Chapter fifteen

Cam closed the comm center door quietly, nodded perfunctorily to Reynolds, who stood in the hall outside Blair's room, and walked toward the stairwell. It had been a long night, she was beat, and she was lonely. She'd hoped earlier for a few minutes alone with Blair after the formal affair, but the intruder had put an end to that wish. Now it was fast approaching dawn and a full day of travel awaited—another potentially hazardous time for Blair when Cam and the whole team needed to be sharp. "Commander?"

Turning, Cam answered, "Yes?" Reynolds held out an envelope. "For you, ma'am." Silently, Cam stepped forward and extended her hand. Angling with her back to Reynolds, she opened the envelope and withdrew the single sheet of cream-colored stationery bearing the watermark of the Hotel Marigny. In her lover's bold script she read, Please come to me—no matter how late. B —

Carefully, Cam replaced the notepaper in the envelope and slipped it into her jacket pocket. Then she walked directly past Reynolds, who gave no sign that he even saw her, used the master passkey to open the door, and stepped inside. The sitting room was dark, as was the bedroom beyond the open door opposite. Moving slowly in the moonlight, Cam removed her tuxedo jacket and dropped it onto the arm of the sofa as she passed. She loosened the tie from around her neck, folded it, and slid it into her pants pocket. By the time she reached the bedroom door, she had removed her cufflinks and studs from her shirt and placed them into the opposite front pocket. Once inside the bedroom, she bent down, untied her shoes, and pushed them off along with her socks. She pulled her open shirt free from the cummerbund at her waist and let it fall over the holster on her hip. Standing beside the bed, she looked down on Blair, who slept nude beneath a pure white sheet.

She'd taken the comb from her hair, and waves of gold framed her face in the silver light. A pain struck deep in Cam's heart, the kind of ache she always felt when she looked at beauty. Faced with both beauty and love, she was rendered helpless with awe. She freed her weapon from her waistband and rested it on top of the antique nightstand, then removed her shirt, unzipped her pants, and stepped out of the remainder of her clothing. Gently, she drew aside the sheet and eased down onto the edge of the bed. Before she could stretch out, Blair curled around her from behind with both arms encircling her waist and pressed her cheek to the center of Cam's back.

"You came. I hoped you would," Blair murmured, her mouth against Cam's skin, her palm flat against Cam's abdomen.

"I tried not to wake you," Cam whispered, covering Blair's hand with her own. Their fingers linked automatically.

"Mmm, no. I'm glad you did. I was worried."

"Everything is fine."

As they talked, Blair stroked her fingers up and down Cam's abdomen. The touch, casual and possessive, was both comforting and arousing. Blair's hand still in hers, Cam gave a weary sigh and leaned back onto the pillows. Blair shifted with her until she was lying against Cam's side, her head on her lover's shoulder.

As she continued her soft caresses, Blair asked quietly, "Who was he?"

Cam stroked the thick blond hair, soothed as she always was by its fragrant softness drifting through her fingers. "Just a reporter, it looks like."

"That light was a camera flash, then, when I first walked out?"

"Yes—and he was equipped with a minirecorder, too. That's what he had in his hand—the microphone." That I took for a gun. Cam considered how close she'd come to dislocating his elbow, more out of fury than necessity. He'd been the last person in a too-long line of people who had overstepped their bounds that evening where her lover was concerned—the throng of media who had descended upon them the instant they had stepped from their vehicle; the men who found Blair desirable and who took the opportunity to hold her and caress her as if it were their right; the ex-lover—because she couldn't have been anything else considering the way she had looked at Blair and touched her with a knowledge born of intimacy—who had clearly been interested in another interlude. By the time this intruder had lunged from the darkness to accost her lover, Cam had been ready to fight. It had taken all her control merely to immobilize him without assuaging her anger by breaking his arm.

Blair pressed her lips to the tight muscles just below Cam's collarbone. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing—-just wound up."

"I know. I can feel it." Blair raised up on an elbow and studied her lover. Cam's eyes were dark pools, and in the dim moonlight, she could not read what lay in their depths. Without being able to see Cam's eyes, she was at a disadvantage, because that was the one place Cam's secrets were exposed. She placed her palm in the center of Cam's chest, felt her heart beat steady and sure, and eased her leg over Cam's thigh. "Want to tell me why?"

