By now they were in the hallway, alone, and Marcy had maneuvered her up against the wall. She had both hands under Blair's sweater, cupping her breasts, squeezing them as she worked Blair's nipples between her fingers.
Blair pressed her palms flat against the wall, her head tipped back, her eyes closed, struggling to stay upright, verging on orgasm. She wasn't thinking of the woman who touched her now, but of the woman who had done so much more than just touch her body.
'Blair,' Marcy whispered.
Not Cam.
'Marcy,' Blair groaned, forcing her eyes open, backing away from the edge through sheer willpower. 'We -- should -- stop.'
Marcy's lips were on Blair's neck, biting her lightly as she pressed harder against her, one hand pushing under the waistband of Blair's pants. 'Oh god, I don't want to.'
She moved her hand to the triangle between Blair's thighs and squeezed rhythmically. 'God, I know how close you are. I can feel it.'
Blair pulled away as much as she could, struggling to contain the surging pressure building between her legs, knowing that in a second, she would lose the fight. Dimly she wondered why it mattered, and she did not want to know the answer. 'Stop now, please.'
Marcy lifted her hands to Blair's waist, holding her but not pushing her any further. She shuddered against Blair, gasping. 'I'm sorry. I don't know what happened.'
Blair laughed shakily. 'Neither do I, but you don't need to apologize.'
Marcy leaned back, her eyes still molten with desire, and smiled a little tremulously. 'I don't think anyone has ever done that to me before.'
Blair laughed, a little stronger this time. 'You mean teased you quite so unmercifully? Maybe I should apologize.'
Marcy shook her head vehemently, running one finger along the edge of Blair's jaw. 'Oh no, don't even think of it. What I meant was, no one has ever made me so hot so fast. No one ever made me lose my mind like that.'
Blair stepped sideways enough to put space between them. 'I didn't mean to do that. It took me a little by surprise too.'
Marcy brushed her shoulder length blond hair back with a still trembling hand. 'I think we should go back into the other room. I seem to be dangerous out here.'
Blair took her hand in a friendly but not intimate gesture, and laughed. 'A very good idea, Dr. Coleman.'
'I'd like that to happen again,' Marcy said just before they rejoined the others. 'Somewhere, some time, when we won't have to stop.'
Blair did not look back, and she did not answer.
Blair watched Marcy approach and shrugged again. 'I don't think I sent her any kind of message at all. Nothing happened.'
'That's not the way she tells it,' Diane said off-handedly. 'To hear her, you are the answer to a woman's dreams. She appears to be in danger of spontaneous combustion just from being in the same room as you.'
'I can't help that,' Blair said in irritation. 'I can't control what other people fantasize.'
Diane nodded, following Blair through the crowd toward the start line. 'I absolutely agree, Blair,' Diane responded, her tone uncharacteristically serious. 'I like her, though. I like you, too.'
Blair looked at her directly, a challenge in her eyes. 'You have a point here?'
'I thought I did,' Diane said. 'God knows, I'm the last one to give advice. Just be careful with her. Especially if you know there's no chance.'
Blair looked back, and just beyond Marcy, saw Cam. The contrast was striking - one blond, the other dark, sunlight and midnight. Her heart hammering, she said, 'I'm not sure of anything anymore.'
Stark glanced over at Savard and grimaced. She hoped her lithe companion, running effortlessly beside her, could not see her struggling to catch her breath.
Running - I hate running. Stupid form of exercise. Terrible for your feet. Murder on your knees. Give me a bike, or better yet - rollerblades.
Savard cast her a sideways look and grinned, a surprisingly charming grin, then called, 'Isn't this great?'
'Oh yeah, fabulous! Love it,' Stark replied, hoping that she sounded appropriately excited. No way was she going to let the FBI agent think she couldn't keep up. She'd run on bare feet first. Just to prove it, she picked up her pace a little bit.
'Could be worse duty,' Savard commented.Or worse company.
She was enjoying her posting with the Secret Service more than she had imagined. She missed the prevailing sense of urgency that permeated everything the FBI seemed to do, even if it was just a routine wire tap, but she couldn't deny that Roberts and her team ran a tight, organized operation. And she also had to admit that Paula Stark was an interesting combination of straight-arrow dedication and startling naivete. She couldn't help but wonder if her refreshingly unsophisticated counterpart really had no clue as to how attractive she was or the fact that other people might think so. Savard reminded herself to stop watching Stark's butt and keep her eyes on the main target, who, come to think of it, had a very nice butt herself.
