Chapter 13

 

The romance continued on Friday. Whitney had slept in, and when she awoke, she found a note that said, “Had some errands. Be back ASAP.” So she climbed out of bed, did her morning routine and put in a load of laundry. She checked her family’s Facebook pages, then drew a warm bath with bubbles in it. As the water ran, a memory came. She’d heard someone say, maybe Isabelle, she couldn’t take baths that were too hot during pregnancy. So Whitney adjusted the temperature. As she stepped into the tub, she wondered what other things, safety things, she needed to know about her condition. She’d have to go online and check that out.

After several minutes, she heard from the foyer, “Whitney, I’m back. Didn’t want to scare you.”

“In the tub,” she called out.

Rustling in the bedroom, then he appeared in the doorway. His dark hair was tousled by the wind and a beard scraped his jaw. The slate blue sweater he wore accented the color of his eyes. Stonewashed jeans and boots completed the casual outfit.

He gave her a sexy smile. “Well, if you aren’t a sight for sore eyes, all warm and flushed, wrapped up in those bubbles.”

She said, “I was kind of thinking the same thing. You look great.”

“You look delicious.” He crossed to the tub, leaned over and kissed her. Then he took a seat on the closed lid of the toilet. “Want some company in there?”

“Are you kidding? I’m still sore from last night. Now, that was delicious.”

“It wasn’t too much?”

“It was perfect. Where’d you go?”

“Errands. How do you feel today?”

He sat with her a while longer, then left to call his dad. The warm water lulled her, soothed her, so that she drifted into a half-awake, half-asleep state. When she felt chilled, she realized she’d been in the bath too long. She rose carefully, got out, dried off and dressed herself in a long terry robe. Maybe Max could make a fire and they could stay in all day, which normally she wasn’t prone to do. For a second, she panicked. A baby, commitment to Max would change her life drastically. But she breathed deeply instead of giving in to the anxiety, as Eve had instructed, focused on all the positive aspects of her choices and calmed down.

When she walked into the bedroom, she saw the fruits of Max’s errands strewn on the bed. She picked up some wispy soft lingerie. The grayish material slithered between her fingers. And it matched a gorgeous silvery cocktail dress next to the underwear. The outfit was strapless and shimmered in the light. She checked the size and found it was hers. A matching simple jacket beneath it. There were even flat-heeled silver pumps. Holding the dress up, she turned to the mirror and caught sight of Max leaning up against the jamb, his arms folded over his chest.

“All this is lovely. What made you shop for me?”

“I realized yesterday, when I got the flowers, that more romantic gestures were in order since we have years to make up for. These are the clothes you’re going to wear tonight at Marcel’s.” One of the most upscale, expensive restaurants in D.C.

“You got a reservation there?”

He chuckled, a lusty sound. “Believe it or not, the maître d’ used to be a student in my father’s English class. He loved Dad, and was at the hospital with his wife, who was having another baby, while my father was still there. They chatted. When Dad found out what I wanted to do, he called the guy. Hence, the reservation.”

Her heart swelled with joy at the trouble he went to for her. “Aren’t we lucky ducks?”

“You can say that again.”

“Shall I put the dress on for you now? Make sure it fits?”

“Nah, I know these things. I’ll see it later.” From the dresser, he picked up a plastic bag. “I got you another gift, two really. But I’m hesitant about these.”

“Porno DVDs?”

He shook his head.

“Sex toys?”

“As if, now that you’re pregnant.”

“What, then?”

Closing the distance between them, he handed her the bag. The contents were heavy. She slid out what was inside. Two books. When she read the titles, she understood. What to Expect When You’re Expecting and The First Twelve Months of Life.

“If it’s too soon to be reading these, I can save them for later.”

“No, not at all. Great minds think alike.”

o0o

She took his breath away, sitting across from him in that dress. The restaurant was lovely, of course, with its angled ceilings, starburst chandeliers, and silky white tablecloths, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“You’re staring.” She’d removed the jacket and now tugged at the top of the dress. “It’s too small here and on my rear end.”

“Just the way I wanted. And it’s stunning on you.” To complement the outfit, she’d swept her hair in some kind of casual knot, with little tendrils floating down from the mass. She’d also taken the time to put on makeup and sparkly silver earrings. Whitney wasn’t a fusser and he hadn’t seen her so decked out often.