Cam hesitated, reluctant to burden her lover with concerns over a situation she could not change. Then she recalled what Blair had said to her only weeks before.

I love you. It s not just about sex and it's not just about common ground It's about needing to be with you. It s about needing to be in your life.

Resting a hand on the back of Blair's neck and drawing her back down, Cam replied quietly, "I was thinking about how much I don't like other people touching you, or even trying to."

"Other people." Blair was silent for a long moment. "Other people like Margot Fallon?"

"She would be one," Cam noted nonchalantly as she thought of the striking wife of the French ambassador.

"I should have realized that you would know exactly what she was doing." Blair sighed, aware as well that her previous liaisons with Margot must have been documented somewhere and that Cam would have read all about them. "You do know that I wasn't tempted, don't you?"

"Temptation is not a sin."

"No," Blair mused, "I suppose we can't be expected to control how our bodies respond."

"I'm going to kill her."

Cam's tone was absolutely serious, but Blair merely laughed and fit herself more closely to Cam. "As it happens, I was tempted in neither body nor spirit. But I'm sorry if it bothered you."

"It's not your fault, and there's no need for you to apologize." Cam turned her head and kissed Blair's forehead, shifting on her side until their bodies touched along their lengths. "I can see why it's so hard for you to constantly be the center of attention. So many people take liberties."

Blair caught her breath as her heart filled with a combination of wonder and surprise. "Every time you say something like that, I fall in love with you all over again."

Before she could change her mind, Cam pushed on. "I talked to Mac tonight about whether my being in love with you was compromising my ability to run the detail."

"Oh, Cam. I'm sorry. I'm sorry that anything about tonight made you feel that way." Blair laughed softly and kissed the side of Cam's throat. "A few months ago—hell, a few weeks ago, I would have been delighted to think that you weren't happy with your performance. Then, maybe I could've taken advantage of your momentary, and extraordinarily rare, insecurity to get you to resign."

"And now?" Cam asked curiously.

"As much as I still hate the thought of you placing yourself in jeopardy to protect me, I love having you around." Blair took a deep breath and finished before she could change her mind. "More than that, I love having you as my security chief. I trust you."

"That means everything to me," Cam murmured, tracing her fingertips along the undersurface of Blair's jaw before tilting her head up for a kiss. She lingered on the softness of Blair's lips, gliding her fingers over the elegant bones of Blair's face as she explored the warmth of her mouth with her tongue. When she drew back, she added huskily, "If I ever thought I couldn't take care of you, I'd quit."

"I can't imagine that will ever happen," Blair whispered, "but as long as you let me take care of you, too, I won't ever ask you to stop doing what you need to do."

Cam rested her forehead against Blair's, a feeling of ultimate peace and rightness stealing over her, "I need you so much."

For the second time that evening, Blair was speechless. She pressed even nearer, her breasts against Cam's, a leg insinuated between Cam's thighs. The surge of pleasure that streaked through her had as much to do with happiness as arousal. If it had been physically possible, she would have climbed inside of Cam's body and curled up—-she wanted to be that close to her. As it was, she had only her inadequate words and her body with which to convey the depths of her love. She smoothed her palm down the center of Cam's back to her hips, then pulled Cam more firmly into her. Her voice held a desperate plea. "I love you so much and I don't know how to tell you, to show you. I want to make love to you, but I know it won't be enough. God...nothing will ever be enough."

"Hold me tightly," Cam whispered hoarsely against Blair's ear, needing nothing more than the beat of Blair's heart against her skin. "Just hold me like this until morning, and I promise, it will be enough."

The faint tremor in Cam's voice brought a surge of protectiveness, and Blair tightened her grip. "Oh yes, darling. Oh yes."

"It's almost dawn," Renee whispered, leaning on her elbows with her hands gently framing Stark's face. "You should get some sleep."

