Married at Midnight

by Gerri Russell

  Connor stopped walking at the realization. His father was afraid for them. But fear did not have to guide a person’s life. Suddenly Connor wondered what his father’s fear had prevented him from doing. Had his father tried to find Mary Grayson? Where was she now? Had she started a new family? Or was she as damaged and alone as Connor and Clark?

  As the questions flooded his mind, Connor started walking again, changing his direction, heading toward the Twelfth Avenue police station. His friend Trevor, a detective with the Seattle Police Department, should be working. Trevor owed him more than one favor. Perhaps it was time to call one of those in.

  Trevor was good at finding people who didn’t want to be found.

  It was a long shot, locating a woman who’d vanished from their lives more than twenty years ago. But suddenly it felt like the right thing to do. Only time and a little investigative work would reveal the truth.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Two hours later, Connor returned home to find Ellie lying in bed awake. “I’m sorry, Ellie,” he said. The words were raw. No longer angry and desperate for the comfort of her touch, Connor slipped into bed beside her.

  Her response was a kiss that led to a long night of incredible sex.

  The next morning when the sun filtered through the bedroom window, Connor woke first. Needing to head to work, he finally summoned the strength to pull out of Ellie’s arms. He liked sharing a bed with her, liked their limbs damp and tangled after a night of lovemaking. He especially liked the way she looked in the aftermath—her expression serene, her hair a wild tumble, her skin aglow with warmth.

  Last night her voice had drifted through the darkness. “It’s so easy to forget about everything else when we’re like this.”

  “So easy,” he’d replied, knowing exactly what she referred to . . . the promise they’d made to stay uninvolved. Yet each night he spent in her arms brought him dangerously close to breaking their agreement. Part of him wanted to push her away, to keep his mental distance, and to put them back on more even ground that didn’t involve thoughts of her lying in their bed with a banked fire in her eyes. The other part of him was losing his grip on the situation. He wanted her with a need that went well beyond reason, making thoughts of giving her up excruciating.

  But he had to. The last ten days since they’d been married had proven to him that he couldn’t split his attention between two masters. He’d tried to keep both Ellie and his development team happy, responding to each of their needs, without success.

  He would have to choose.

  Regardless of what his body wanted, the choice had already been made. There was no room in his life for Ellie, not when he was so close to finalizing the artificial intelligence he needed to push his self-driving car into a realm above the rest. All that remained were a few more hours of coding and testing, and he’d be done.

  Lingering by the bedside, he looked down at the woman he cared about far more than he should. Her hair lay across her pillow in a tumbled mass. The featherlight weight had draped across his chest only moments before in a silken caress. With his next heartbeat, his decision faltered, replaced with the wish that they were two different people in a different life where they could be together.

  Ellie would be fine on her own with Grayson House. Because of her organizational skills, the refurbishment and preparations for the house’s showing were ahead of schedule. Most of the remaining tasks were design elements she had tucked away in that creative mind of hers.

  When he’d asked her last night about going into the lab from now until Thanksgiving, she’d responded with a casual, “That’s fine,” as though she didn’t care if he were gone, or she didn’t need him any longer.

  Connor turned away from the bed. He had to keep his focus on his work and nothing more. Quietly he dressed and headed out of the room. Morning sunshine lit his way down the staircase. At the top he paused at the sound of a cat hissing below.

  “Zanzibar?” Connor called as he took the stairs two at a time. At the bottom, he flicked the lights on to find the cat on top of the grandfather clock, the door to the pendulum swung open, and the foyer and parlor trashed.

  He reached up to the cat, and the nervous creature jumped willingly into his arms. He held the animal close, stroking his fur. “It’s okay,” he said, even as the back of his neck prickled. Was someone still in the house?

  With one hand, he plucked the red roses from a metal vase that lay on its side on the hall table, a puddle of water languishing on the floor beneath, then picked up the vase. Gripping the makeshift weapon in his hand, he set Zanzibar down and headed silently down the hallway. In the kitchen, the cupboards and drawers hung open, everything inside them askew. The contents of the trash can littered the floor, as did the decorating supplies Ellie had left on the table. Greenery, flowers, and Christmas ornaments were everywhere, making the kitchen look as though Christmas had exploded within its walls.

  With the crunch of broken ornaments beneath his feet, Connor moved through the living room, family room, and dining room to discover they hadn’t been spared. The furnishings were turned on their sides and upside down. How had he and Ellie not heard anything during the night with this kind of destruction?

  He growled as the answer came to him. It was because they’d been upstairs in bed and otherwise occupied.

  “Who would do such a thing?” Ellie’s voice came from behind him.

  He turned around. At her wide-eyed stare, he lowered his weapon and set it on the ground. “I don’t know. Judging by the kitchen, I’d say it’s someone who doesn’t want us to finish the house.”

  A soft meow came from Connor’s feet. He bent and scratched the cat behind the ears while he studied Ellie. Confusion clouded her brown eyes.

  “The decorations are ruined, but that doesn’t mean we can’t purchase more. If they were truly trying to stop us—” She gasped, turned, and raced for the foyer.