“Thank you, Max. It was very thoughtful of you to shop for me.” She gave him a once-over. “New suit?”

“Yeah. When we wear these clothes throughout our lives, we’ll always remember tonight.”

“Are we celebrating my decision?”

He picked up her hand and kissed her knuckles. “And us getting married.”

Practically choking on the sparkling water she’d taken a sip of, she said, “Married? Did we talk about this?”

“No. We are now.”

Her eyes narrowed as if she was getting ready to argue with him about his high-handedness, if nothing else. “All right.”

“All right?” Her reaction totally shocked him. “That’s all you have to say?”

Her eyes widened. “What did you want, romance?”

He gestured to the subdued interior. “Um, yeah, I guess.”

Linking their fingers, she gave him a tender smile. “I’ll marry you, Max, and live with you always. I’ll raise this baby with you and work with you and play with you. We’ll have a full, messy life and I’ll do my best to solve my issues so that can happen.”

“Well.” He was too choked up to say more.

“You’re not going to go all teary on me, are you?”

He cleared his throat. “Of course not. I love you too, Whitney.”

When the moment passed, she nodded to the menu. “I don’t have any idea what to order.”

“Dad and I have eaten here before. I’ll order for you.”

“Okay.”

He studied the food list. “How’s your stomach?”

“Growling.”

“No, I mean how fancy can I get?”

“You know, I haven’t been sick or even nauseous for a while.”

“Now we’re together.” His tone was regretful. “Before that it was my fault.”

“No more, Max. We’re done with recriminations on every level.”

After deciding on food, Max motioned the waiter over to their table. “Are you ready sir?”

“Yes, we’ll each have white asparagus and green pea soup. Then sundried tomatoes and cheese potato cake. For my main course, I’ll have bison, medium rare, with crispy potatoes, and she’ll have the lamb loin.”

“Will you order dessert now?”

“Hmm. Chocolate-chip cheesecake and honey-ricotta ice cream.” After the waiter left, he asked, “How does that sound?”

“Terrific.”

“Not as terrific as what you said before we ordered.”

“God, you do know how to be romantic, don’t you?”

o0o

“You look better, kiddo.” This from Nick, who moved with ease through the small group assembled in the White House living quarters.

“Thanks. You clean up nice, too.”

He tugged on the tie. “I don’t have to wear one of these at work anymore.” He’d taken the job at the training center with Gabe, and they were both at the helm of a new program for police officers. He angled his head to her other cousin, also wearing a suit, who stood across the room. “Him, either.” She noticed Gabe digging his finger into his shirt collar, trying to loosen it. “Didn’t take long to spoil us.”

Whitney thought about the changes she was going to make in her work life. “You both like your new jobs, right?”

“Yep. Who knew?”

She watched him for a few seconds. “Do you miss being in the kill zone?”

He motioned to Isabelle, the birthday girl, sitting on a couch, her rounded belly accented by the sparkly green sheath she wore, head bent to her brother Jim, aka the President of the United States. “Sometimes, I do. Gabe and I decided we should admit that. But we’re both satisfied with our choices. Having her, those hooligans in the corner”—he motioned to their boys, Ryan and Jamie, who played with Simon, Gabe’s son—“and the twins that are coming makes my sacrifice worth it.” He touched her arm. “Nothing’s a hundred percent. I’ve learned that.”

She’d been feeling like she’d hit the hundred-percent mark with Max, but she didn’t say anything about their situation. They would tell the family next weekend, after her doctor’s appointment. Maybe they’d put the video of the sonogram, if they had one, in a DVD player and surprise everybody that way.

“I lost you.” He smirked, his dark eyes devilish. “You’re moonstruck, you know.”

“I am.” Across the room, Max talked with the First Lady. He’d guarded her more than once. “So is he. Don’t tell him I told you this, but he’s turned into a sap about us.”

“He’s getting you, isn’t he? He should turn into mush. I did, with Isabelle, Gabe with Macy. For a long time, I couldn’t believe we were together. I still thank my lucky stars to this day.”

“That’s nice, Nick. I’m not sure I ever heard you talk about a woman like that.”

“She ain’t no ordinary woman, kiddo.” They both looked around the White House and laughed.

“No, she’s not.”

When Nick left to check on the boys, she saw Max motioning her over. She rose and joined them. “Hello, Mrs. Manwaring.”