"I can sleep on the plane." Stark drew both hands down Renee's back to her hips and lifted her own pelvis, the contact striking fire to her blood. "I can't seem to get enough of you. I don't want to sleep when I can be touching you."

"This doesn't have to end tonight." Renee kissed her softly. Does it? Tell me that it doesn't. Tell me that this isn’t just about being in Paris.

"I know," Stark sighed. "But once we're home, you'll go back to work, and I'll be traveling with Egret. I won't be able to see you as much."

Renee laughed softly as relief lifted her heart. She threaded her fingers into Stark's hair and edged her leg higher between Stark's strong thighs, reveling in the surprised groan from the woman beneath her. Although she'd thought herself satisfied— beyond satisfied—by the soaring orgasm she'd experienced only moments before, she felt herself pulse and grow hard again. "We'll find time. We'll make time." She leaned down and took Stark's mouth with a hunger that surprised them both. She rocked on Stark's thigh, teasing them both as she slicked Stark's skin with the hot essence of her desire. Gasping, she forced the words out. "This is our life."

"Sit up," Stark urged desperately, her breath barely moving as she watched Renee's face dissolve with pleasure. "I want to see you come. I want to remember how beautiful you look."

Renee gave a small cry and forced herself upward to sit astride Stark's leg, grasping the hands that Stark offered in support. Their fingers clenched and her hair fell forward on either side of her face as her head dropped. Her hips pistoned as her stomach tightened and her vision dimmed. "Oh God," she cried, her head snapping back. "Oh God, Paula."

"That's it," Stark groaned hoarsely Her own body throbbed with an answering swell of passion as she watched Renee near orgasm, but that pleasure was only a pale echo of the sheer glory of watching Renee's surrender. "So beautiful."

Trembling at the peak of her release, Renee implored, "Hold me."

Stark reared up and enfolded Renee in her arms as Renee shuddered and sobbed out her name. Together they fell back to the bed, wrapped tightly in each other's embrace.

Stroking Renee's hair, Stark murmured, "You okay?"

"Oh," Renee laughed unsteadily, "I have no idea." She rubbed her cheek against Stark's breast. "I've never been like this with anyone before."

"Like what?" Stark kissed her forehead, her eyes, her cheeks. "Huh? Sweetheart?"

"So crazy, so free." Renee cupped Stark's breast gently. "So safe. You're a remarkable lover."

"Uh," Stark mumbled, trying to ignore the swift tightening of her nipple beneath Renee's hand. "I'm not doing anything. I'm just...you, it's you...I'm just touching you."

Then please don't stop. Renee sighed languorously. "It's working very nicely."

"Good." Stark stilled the motion of Renee's hand. The slow brush of fingers was driving her crazy. "Will you call me as soon as you land tomorrow?"

"Mmrn-hmm. Where are you going to be?"

"We're supposed to be headed back to New York City, but you never know."

"I'll tell you what—I'll call your cell when I land, then you call me when you're free."

"Okay." Stark let out a sigh. "I miss you already."

"I'm not gone yet." Renee replaced the fingers on Stark's nipple with her lips while at the same time smoothing her hand down Stark's stomach and between her legs. She moaned softly as Stark arched beneath her hands. Carefully, she fondled the length of the firm clitoris, timing her strokes to the rhythm of Stark's murmured pleasure. When the first ripple of Stark's climax coursed beneath her fingertips, she carefully entered her.

"Feels so good." Stark jerked and buried her face in Renee's hair, trying hard to hold out against the sudden surge of sensation. She hadn't known she could feel this way, so full and yet so hungry for more. "Do it…harder."

"Next time, sweetie," Renee whispered, drawing her fingers tenderly in and out. "Just come for me now."

"I am," Stark sobbed. "I...Oh...I am."

Through a haze of excitement, Renee contained her desire to push harder and deeper, knowing that this act of love was new to her lover. She stilled her hand when the orgasm played around her fingers, moving only enough to encourage the last final spasms of pleasure. When she felt Stark's taut muscles soften and her body relax, she slowly withdrew. At the sound of a small cry, Renee swiftly gathered her lover close.

"Sweetie, honey? Are you okay?"

