“Still here?” he asked, trying to appear nonchalant.
“I’m headed home now.”
Dark shadows had begun to form beneath her eyes, and her body looked weary from the long day on her feet. She was making his plan way too easy to execute.
“I’ve got an Uber coming to take me to my hotel. It’s two blocks from your place,” he said. “Let me give you a lift.”
She studied him thoughtfully. “You always seem to be around to rescue people. Me in particular. I’d love a ride home. Thank you.”
They made their way out of the White House into the warm spring night. The Uber was waiting at the northeast gate. Marin closed her eyes as soon as she hit the seat and Griffin did his best to snuff out that feeling of tenderness she kept stirring up inside of him. Reminding himself for the hundredth damn time she was a suspect, he focused his gaze out the window as the car began to move.
“Sitting may have been a bad idea,” she murmured. “I don’t know if I can make it up to my apartment.”
He smiled smugly to himself. “Don’t worry. I’ll carry you up if I have to.”
When they reached Dupont Circle, however, Marin was able to walk into her apartment building without any help. Griffin followed her into the somber lobby. Apparently, most of the residents called it a night early on Saturdays.
“Chef Marin,” the guy at the concierge desk called as she blindly walked past him.
It wasn’t the same boisterous doorman who’d greeted them last night. In fact, this guy wore a gray uniform of one of the maintenance staff rather than the bright doorman’s uniform.
“You have a package,” the guy told her.
Marin blinked twice seemingly trying to orient herself. “Oh. Hey there, Seth. What are you doing working the desk tonight? Where’s Arnold?”
“You haven’t heard?” The guy at the desk looked down at his lap. He struggled to swallow. “He—he, uh, he had a heart attack earlier this evening.”
Griffin caught Marin just as her knees began to buckle. “Please tell me he’s going to be okay,” she cried.
Maintenance guy’s eyes drifted away again. He shook his head. Marin let out a sob.
Griffin gathered her up in his arms, taking the package from her hands and shoving it in her backpack as he steered her to the elevator. “Come on. Let’s get you upstairs.”
She clung to him, silently crying, as they rode up to the penthouse. Griffin pulled her key out of the pocket of her backpack and opened the door. Marin hurried over to a side table and grabbed a tissue while he dropped her backpack on the same chair where she had put it the night before.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her back to him. “I don’t know what has come over me. But this week—Wes. The fire. Anika. And now this. I’m not sure how much more I can take.” She turned around and gave him a watery smile. “Thank you,again, for being here when I needed someone. You’ve been so kind to me. And dinner, it was amazing and so sweet.”
Tears began streaming down her cheeks again.
Griffin’s head was telling him to say “you’re welcome” and get the hell out of Dodge, but his feet weren’t listening. Instead, they seemed to be moving toward her as though there was an invisible tether connecting them.
She drew in another ragged breath when he stopped inches from her. “I’m usually not one of those women who dissolve into hysterics.”
“Shh. Like you said, it’s been a pretty shitty week.” He reached up and fanned his fingers on the sides of her face, gently pulling her body closer to his.
Her hands seemed to float between them, hesitating briefly, before they landed softly on his chest. He stifled a groan at the contact.
“Arnold was going to take his grandchildren to the White House on Monday,” she whispered through her tears. “It’s so unfair.”
“I know,” he said as he bent down to brush his lips over her forehead.
This is all part of the role I’m playing, Griffin silently reminded himself. Any self-respecting guy would do the same to provide comfort to a woman he was interested in. He’d just kiss her on the head, pat her on the back, and send her off to bed.
Alone.
So why the hell had his lips found their way to the corner of her mouth? She tasted so damn good. Like sugar and lemons. He’d just take a taste of the other side of her mouth, then he could walk away.
Marin’s lips parted with a breathy sigh and, just like that, Griffin was a goner. He sealed his mouth over hers, swallowing up the keening sound of need that rose in the back of her throat. A wave of reckless desire spurred him on as he explored her mouth with a tactical thoroughness. She slid her tongue against his seductively causing his control to slip a notch more. When she shifted her body closer so she was practically his second skin, he gave up the game altogether and let his libido take control.