“Whitney, how nice to see you again.” Whitney had pitched in on some details at the White House, too, so they’d met. She knew right away then why her code name was Sunshine. “And now that we’re family, you should call me Karen, and him, Jim.”

“Oh, wow, I’m not sure…that would take some getting used to.”

“Max said the same thing. But now that we have a personal relationship, you two won’t be assigned any White House duties.”

“A small price to pay, I think.” Max smiled lovingly at Whitney. No one in their family or in the government knew yet that neither of them would be working any kind of protection or undercover again.

POTUS, or Pitbull, crossed to them. He sat down next to his wife, like an ordinary guy, and slid his arm around her. Whitney remembered seeing their affection for the first time on the job and how she was taken aback. But now, she loved witnessing it.

“So, how are two of my favorite people?” he asked Whitney and Max.

Max’s eyes glimmered. “We couldn’t be better.”

“You both look…happy.”

“We are happy.”

“Sorry that your other brother, Declan, couldn’t come down for this.”

“He’s got his hands full with three girls, a job, and his National Guard duties.”

The president smiled. “You all are something else.”

Mrs. Manwaring elbowed him. “I was telling them they need to call us by our first names, but they’re wary.”

“None of the Marinos, and I include you in that, Max, will be on White House details. So why not?”

Whitney said, “It feels strange.”

The president said, “You’ll get used to it.”

“We will,” Max told him.

“So, I hear you were instrumental in solving the Social Security bomb case.”

Max sat back. “We were only doing our jobs.”

“Yeah, you guys always say that. But, good work.”

“Thanks.” Whitney still couldn’t add, “Jim.”

President Manwaring took a sip of his wine. “You know, neither of you has called in your chips.”

“Our chips?” Max’s brow furrowed. He really didn’t remember.

“I told you when you two were invaluable during Isabelle’s situation that if ever you needed anything I can help with, it’s yours.”

“That’s kind of you, sir. But not necessary.”

“That’s ‘kind of you, Jim,’” the president said, laughing heartily.

At dinner, Whitney was seated next to Gabe. He slid his arm around her and sipped his wine before dinner was served. “How come you’re not drinking, sweetie? Stomach still upset?”

“No. Actually my gut’s been okay. Last night, I ate at Marcel’s and the food was fancy. I tolerated it well.”

“Huh.” He leaned over, as Max, on the other side of her, caught his gaze. “Nice to see you’re spoiling her after what you put her through.”

“I am. I am, I swear.”

“You’d better.” Gabe attempted to sound threatening. He was a tough agent, but when it came to his family he was a real softie.

After dinner, Isabelle came down the side of the table and asked, “Whitney, would you come to the ladies’ room with me?”

That was odd. “Sure.”

She’d been in the residence guest bathroom but never used it, of course. She still marveled at the marble and intricate woodworking, and its size, fit for…well, a president. “I need to use the facilities, too.”

After they both did their business, she found Isabelle on one of the lounges. “Sit for a minute.” When Whitney joined her, Isabelle asked, “Doing okay?”

“Better than.”

“Those blotches on your face are gone. Was I wrong last weekend?”

Whitney blurted out, “No, you weren’t wrong. I’m almost twelve weeks pregnant.”

“Oh, honey, how fun will this be. My little ones will have a playmate their age.”

Surprised that panic didn’t ensue at Isabelle’s off-the-cuff response, she said, “Cool.”

“Is there a reason you haven’t told your cousins?”

“My twelve-week appointment is Wednesday. I thought I’d wait till after that.”

“I did, too. Have you had any pain, bleeding?”

“Nothing. My symptoms have practically disappeared.”

“That happens in the second trimester.” She smiled conspiratorially. “You could make the announcement at the White House tonight.”

“I wouldn’t want to steal your birthday thunder.”

“Please steal it. I hate being the center of attention. Think of the story the baby will have to tell for the rest of his or her life.”

“I’d love to see my cousins’ faces.”

“Then tonight would be perfect.”

When they returned to their seats, and before dessert, Isabelle stood. “Time for a toast.”

“Babe,” Nick said in a stage whisper. “You’re not supposed to toast yourself.”

“I’m not giving it. Someone else is.”

