“Let me revise that,” Dana whispered. “I only fool around with you.”

“May I quote you?” Emory asked, gently stroking.

“Yes.” Dana groaned. “Can you…please…oh, God. Can you just keep doing that forever?”

Emory laughed softly. “Well, that’s a start.”

“Drink?” Cam asked as she poured another two fingers of scotch into her glass.

“No, thank you,” Valerie said, quickly scanning the room. “Blair?”

Cam nodded toward the closed bedroom door as she returned to the sofa. “Asleep. As soon as we got back from the hospital she crashed.”

“No wonder. I got word that Stark is out of surgery.”

Cam sat heavily, stretched her legs out, and let her head drop onto the back of the sofa. She had changed into jeans and a sweatshirt after Blair had fallen asleep, and waited, knowing that Valerie would eventually arrive. “All things considered, she’s lucky. The round tore up some muscle but missed the bone and the nerve. If it hadn’t nicked the artery, she probably wouldn’t even have gone down. The blood loss is what took her out.”

“Then she should do well.”

“With a little more of that luck.” Cam grimaced, thinking of the man they had lost. Of almost losing Stark. Of Dana. And God, of Blair. She gestured to the sofa. “Sit down. You must be beat, because I sure as hell am.”

“Our situations are a little bit different.” Valerie settled on the couch a few inches from Cam. “I thought you’d want a report tonight.”

“I do.” Cam sipped her scotch. “I’ll trade you what I got from Lucinda if you tell me you got Matheson’s partner.”

Valerie tilted her head, half smiling. “Which one?”

“Not the one that was making the phone demands to DC. The one Matheson was counting on to get him out of here today.”

“I wondered if you’d figured that out.”

Cam grinned wearily. “I’m tired, but I think my brain is still functioning.”

“No one would blame you for being off your game today, but you weren’t.”

“Yes, I was, and you know it. I owe you…we all owe you…for telling me so.”

“I didn’t want control of the operation because I didn’t trust your judgment, Cameron.” Valerie shot a look toward the bedroom door and lowered her voice further. “If something went wrong, I wanted—”

“I know what you wanted.” Cam tapped Valerie’s arm, a light caress, then drew her hand away. “You wanted the casualties to be on your head, not mine. Especially if one of them was Blair.”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Valerie angled sideways on the sofa and her leg lightly brushed Cam’s thigh. “We’re almost even.”

Cam shook her head. “Let’s just say we’ve each saved each other’s lives more than once. Hopefully we won’t have to do it again.”

“Hopefully,” Valerie said pensively.

“So tell me.”

“When Greg was flying a grid over the area in the chopper, he spotted a snowmobile trail cutting through the forest about five miles down the mountain. It didn’t intersect with the main road, but it ran close enough in spots that a heavy off-road vehicle could have reached it.”

“A big SUV like the Suburban,” Cam said.

“Yes. He had the pilot bring the helicopter down where the trail came closest to the road and it looked like the trees were thinner. He found an old fire trail and followed it. Guess what he found.”

Cam drained her scotch and set the glass carefully on the table beside her. “An abandoned snowmobile?”

“Precisely.”

“Matheson knew we would follow him if he managed to get out of here with Blair in the SUV,” Cam said tonelessly. “But all he needed was to be a minute ahead of us—then he pulls off road, reaches the trail where his partner is waiting, transfers to the snowmobile, and disappears into the forest. We wouldn’t be able to see them from the air and we wouldn’t have the equipment to track them on the ground.”

Valerie shrugged. “Simple, but elegant. The best plans always are. I’ve got people out there now following the snowmobile tracks, but I doubt they’ll find anything.”

“He didn’t expect us to risk the hostages by engaging him in the cabin.” Cam stood abruptly, her chest hot with anger. Matheson would have executed the hostages in the forest, she was certain of that. “He thought he could put Blair in that vehicle and drive away, and we’d let him.”

“He was counting on us being cautious because of who Blair is.”

Cam grinned with dark pleasure. “He underestimated her, didn’t he?”

“He did. How is she?”

“Exhausted.” Cam braced an arm on the fireplace and watched flames lick at the logs. “She wasn’t supposed to have to do this herself. That’s why we’re here, to spare her this.”

“Cameron,” Valerie said softly. She went to Cam and rested both hands on her shoulders. “What’s important is that she survived. And she has you to remind her that what she did was right, on every level.”

“Lucinda couldn’t get a trace on the caller.” Cam sighed as Valerie lightly massaged her shoulders. “When he was advised there would be no prisoner exchange, he said this was only the first strike. Then he hung up.”

“We’ve heard that before. We know this is only the beginning.”

“I need you on the team, now more than ever.” Cam turned and Valerie dropped her hands. “I’ve got the best people there are, but you…you know me, and I need that.”

“The agency teaches us to believe that the greatest danger is allowing others to know us.” Valerie cupped Cam’s jaw and kissed her fleetingly. “That was for showing me how very wrong they were. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Cam said softly as Valerie stepped away. Cam squared her shoulders. “Let the others know we’ll be briefing at oh six hundred.”

“I’ll do that. Good night.”

“Was that Valerie?” Blair asked when Cam came into the bedroom.

“Yes. Giving report.” Cam kicked off her boots and undressed. She climbed into bed and drew Blair into her arms. “I’m sorry if we woke you.”

“No, I was awake.” Blair tucked her head beneath Cam’s chin. “Is everything all right now?”

“We’re secure.”

“Are we going to be able to find Matheson’s accomplices?”

“Eventually,” Cam said with certainty.

“And until then?”

“We go on with our lives, just as we planned.”

