Her eyes burned, and her head was spinning.Fresh air. They needed fresh air. There was a window in the hallway a few steps down the spiral staircase. Marin would go and open it. Holding the dish towel to her mouth, she pushed on the door, but it was jammed.
No! Not today!
The old door had a tendency to stick. Marin had meant to have one of the carpenters look at it for months. She pushed again, using her shoulder this time, but no luck. Marin’s thoughts were beginning to scramble when Agent Hottie got to his feet and shoved her out of the way. Two swift kicks later, he had the door open. Marin didn’t wait around to thank him. Instead, she scrambled down the steps to the small window. But, she was only able to slide the window an inch before it became as stuck as the door. Dropping the towel, she tried to pull it open with both hands, yet it still wouldn’t budge. Marin opened her mouth to swear or scream, she wasn’t sure, but she was overcome by a coughing spasm instead.
Tears of frustration and fear were running down her cheeks when suddenly, two hands gripped her own on the window. Together they tugged it wide open. Wheezing from the smoke, Marin thrust her head outside and gulped in a mouthful of fresh air. It wasn’t until her lungs started to clear that she realized there was a hard body pressed up against hers from behind. She glanced to her left and nearly collided with Agent Hottie’s cheek. From this close distance, she could see his eyes were the same blue color as the waters of the Caribbean.Smooth and tempting. He sucked in deep breaths of the fresh air and Marin could feel every expansion and contraction of his chest against her back. The shrill sound of the smoke alarm faded into the distance as they relaxed into one another as though their bodies were intimately familiar.
Their breathing was returning to normal when a line of people hurried up the stairs behind them. Rather than step back, the agent pressed closer into her. His palms were on the wall, bracketing her body, shielding her from being jostled by the agents and staff converging on the pastry kitchen.
“You okay?” he asked, so close, his breath fanned her ear.
Marin wasn’t sure whether it was the effect of the fire or his nearness that kept her speechless, but all she could do was nod.
“Good.” He pushed away from the wall—and her body. “Stay.”
Clearly, he was one of those men who thought his good looks gave him permission to dictate to others—women in particular. Except Marin wasn’t like most women. He’d gone two steps before Marin finally found her voice. “Like hell I will,” she choked out as she charged after him. “That’s my kitchen.”
He wisely refrained from issuing any more arrogant commands, but he wore a bemused expression when she slid by him on the narrow stairs. Neither of them got very far, however. The small room was crowded with members of the Secret Service’s Emergency Response Team, an assistant usher, and Diego who was breathing into an oxygen mask one of the officers had brought with them.
“Diego, are you all right?” Marin shoved into the room and rushed to her friend’s side.
“My sticky buns!” Lillie exclaimed when she stepped from the elevator. “What happened?”
“That’s what I’d like to know,” the admiral announced as he made his way into the room from the opposite direction.
Diego pulled the mask off his face. “What was in those damn buns?” he croaked.
“Nothing unusual. I just ran downstairs for a minute.” Lillie’s tone was a bit defensive. “I needed to check on the dinner preparations for the First Family.” She glanced at Agent Hottie. “You said you’d watch them.”
The heads of everyone in the room turned to stare at him. His mouth was set in a grim line.
“Agent Keller?” the admiral asked.
“Everything happened pretty quickly.” Agent Keller maneuvered between the assembled crowd and took a few steps toward the oven. “But I don’t think it was the buns.” He crouched down next to one of the other agents inspecting the charred oven. “The fire sparked to life too quickly and was too intense.”
“It looks like it started in the circuitry,” the other agent said, shining a flashlight on something at the back of the oven. “They build these appliances like little robots, nowadays. This one must have decided to go rogue on us.”
“Lillie’s sticky buns have that effect on men and machines,” Diego joked before he doubled over with another coughing fit.
“That’s it. Any investigating and cleanup can be handled by my staff. Chef Marin and Mr. Ruiz, I want you both in the physician’s office immediately,” the admiral commanded. He gestured to the assistant usher. “Peters, take them downstairs and don’t let them leave until the doctor gives them the okay. You, too, Agent Keller.”
Agent Keller hesitated, planting his hands on his hips. “Nothing gets cleaned up until Agent Seager from our forensic unit takes a look at that oven.”
Marin watched in fascination at the nonverbal exchange between the Secret Service agent and the admiral. Since she’d arrived at the White House, she hadn’t seen anyone countermand one of the admiral’s orders so directly. Clearly, Agent Hottie was an outsider. One who didn’t mind committing career suicide. To her fascination, though, the admiral simply cocked an eyebrow at the agent, before nodding brusquely.
“How long will that take?” Marin interjected urgently. “I can’t wait around for days. I need this room cleaned up as quickly as possible so I can prepare for Monday’s Easter egg roll.”
Both men stared at her with identical looks of exasperation.
“Chef Marin,” the admiral said, his tone placating, “it will take several days to replace the oven if we are lucky. In the meantime, I will make every effort to ensure you have the proper equipment to perform your duties. Until then, I’d like you to report to the physician’s office immediately. Please.”
Swallowing an exasperated huff, Marin took Diego’s arm and guided him toward the elevator. Peters held the door open for them both.
“Coming, Agent Keller?” she called out, matching her tone to his smug look.
The admiral nodded toward the elevator. The agent muttered something to one of the other agents before joining her. Diego’s ragged cough filled the small chamber as they traveled down to the ground floor. When the doors slid open, Executive Chef Samuels was waiting to greet them.
“Jesus, Marin, if you didn’t want Lillie invading your turf, you could have just spoken up,” he joked. His face blanched when Diego was overcome with another coughing fit, however.