  Before he caught up with her, she was out the front door. She jerked to a stop on the sidewalk, examining the exterior of the house in the pale morning light. “No damage,” she said, her chest heaving. “Thank goodness, the house is fine.”

  “Then what was this all about?”

  Seconds ticked past as they made their way back inside. “Does it look like anything is missing?”

  Her gaze traveled over each room’s contents as they wandered through them once more. “Nothing appears to be missing. Aside from antiques, Viola doesn’t really have much of great value in the house.”

  Her voice hung in the air between them. Great value?

  His research.

  The thought stopped him in his tracks. His lab was secure. Maybe that was why someone had broken into his home instead. Not that he’d ever be such a fool as to leave such important work in an unsecure location.

  A crash sounded from upstairs.

  Connor raced up the stairs and toward the sound that had come from the master bedroom. Ellie followed in his wake. Inside the room, the paintings were askew and the furniture tipped over like below.

  His heart pounded. He drew a breath, trying to keep his anger and frustration at bay. He needed a clear head to figure this all out.

  “The robber was just up here.” Ellie’s breath hitched behind him. “And look—the window’s open.” Her eyes were wide, her face pale. She clutched her hands before her. Even so, he could see she was shaking.

  With a growl of frustration, Connor moved to the window and threw the drapes completely aside in time to see a dark figure jump down from their six-foot fence and vanish from sight. He wanted to stay and comfort Ellie, who was visibly shaken, but he had to follow the intruder if they were ever going to have answers.

  “Stay here,” Connor ground out. He turned to go, but stopped when Ellie placed a hand on his arm.

  “Be careful,” she said, then released him.

  He inclined his head to her. “Call the police.”

  “I will.”

  Without looking back, Connor tore after
the intruder. He pounded down one street, then another, until only the echo of his own footfalls came to his ears. He’d lost him.

  Just as he returned to Grayson House, the police arrived. Connor walked them inside. He found Ellie standing in the doorway with Zanzibar in her arms. He almost smiled at the sight of the two of them coming to terms with each other in a time of crisis.

  “Any luck?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “Whoever it was got away before I could get even a partial description. But the intruder must have been male judging by the height and build.”

  Over the next forty minutes, he and Ellie gave the police what information they could and promised to call if they found anything missing. When they were finally gone, Connor leaned against the door. “We’re getting an alarm system today. I won’t allow anything to happen to you, not when I can do something to avoid it.”

  She tried to smile, but her attempt was more like a grimace. He couldn’t blame her. The break-in was frightening, to say the least. “What could they possibly want from us or this house?”

  He didn’t want to upset her any more, but she had to know they weren’t after her or anything in the house. “I’d bet they were after my research, if not the prototype of my car itself.”

  “Is your car still here?” she asked, her voice pained as she placed a comforting hand on his arm.

  “I didn’t bring it home last night. It’s safe and locked up at the lab.”

  “How can you be sure? Is there someone you can call?”

  “I’ll need to go in to the university and check.”

  “Then go.”

  He shook his head. “I want to be here for you. To help you set the house to rights.”

  “I can take care of that. I’ll call Jordan and Olivia. They can help.”

  He patted her hand, then reluctantly removed it from his arm. “I’ll call your dad. I’d feel better if you had a man here with you.”

  Ellie frowned and grabbed a tipped-over glass vase from the kitchen table. “I’m perfectly capable of defending myself.”

  One corner of his mouth quirked at the sight of her. She looked like a fierce warrior with that glass vase held up, poised to strike. “I have no doubts about your abilities to protect yourself or this house, but it would make me feel better knowing you weren’t alone. Please? Let me call your dad.”

  “I’ll call him,” she said. “You get on your way to the lab.”

  He nodded and let go of her hand, instantly feeling its loss as he headed out the door. He knew he needed to make certain his research was safe, yet he had the insane urge to stay with Ellie at any cost.

  Once he reached the University of Washington and his robotics lab, he hurried inside. Only two members of his team had arrived. After a quick inspection, Connor was pleased to see his prototype was safely locked away in the lab and his research was secure in the safe.

  As a precaution, he placed a call to university security, requesting an on-site officer for the next few weeks. Until he could finish his work, he would need to protect it.

  If only he could be in two places at once.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Ellie spent the next three weeks in a blur of activity as she finished staging each room of Grayson House. Her vision was taking shape, even if Connor was no longer home during the day to help her. Ellie didn’t mind his going into the lab each day; his absence made it far easier to concentrate on her job.

  Then at night, she welcomed him in her arms, much to their mutual satisfaction and fulfillment. She could no longer imagine sleeping without Connor by her side. His lovemaking was as passionate as it was tender. She could feel caring in each stroke of his hand, each thrust of his body, though he never voiced those emotions. And yet he had written her that poem . . .

  Perhaps those were the only words she’d get from him—simple words inked in pen. A sinking feeling settled over her. It was time for her to accept that this was all he was capable of, or she’d be the one who walked away from this experiment with a broken heart.