Weak with the aftermath of pleasure, Stark rested her forehead between Renee's breasts, her voice barely a whisper. "Okay? I could die happy now."

Renee's heart lurched, though she knew the words carried no portent, and she managed a small laugh while stroking Stark's damp face. "Well, since that was only the beginning, I suggest you stick around for a while longer."

"Oh, I intend to."

At 0610, Felicia looked up from her newspaper as the hotel room door banged open. Stark came flying through with a look of dazed panic on her face.

"Oh man," Stark exclaimed, her eyes faintly wild. "I'm going to be late, and the commander is going to bust me."

Felicia, in a dusky gray, blended-silk suit, sipped coffee at the small table before the open French doors that led to the small balcony. She lowered her cup and regarded Stark with a hint of a smile. "Go take a shower. I packed your gear already."

Stark skidded to a halt, breathing heavily. "You did? Oh God, you did? I owe you. I owe you so big."

"You're right. You do." Felicia went back to her newspaper, suppressing a laugh.

Fifteen minutes later, she and Stark headed for the comm center where, within a matter of thirty seconds, the rest of the team arrived as well. The agents took seats around the conference table and waited silently, most with coffee in one hand and a PDA in the other, for Cam to walk to the head of the table and open the morning briefing.

"There's been a slight change in plans," Cam announced at precisely 0630. "We're flying into Washington Dulles instead of La Guardia. Those of you on temporary assignment for this trip can make arrangements there to return to your home base. The permanent team will remain in DC until further notice. Mac will update shift assignments en route."

No one commented. Last-minute changes in the itinerary weren't at all unusual, especially on a return leg. Disruption of personal plans was a routine part of the job. After Cam reviewed the timetable for transport to De Gaulle Airport, along with the vehicle assignments, she dismissed the team to prepare for departure. After everyone had left, Mac approached her.

"Let me guess. Lucinda Washburn?"

Cam nodded with the barest trace of a grimace. "I don't think she ever sleeps. She called Blair at 0500 and demanded a personal appearance at the White House this evening."

"I take it this was prompted by the press release?"

"Presumably." Cam bit off the words as she tried to control her temper. "It isn't as if Lucinda didn't know this was coming. Blair advised her of the interview when it was scheduled."

"Anything I can do?"

Cam shook her head. "Thanks. Blair will handle it, I'm sure." I just wish she didn't have to. All she wants to do is get back home so she can paint. She's paid her dues with this trip, and the least Lucinda can do is leave her in peace for a few weeks.

With a conscious effort to focus on the details of the last leg of their journey, Cam sighed. "Let's go home, Mac."

"Roger that, Commander."

18Aug01

Just off Interstate 95, Florida

A beefy redhead in olive green cammies entered the restaurant and looked around the nearly empty seating area. His flat blue eyes settled on the thin, bearded, dark-haired man attired in casual tan chinos and an open-collared white shirt. The faxed photo he had been provided of his contact wasn't very good, but the man in the booth staring back at him fit the description. He walked across the room and settled heavily into the booth opposite the smaller man.

"Is your team ready?" he asked without preamble.

Arrogant Americans. The bearded man's eyes sparked with indignation, but he answered quietly in lightly accented English, "We are."

"What about the others?"

"They await only the final instructions to move into place."

The redhead passed a single sheet of paper across the table. "These are the flight details."

The targets weren't listed, but he knew them. New York City, Washington, DC, Chicago, Los Angeles. And a very special one of which his bearded "friend" was unaware.

After a moment of studying the printout, the first man lifted surprised eyes. "We understood it was to be sooner."

"The personnel for one of the critical flights were changed. If Hydra command wants all six targets, this is the date." The second man's tone was condescending. They were on his turf, even if it was their show. They'd come to his organization with an offer to combine resources for a preemptive strike that would send a message once and for all that in America, the true Americans were coming to power. Ultimately, their groups might have different agendas, but a blow to their common enemy would strengthen them all. Allies today, enemies tomorrow. That was the way of war.

"When my leader gives the word, we will not hesitate." The bearded man carefully folded the sheet of paper listing the departure times and flight numbers of the airplanes that would carry him and his brothers to glory.

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