Then Whitney stood. With her hand on Max’s shoulder, she took in a breath and made yet another leap of faith. “I didn’t want to steal Isabelle’s spotlight tonight, but she insisted. Everybody, Max and I are getting married.” Gasps down the table. “And we’re also going to have a baby.”

o0o

The weekend had been busy. They spent time on Saturday afternoon and Sunday with his father, who was in his own room but chomping at the bit to get home. So much had happened with Whitney, too, that Max could hardly think straight as they drove to work together. She held his hand across the console. She’d been more demonstrative after their commitment. As if she could trust him with her heart, finally. He grinned, even now, at her announcement Saturday night, but let her make up for not consulting him in bed this morning.

“What’s the expression for?”

“Nothing. Everything.”

“I know what you mean.”

“What time is your counseling appointment today?”

“Noon. I’ll grab food on the way back.”

“So, now that you’ve told your family you’re eating for two, are we telling Drew? Because if we are, I’d like some warning on this one.”

“Hmm,” she said mischievously. “Let me think about it.”

They saw Angela Grimes as soon they entered the Secret Service headquarters. She’d gone through security and stopped to talk to someone so they came upon her without warning.

“Hi, Angela, Patrick,” Max said to her and to the counterfeit operative they’d both worked with.

Whitney greeted them, too.

Patrick rushed off for a meeting and Angela faced them. Studied him. “I can see by your faces you’ve worked things out. I wish I could say I’m happy for you, but I’m still pretty raw.”

“I am sorry.” This from Max.

Whitney put in, “I wish you hadn’t gotten hurt, Angela. Truly.”

“I believe both of you. Again, make this work. Your relationship came at great cost to me.” She turned and walked away.

Max felt like a slug.

Sensing it, Whitney squeezed his arm. “We’ll be sorry, and discreet, for her sake, but there’s nothing we can do about having hurt her.”

“I hurt her.”

“No, we both should have done things differently.”

Inside the Threat Assessment Center, the receptionist informed them that Drew wanted to see them as soon as they arrived. After they ditched their stuff, they went to his office. The door was ajar. Max knocked lightly.

“Come on in.”

“Hi, Drew.”

“Hey, boss.”

“Whitney. Max. How’s your dad?”

“He’s recovering.” He thought of Lorelei and the tender care she was giving him. On Sunday, his father had been happy as a clam.

“I’m glad you two have had some time to rest. You were both ragged even before your father’s attack.”

“We’re fine now.” This from Whitney.

“I have some news. The Social Security case is over. The FBI caught all the players.”

“Tell us,” Whitney said.

“They tracked the unexploded bombs to workers at each Social Security location. We did some analysis over the weekend for them, and so did their people. They were able to ferret out the ring you two uncovered through the reenactment group.”

“How many were there?” Max asked.

“Five. The four people who left the bombs and a head guy the FBI picked up this morning. They’re getting confessions left and right.”

“All in all, this didn’t take long,” Max commented.

“No, but with bombings, we have to act fast. You two certainly pulled through. The director is a happy man.”

“Do we get a raise?” Whitney joked.

“No, but I’ll give you a lot of leeway on what you do next. We just got handed a great case in counterfeit. They need a couple to go undercover as married in order to do legwork. Do you want it, or do you still want to split as partners?”

“Neither.” Max checked with her and she nodded. “We have some news.”

“Don’t tell me you’re both leaving.”

“No. We’d like to stay here, both of us, and be partners. But we want out of the field.”

“For how long?”

“For good, we think.”

Drew’s expression was puzzled. “I don’t understand. You two love field work and protection. What aren’t you telling me?”

“First off,” Whitney said, “we’re getting married.”

Drew’s jaw dropped.

“And we’re going to be parents.” Max enjoyed Drew’s shock. “So we want to stay in threat assessment and work on investigations from here only.”

“Incredible.”

“We know,” they said together.

Once Drew recovered, they told him only choice bits and pieces of what had happened in the last two weeks, then left the office. Drew said he’d do what he could to change their status, but Max remembered Jim Manwaring’s promise Saturday night, so he wasn’t worried.

On their way to their own offices, Max sighed. “Boy, we’ve burned our bridges now.”

“Yeah, we have.” She bumped him with her shoulder. “You’d better not ditch me again, big guy.”

“I’ll never ditch you again.”

“Some goes for me. I’m in this for the long haul.” She grinned, “And I couldn’t be happier.”