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Epilogue

EPILOGUE

The three Bohemian cut-glass chandeliers hanging from the ceiling of the White House’s East Room shimmered above tuxedoed butlers carrying silver trays of champagne flutes through the crowd. Standing at attention next to Gilbert Stuart’s iconic painting of George Washington, Griffin tried to appear inconspicuous as he kept watch over the event.

“You do realize that you are a guest in the House this evening, Agent Keller,” Admiral Sedgewick said when he joined Griffin along the wall. “You don’t have to keep watch over the president. You are allowed to mingle.”

Griffin hadn’t laid eyes on the president the entire evening. Or the First Lady. He’d only had eyes for one person. A statuesque blonde in a stunning red gown who seemed to be floating around the room.

The admiral followed Griffin’s gaze. The man’s mouth turned up at the corners when he, too, spied Marin. “This was an amazing thing she did. Wes would be humbled by the collection the chef pulled together in his honor.”

The late curator would be just one of many who were in awe of Marin’s talents. In the absence of a permanent White House curator, Marin had been doing double duty as both executive pastry chef and steward of the mansion’s vast inventory of artwork. Tonight’s black-tie reception was the culmination of months of work.

She wanted to do something to recognize Wes’s contributions to the White House. But this evening was about more than that. All he had to do was glance around the room and see the proud smiles worn by the family of Arnold, the Dupont’s late doorman, as they mingled with the famous dignitaries in attendance. Or Seth’s parents as they shook hands with President Manning. Tonight was primarily about Marin casting away much of the faultless guilt she carried around.

“She’s got a big decision to make,” the admiral murmured.

Griffin’s head snapped around at his words. He stared incredulously at the man standing beside him. How did the admiral know? Griffin’s fingers slid over the small blue pouch tucked inside his suit jacket. Griffin had only told one person about his plans. And that little imp had proven herself very reliable at keeping secrets. She had a room full of stuffed animals to prove it.

“The White House Historical Society would love for Chef Marin to take the job as the full-time curator.” The admiral looked at him quizzically. “What did you think I was talking about?”

He was relieved when his parents joined them, so he didn’t have to respond to the admiral.

“Oh, Griffin, what an amazing night,” his mother said, her smile beaming. “I can’t believe I’m actually here. I have to keep pinching myself.”

“I’m glad you could come,” he said as he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “You look beautiful.”

“You should see our suite at the Chevalier,” his father added. “Not too shabby. We may never leave. And to top it off, the president gave me a private tour of the presidential putting green. I can’t wait until the guys at the club see the pictures.”

“Don’t forget to show the guys at the club the pictures of the White House pastry kitchen,” Marin teased as she slipped into their circle. “I hope you tell them seeing it was your favorite part of the trip.”

Griffin’s father wrapped an arm around Marin just as his mother tucked her arm through Marin’s on her other side. His chest squeezed at the sight of the most important person in his life enveloped by the two people he’d foolishly believed he would always love the most.

“That apple turnover was my favorite part of the trip,” his father said with a wink. “I’m still trying to figure out how to get one to go.”

“Oh, I think your son might be able to negotiate a sweet deal for you. Rumor has it, he’s on very good terms with the executive pastry chef.” Marin grinned at Griffin mischievously.

His mouth went dry just looking at her. She was positively glowing tonight. In six months, the physical wounds had healed. But the emotional scars were still lurking beneath the surface. There had been many nights when he had been awakened by her nightmares. But he was always there to protect her, to comfort her, holding her in her sleep. And if things went his way tonight, he always would be.

“Mr. and Mrs. Keller,” the admiral said. “I don’t believe you’ve had a tour of the West Wing. Would you be interested in seeing the Oval Office?”

Griffin’s parents tried to appear cool about the admiral’s offer, but he knew them well enough to know they were thrilled. His mom could barely contain her glee.

“We’ll see you two later,” she said with a wave as they followed the admiral out of the room.

Marin and Griffin were as alone as they could be in a room filled with over a hundred people. She sauntered closer until she was a scant inch from his body. With a sly smile, she reached up to adjust the angle of his tuxedo’s bow tie.

“So how is my favorite G-Man tonight?” she asked softly. “The way you’ve been hugging that wall all evening, it looks like you miss being in the Secret Service. Are the cases at the Treasury Department not as stimulating as potentially taking a bullet for the president?”

He trailed a finger along her bare arm. Marin sucked in a breath at his touch.

“I love working at the Treasury,” Griffin said. He wasn’t lying; he did love working as a treasury agent. “Especially since my new job keeps me in DC with you. Tonight, I was ‘hugging the wall’ as you say so I could enjoy the scenery.”

Marin tugged him forward by his lapels so that their hips came into contact with one another. Griffin swallowed a rough groan.

“Nonsense,” she whispered. “You weren’t looking at any of the artwork. You’ve spent the past hour trailing me around the room with your eyes.”

“The very definition of what constitutes artwork is in the eye of the beholder.” He leaned forward and touched his lips to the tip of her nose. “And my eyes know what they like.”

“Take me home.”

Her sultry plea had his heart racing and the zipper of his pants causing him great pain. As much as Griffin wanted to take her up on her offer, he had other plans that needed to be executed first.

