her banana and placing the peel on a crumpled piece of paper near her coffee mug. "I think it's terrific, and I hope thisexploration brings you happiness."

Marcea studied her daughter's face, taken aback by the calm certainty in her tone and expression. She was used to more emotional detachment in her driven offspring, and the insightful directness of her response was new. "Thank you. And in the same token, might I ask about you and Blair?"

Cam stiffened, denial rising automatically to her lips. Instead, to her amazement, she found herself saying, "We are exploring possibilities, too."

"I have the feeling your exploration is a little further along than mine and Giancarlo's-and I'm not talking about the bedroom."

"It's complicated," Cam responded, looking away.

"Cameron, my love, romance is always complicated." Marcea laughed and rested her palm on Cam's cheek. "She's very much in love with you, you know."

Cam swallowed, her voice suddenly deserting her. She reached for her mother's hand and held it lightly, staring at the strong tapering fingers that brought life to bare canvas and swatches of color. In a voice so low that Marcea had to lean forward to hear, Cam whispered, "God, I hope so."

She raised her eyes to her mother's, their grey depths nearly black with emotion. "I shouldn't even think about her, but I can't stop what I feel for her."

"Good. Because she doesn't want you to." Marcea leaned forward and kissed Cam on the forehead. "It will be all right. Just follow your heart."

"I'll try," Cam said softly.

She stayed a few more minutes while her mother brought her up to date on the latest news until finally, her need to check in with Mac became so urgent that she couldn't listen any longer. "I'm sorry. I need to get to work."

"Of course you do. Marcea laughed. «I'm surprised you managed to sit still this long. Go ahead."

"I'll see you tonight," Cam said as she hurried toward the hall.

"Wonderful."

Marcea listened to Cam's footsteps fade away and hoped that her daughter and Blair would find their way to happiness.

*****

"Mac?"

"Good morning, Commander." Mac's voice sounded cheerful and welcoming through the line. The blond-haired blue-eyed agent was ordinarily her communication coordinator, but when she was away he assumed the role of crew chief in her stead. He'd fulfilled that role during the months when she'd been recovering from the gunshot wound. "Welcome aboard."

"Thanks." Cam stood on the rear deck of her mother's home watching the white triangles of sails cut across the blue water of the Bay far below. "Feels good to be here."

"After New York? Yeah."

"Where are you?"

"I'm still at the command post in the Saint Francis. Since she's always moving, I figured I should be stationary. I've pretty much been coordinating from here," Mac replied, giving no indication of the fact that he'd been taking calls almost twenty four hours a day from the agents on shift who were guarding Blair Powell, appraising him of her whereabouts and providing status reports.

"Sounds right," Cam observed. "Where is she now?"

"At Gold's Gym on Market and Noe."

"Who's inside?"

"Stark. It's quiet."

Cam wanted more details, but she had to admit she just wanted to know where Blair was, what she was doing. Her position gave her the power to know more about Blair's life than Blair might choose to share, and that was one of the dangers of crossing the line between protector and lover. Blair had never had a private life, not since she was twelve and her father had burst on the political scene as a very visible Governor and then later as Vice President. She was entitled to as much privacy as they could give her and still keep her safe. The fact that Cam was in love with her didn't change that.

"Okay," Cam said brusquely, annoyed that her mind was wandering. It never wandered when she worked, but just thinking about Blair... "Right. I'll take over-"

"Things are under control, Commander, if you want to take some down time. At least until the gallery opening tonight."

She was about to refuse when it occurred to her that she hadn't had an entire day off in weeks. "Thanks, Mac. We'll run through the assignments at 1700 hours.

"Roger."

*****

As it turned out, Cam did not see Blair for the rest of the day. At 6:00 p.m., Cam waited in the living room of her mother's house to accompany the President's daughter to the opening of Marcea's latest show at the Rodman Gallery just off Union Square. She checked out the window to be certain that John Fielding had the Suburban idling at the curb in front of the house and that Felicia Davis rode in the shotgun seat beside him as planned. Turning at the sound of footsteps on the stairs from the second floor, Cam felt the breath stop in her chest.