Blair sighed. “My father shouldn’t come out here right now, should he?”

“Ah, baby,” Cam murmured. “I’m sorry.”

“And Paula is going to be in the hospital for another week at least.” Blair inched closer until she was lying on top of Cam. She curled her arms around Cam’s shoulders and nuzzled her neck. “I’m not getting married without Paula there.”

“We’ll reschedule.” When Blair stiffened, Cam caught her chin and raised her head, forcing Blair to look at her. “Postpone. Not cancel. You can’t get out of it this easily.”

Blair laughed. “And here I thought I was going to get rid of you.”

“Never.” Cam grasped Blair’s shoulders and rolled them over, settling her hips between Blair’s legs. She kissed her, sinking into the heat of her mouth and the soft welcome of her body. She whispered against her lips, “I love you, and no one and nothing will come between us. I intend to say that to everyone who will listen.”

“They…whoever they are…probably think they’ll frighten us into hiding. Not just how we feel about one another, but from them. I won’t hide.”

“No, we won’t hide.” Cam spread her fingers through Blair’s hair, holding her as she kissed down her neck. When Blair’s legs came around hers, pulling her in tighter, she felt the familiar surge of arousal that never failed to amaze her. What they shared was more than love, it was life, and no one would take that from them. “Are you too tired?”

Blair found Cam’s hand and brought it to her breast. She pressed Cam’s fingers against her heart. “I need you, in here. Make love to me in here. You’re the only one who can.”

With passion and reverence, power and joy, Cam took what was given and gave all that she had.

Chapter Twenty-eight

One Month Later

“Let me go around and get the door,” Renee said as the Suburban pulled to a stop on the circular drive in front of the sweeping wood and glass house on the edge of the ocean. “Use your cane, all right?”

“I’ve got it right here,” Paula replied, waiting dutifully while Renee jumped out and sprinted around the vehicle to open her door. She really didn’t need the help any longer, but Renee needed to do it. She’d felt the same way when Renee had been shot, helpless and scared. So she didn’t protest when Renee leaned in to take her arm and guide her onto the flagstone walkway leading up to Tanner and Adrienne’s home on Whitley Island.

“Just let me know if you start feeling tired,” Renee said, “and we’ll go someplace and sit for a while.”

“Right. I will.”

Renee hooked her arm through Paula’s as they made their way past terraced gardens that were covered now with snow and the empty fountains that in summer filled the air with cascading rainbows. “I’m hovering, aren’t I?”

“Nope.” Paula nodded to the agents who flanked the staircase leading up to the wide veranda, checking IDs and guest lists. She blushed when several casually saluted her. The notoriety that came with having been shot in the line of duty was embarrassing, especially when she hadn’t even been able to neutralize the threat to her protectee. She certainly did not feel heroic.

“You did your job, sweetie,” Renee murmured. “You made everyone proud.”

“It’s scary the way you can read my mind.”

Renee kissed her cheek. “It’s only because I love you.”

“That’s good.” Paula laughed and hooked an arm around Renee’s waist. “Because I’d hate to think that anybody else would know what I was thinking—especially when you look so spectacular in that dress.”

“Is that a line?”

Paula waited while the agent at the door held it open for them, and once they were inside the great room, which was already alive with activity and the buzz of conversation, answered, “Absolutely. The doctor said no restrictions except heavy lifting. And you’re not heavy.”

Renee laughed and waved to Emory and Dana. “You’ve got two weeks until you start serious rehab. In the meantime, I guess we can work a little on your flexibility.”

“Sounds like just the therapy I need.”

“It’s hard to believe it’s only been a month since that nightmare,” Emory said when Paula and Renee moved off to speak to the hostesses. Her gaze swept over Dana, her lids slowly lowering as her lips curved playfully. “Although I am aware it’s been almost a month since the last time I saw you. Painfully aware.”

“Longest month of my life,” Dana muttered, concentrating on the feel of Emory’s hand in hers. They hadn’t touched in twenty-eight days. Twenty-eight endless days and restless nights. She wished they were anywhere else right now, doing anything other than waiting for the first daughter to get married. She was still officially on this story, although she didn’t seem to be able to pay attention to anyone but Emory. God, but Emory smelled so good, and her dress—a shade of blue the exact color of the Mediterranean Sea—accentuated all her curves and revealed just enough skin as it dipped low over her chest and back to make Dana’s palms tingle. “It’s so damn good to see you. I’ve been living on the sound of your voice over the phone, and as fun as that is sometimes, it’s not enough. I’m dying to touch you.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get away sooner. Knowing that you arrived last night to interview Blair and I couldn’t get here until this morning has been driving me crazy.” Emory leaned closer and whispered, “I want to kiss you. Actually, I want to get you out of that very elegant suit and make love to you for a week.”

“Only a week?”

“That’s round one.”

Dana wondered how she was going to manage civil conversation for the next five hours while she was completely aroused. “I’m due some time off. I never collected on my leave after I got back from overseas the last time. Clive has had me chained to my desk.”

“Your reports on terrorism and what it means for us, all of us, have been amazing. I’m glad the White House didn’t demand a blackout on all of it.” Emory scanned the crowd waiting for the signal to move into the solarium where the ceremony would be held, noting the large number of security guards. “You handled what happened to Blair very sensitively.”

“Even if I didn’t know her personally, I wouldn’t have reported the details of what happened out there anyhow.” Dana shrugged. “I don’t have to give some other bunch of crazies any ideas in order to report what really matters. While Lucinda Washburn and my editor were fussing at each other over First Amendment rights versus national security, I just wrote my story and let them worry about the spin.”