  Turning her efforts toward something she controlled, she’d hired a team of professional designers to implement the decorations. This morning as she walked down the stairs, Ellie allowed herself a moment’s pride. All their hard work had transformed the already-grand house into something truly magical. Two steps later, her delight faded. It was only three more days until the Holiday Street of Dreams and Viola’s wedding. Ellie had accomplished almost everything she’d set out to do, which meant she’d soon be leaving Grayson House behind.

  Viola had recovered enough to leave the hospital and return to her assisted-living residence. She still had a long way to go in her recovery, but the bloom of love in her cheeks and her heart seemed to give her the determination she needed for a full recovery before her wedding.

  Ellie stopped at the bottom of the stairs. She turned back to look up at all they’d achieved. Greenery wrapped the banister of the grand staircase from the bottom to the top floor. White poinsettias, white ribbons, clear glass ornaments, and pinecones were the only decorations she’d used, allowing the house’s natural beauty and charm to shine through.

  A fifteen-foot tree welcomed visitors in the foyer, lit with LED candles that looked as if they’d come straight out of the Victorian age, along with the same decorations as the rest of the house.

  Outside, she’d wrapped the house in white twinkle lights and cedar boughs at the first- and second-story rooflines. Wreaths with big red bows hung from every window along the front and back of the house, completing the storybook vision from an earlier age.

  Connor had offered to help her with one of the more complex outside decorations. Since Lenny, George, Aaron, and Ernie were an accomplished singing group, she and Connor had hired them to dress in Victorian clothing and sing carols from long ago in a recording studio in the city. Connor’s plan was to project their image in a 3-D hologram on the front lawn. She’d coordinated the songs and the costumes for the four men. Connor had said he would take care of the projection for both daytime and nighttime viewing.

  Ellie turned and headed for the kitchen. It was time to get started on the last pieces of her design. In the three remaining days before the showing, she had to bake and decorate enough gingerbread houses to place in each room of the house.

  An hour later, the familiar scent of cinnamon and cloves permeated the air in the kitchen as Ellie took gingerbread that would become the first houses out of the oven. As she set the gingerbread on racks to cool, a knock sounded at the door.

  A quick glance at her watch let her know it would be the photojournalist from the Seattle Gazette who’d arranged to stop by and take pictures of Grayson House to advertise the Friday event.

  After a tour and many pictures of the house, Ellie brought her guest back to the kitchen for a cup of tea and a gingerbread cookie made from the leftover dough.

  “You pulled off a miracle, Mrs. Grayson. None of us at the paper thought you could manage it in the time you had,” Rachel Gatis admitted, chewing on a warm cookie.

  “It wasn’t easy,” Ellie said with a laugh as she took another sheet of gingerbread from the oven and placed it on a cooling rack.

  “What’s your secret?” Rachel asked.

  “I had lots of help. If you’d like a list of the contractors who provided the services, I’d be happy to provide one.”

  “Readers love that,” the photojournalist said as she sat back in her chair. “What’s next for you? Had any new job offers during the renovation?”

  Ellie inhaled the gingerbread-laden air. “I don’t know. I hadn’t thought that far ahead. Guess I’d better start worrying about another job sometime soon.” By Friday she’d be right back where she’d started—with no clients . . . and no husband.

  Rachel shrugged as she finished the last of her gingerbread and her tea. “I doubt you’ll have to wait long for an offer once these photos run. You’ll have them lining up for your interior-design skills. Want me to put the word out that you’
re looking for work?”

  Ellie turned back to the gingerbread, rearranging the pieces on the cooling rack as though the cookies needed her attention. She would miss the event-planning part of her business if the only jobs she got from now on were for design. But at least she’d have work. Finally she nodded. “Anything you can do to help would be gratefully appreciated, Rachel. Thank you.”

  The photojournalist stood up, preparing to leave. “No, thank you for the preview and the treats. I’ll get these photos online right away. They’ll run in the print edition of the paper the day after Thanksgiving.” Rachel turned to leave, then paused. “That was the best gingerbread I’ve ever eaten, by the way.”

  “It was my grandmother’s recipe,” Ellie replied. “I don’t think she’d mind if I shared her recipe with others. Would you like a copy?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Ellie saw Rachel out, then shut the door behind her, releasing a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She turned to look at the grandfather clock and his ever-present frown. There was nothing magical about the face on the clock. The artist who’d painted the old man had done so in a way that when people looked at the face of the clock, they might see something different than the person standing next to them did. The painting was an optical illusion of sorts. Regardless of that knowledge, Ellie frowned at the old man’s face, and the frown clearly etched there.

  “I know. I’m a disappointment. You don’t have to rub it in,” Ellie groaned. Leaving Grayson House and Connor was the last thing she wanted to do, yet she might not have any other choice.

  After she’d spent the entire day baking and decorating gingerbread houses, Ellie was happy to escape to her Tuesday-night retreat at The Lucky Club with her friends. When she arrived, Jordan and Olivia were already there, drinks ordered and waiting.

  Before Ellie said a word, she slipped into the empty chair beside Jordan and downed the entire glass of pink champagne before her.