“We can’t leave yet,” he said. He maneuvered them out of sight behind one of the lighted ornamental trees. “Not while the dignitaries are still here.”

She nipped at his jawline. “It’s my party. I can leave whenever I want. And I want to go home. With you. Right now.” Her eyes were bright with passion and Griffin was having a difficult time remembering where they were much less what his plans were.

“Take me home,” she purred. “I promise I’ll let you touch my artwork. I might even let you taste it.”

Griffin was so bamboozled, he couldn’t think straight. He took her hand in his and not so gently led her through the crowd toward the exit. Marin giggled behind him. Heedless of the marine guards and other Secret Service agents standing at attention in the massive Center Hall, Griffin pulled Marin behind one of the marble columns and took her mouth in a demanding kiss. One Marin responded to with equal enthusiasm.

“Okay, you win,” Griffin said when he came up for air. “Let’s go home.”

A child’s giggle interrupted their flight toward the front door, however. Marin stopped in her tracks, turning toward the Grand Staircase. Dressed in a frilly nightgown, Arabelle sat halfway up the stairs, her fuzzy pink slippers clashing with the bright red carpet. Otto obediently waited at her side stoically enduring the feather boa his young playmate had wrapped around his neck.

“Arabelle,” Marin said. “What are you still doing up?”

The little girl scrambled to her feet. “I’m going to bed right now. I just had to give Agent Keller a message.”

Arabelle attempted a wink but failed miserably. She gave him a thumbs-up instead. Griffin stifled a laugh at the little girl’s enthusiasm. Marin shot him a questioning glance when Arabelle and Otto disappeared around the corner.

Griffin tugged her toward the stairs. “Come on,” he said. “We’re sticking with the original plan. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to admire your artwork later this evening.”

“There’s a plan?”

They rounded the corner leading up to the residence floor. “Yeah,” he admitted, feeling a bit sheepish. “But I keep getting distracted by the scenery.”

She smiled coyly as she squeezed his hand. Griffin led her through the double glass doors at the top of the stair landing, across the Center Hall and into the Yellow Oval Room. Marin sighed with pleasure when she crossed the threshold.

“You do know this is probably my favorite room in the White House,” she said.

“Mm. You might have mentioned it a few times.”

Marin pulled her hand free and gravitated toward a colorful antique toy truck in one of the bookcases. She trailed a finger along its tire.

“Did you know this belonged to Calvin Coolidge’s son? He died here in the White House.” A melancholy look crossed her face.

Griffin quickly moved to intercept her before she explored more of the room. “Can I show you my favorite part of the White House?”

“I didn’t know you had one.” She tucked her hand under his arm as Griffin led them out onto the Truman Balcony.

The warm autumn breeze lifted the hem of her dress when she stepped over the threshold. A yellow harvest moon hung just above the Washington Monument, dotting it like a lowercase i. Marin drifted over to the railing and sighed at the view.

“This is a wonderful part of the House,” she said with a nod. “The view is stunning.”

“Yes,” Griffin said, his eyes firmly fixed on Marin. “It is.”

She peeked over her shoulder at him. Her smile dimmed when she saw the ice bucket of champagne and two glasses. Griffin’s breath stilled in his lungs at her reaction.

“Griffin, we have to go. I think Aunt Harriet and Uncle Conrad have plans out here.”

Chuckling with relief, Griffin closed the distance between them. “I had dibs on it first.”

He wrapped his arms loosely around her waist pulling her body up against his.

“You did?” she asked.

“Remember when I told you I wanted you the first time I saw you in the pastry kitchen?”

Marin blushed and nodded.

“Well, I fell in love with you out here, on this balcony. On our first date.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t the ravioli?” she teased.

Griffin pretended to ponder her question, and she smacked him on the chest. His throat suddenly became clogged with emotion.

“This is where it all started,” he said. “So it is where I wanted to make it official.”

He pulled the velvet Tiffany’s pouch out of his pocket. Marin’s eye’s widened, and her hands shook against his chest. The diamond ring sparkled in the moonlight when Griffin lifted it from the pouch.

“Marin Chevalier, I couldn’t not kiss you. Just as I couldn’t not love you. And I definitely can’t not spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”

Years later, Griffin wouldn’t remember what Marin actually said. Just that with the stunning panorama of Washington DC behind her, she kissed him with reckless abandon and made him the happiest man alive.

* * *

I hope you enjoyed Griffin and Marin’s story. Are you curious about what’s next for the guys? You can read Adam’s story, Shot in the Dark, by clicking here. And Ben’s adventure, Between Love and Honor by clicking here.

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You can meet the rest of the Baltimore Blaze here:

Game On– A grumpy hero romance

Foolish Games– A secret baby romance

Risky Game– A fake relationship romance

Sleeping with the Enemy– team owner Jay MacManus’ second chance love story

Want more football? Meet the Milwaukee Growlers:

Just for Kicks– A marriage of convenience rom-com

Double Dog Dare– An enemies-to-lovers rom-com

Do you like books about small towns and big families?

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Back to Before - a second chance romance

All They Ever Wanted– an enemies-to-lovers romance

Second Chance Christmas – a sister’s best friend, older woman, younger man romance

It Had to Be You – single dad falls for the nanny romance

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