perfectly turned out image she was used to seeing on the television and in magazine articles. This woman was naturally beautiful, with no makeup, untamed hair, faded jeans and a baggy sweatshirt that did little to hide the suggestive swell of her breasts. Helen would never have recognized her as the President's daughter. But she would not have overlooked her allure either.
'May I ask how you came to stay here?' Helen asked.
'Friends of mine, Sarah Hughes Whitley and Anne Perry, have stayed here.'
Helen raised an eyebrow slightly, remembering the attractive couple from earlier in the season. 'Two of my most favorite guests,' she responded.
Blair met her gaze evenly, and was pleased to see that the other woman did not avert her eyes. 'I'm very fond of them.'
'As am I,' Helen responded. 'You needn't be concerned about my discretion, Ms. Powell. My only interest is in providing my guests with good skiing and privacy. My only hope is that you have seven days of excellent running. I couldn't care less about your personal life.'
Blair laughed. 'Well, you may be the only person in the United States for whom that's true.'
Helen laughed with her. 'I think you may be right.'
*********
An hour later, Cam walked into the lounge and helped herself to a cup of coffee from the large urn which stood always ready on the side board. She turned, sipping gratefully at the hot liquid, and met the eyes of Helen Craig. Helen stood regarding her silently, a slight smile on her face. Cam nodded and settled into one of the large leather chairs before the fireplace. After a moment, Helen joined her with her own coffee.
'She's already out on the slopes,' Helen commented.
'Yes, I know.'
'I suppose you do,' Helen said softly. 'It must be very difficult for her.'
Cam had been doing her job too many years to fall into the trap of casual conversation with a stranger. Especially a conversation about someone as high-profile as the President's daughter. However, there was something so genuine about the woman beside her, she felt strangely at ease. 'I imagine it is.'
Helen might not have any experience with the interpersonal relationships between a woman like Blair and those who guarded her, but she had plenty of experience with the attractions of one woman for another. She had had the opportunity to observe the reserved Secret Service Agent and the First Daughter together the previous night at dinner, and later as they moved about each other in an uneasy truce in the lounge. Blair Powell had scarcely taken her eyes off the tall lanky security chief, and it seemed that Blair's best friend Diane was captivated as well. The object of their attention, however, had revealed little, unless you were watching her. And Helen had been watching her closely. When the others were engaged in conversation the dark-haired woman with the smoky grey eyes watched the President's daughter with a penetrating intensity that should have left marks on her skin. Helen had seen that look before, in the eyes of women who thought they knew their own hearts, and their own minds. In the eyes of women who refused to acknowledge the truth of their own feelings.
'It must be lonely for her. She could probably use of friend,' Helen remarked quietly.
Cam sighed, and gently replaced her cup on the coffee table. She walked toward the fireplace, watching the bark glow red and crumble from the logs as they burned brightly to their own destruction. 'She has friends. What she needs is to be free. That's something no one can give her.'
'There are more ways than one to be free.'
When Cam looked back, knowing she had no answers, she found she was alone.
*********
'You really shouldn't let Stark play pinochle. She's god awful, and a danger to herself. If she had been my partner, I would have murdered her,' Blair commented as she joined Cam on the wide front deck of the ski lodge. The night was frigid, the air so crisp it tingled against her skin. The sky was impossibly black, with stars so bright, and so numerous, it felt as if she were standing on the edge of heaven. Their breath left small clouds of white crystals in the air around them. Despite the temperature, she was not cold. She had been waiting all evening for an opportunity to be alone with her security chief. Now that the time had come, her pulse raised and her belly stirred with an excitement she tried to ignore.
'Card playing is a necessity for a Secret Service Agent,' Cam responded seriously, although the corners of her mouth turned up in a rare smile.
'Yes, I'm sure.' Blair stepped closer until her body brushed the shoulder of the woman beside her. She was surprised when Cameron did not move away. 'Then again, I'm sure that Secret Service agents need to be talented in many things.'
Cam turned to face her, her eyes serious. 'Ms. Powell, I know how difficult all of this is for you...'
'I don't think you do,' Blair said, resting her gloved hand against Cam's shoulder. 'It's damned inconvenient finding a way to get one's security chief into bed without creating a national scandal.'
'Perhaps there's a message there.'
'There may be, but I have no interest in it. All I'm interested in is you.'
Cam stepped back just enough to break their contact. Blair Powell was easily the most attractive woman she ever known. If that weren't enough, Blair was touchingly vulnerable in her unguarded moments. Cam wished there were some way to ease the younger woman's pain. But she could not allow her sympathy to interfere with her effectiveness. She reminded herself that the beautiful seductress before her was not truly interested in her, but rather wanted to use her as the tool to break the chains of her invisible prison. Cameron knew this, and because she did, she ignored the hammering of her heart and the rush of blood into her loins.
'I'm afraid you have mistaken my attentions. Your physical well-being is my only concern. I am not interested in anything other than that.'
Blair felt the words rip through her. Although her tone had been light and teasing, she had been serious about her offer to Cam. She had not approached a woman with true desire in more years then she could count. It hurt,
