Jordan threw Ellie a questioning glance just as her pager beeped. “All right. I’ll give you a reprieve for now because I have to respond to this, but you better be prepared to talk to Olivia and me on girls’ night. See you Tuesday.” With those words, Jordan left the two of them alone.
Ellie turned to Connor. “Don’t mind Jordan. She can be a little blunt at times.”
“Sounded like she knew what she was talking about.” Irritation flashed in his expression.
Ellie opened her mouth to speak, but he stopped her by holding up his hand. “It doesn’t matter how we feel about each other. Do we still have a deal? Will you stay married and live with me in Viola’s house as my wife until she recovers?”
The job Viola offered was more than Ellie had ever dreamed possible. Viola might have been a bit manipulative in getting them to live in her house, but the Historical Society’s Holiday Street of Dreams was a huge event in Seattle. Locals and visitors came from all over the country to see glorious houses from another era.
Ellie couldn’t deny the sense of satisfaction that filled her at the thought that she would be a part of the event. She would have work again, and with that work she could proceed with her Birthday Project. And it would buy her time—time to figure out what came next.
For the next five weeks she’d have an income and something quite spectacular to accomplish. Given the desperation that had driven her to Las Vegas, she was more than ready for the task of resurrecting Viola’s old house. “Let’s go to Grayson House. No time like the present to see what we’re up against.”
Had there ever been any truer words?
The next five weeks could be heaven or hell. It was time to find out which awaited them at Viola’s old Victorian.
As soon as Connor and Ellie disappeared around the corner and onto the hospital elevator, Aaron signaled for the boys to come out of the waiting room. Over the years, he’d become the group’s self-appointed expert in subterfuge. Even though Connor and Ellie might not recognize them out of their Elvis costumes, they didn’t want to chance being seen by the newlyweds.
“All clear,” Aaron announced. George, Ernie, and Lenny joined him. Silently they crept toward Viola’s room.
Code blue, ICU . . . Code blue. An alarm blared through the paging system, and a flurry of medical staff flew past them to a room down the hall. When the chaos cleared, the four men slipped into Viola’s room unnoticed.
When Aaron saw Viola, he felt as if he were doing a free fall into a deep, dark hole. She looked dead. Gray and withered and still. So unlike the Viola they knew and loved. Aaron reached for the rails of her bed to steady himself. This wasn’t how he’d imagined them seeing each other again after all these years.
Beside him the cardiac monitor beeped relentlessly, keeping time with his own thundering heartbeat. No, I can do this, Aaron encouraged himself. He had to be strong for Viola’s sake. He straightened and forced a smile. “Hey there, sugar.” It was the name he’d always called her.
Her eyes drifted open. “Aaron Peterson, as I live and breathe.”
“That’s the point, Viola. You are living and breathing,” George said from the opposite side of the bed, where he and Lenny stood. Ernie slid in beside Aaron.
Viola turned her head, searching both sides of the bed. “You’re here.”
“Of course we’re here for our best gal,” Aaron said, his voice suddenly fierce. “Nothing could have kept us from you.”
Viola’s gaze lingered on Aaron for a moment. “But you already did what I asked you to do,” she said, her eyes shining, her mouth pulled up in a smile that warmed the utilitarian room. “When I told you that both Connor and Ellie were heading for Las Vegas, I never expected you’d be able to bring them together so easily, let alone persuade them to get married.”
“We didn’t have to do anything,” George laughed. “Tequila did the job for us.”
Lenny frowned. “I think there was more to it than that. Those two had a past. And a past with someone you loved isn’t always easy to forget.”
Was Lenny talking about Connor and Ellie or the five of them? Aaron reached down and slipped his hand around Viola’s arthritic fingers. The strength he never found in his own soul, he’d found in hers for years. Once again he was blanketed in the warmth of her unconditional love.
This time Viola was the vulnerable one. He could see the doubt and the worry that shadowed her eyes. It was time to give something back to the woman who’d been a good friend to all of them for so long. Aaron squeezed her fingers. “Our task is far from over. We might have helped Ellie and Connor get together. Now it’s up to us to keep them that way.”
Viola tried to sit up, but a racking cough sent her back against the mattress. “Yes,” Viola rasped out when she was able, giving him a sad, gentle smile. In the next heartbeat, Viola stiffened. Her cardiac monitor beeped crazily up and down. She clamped on to Aaron’s fingers, crushing them as she made a gasping sound.
“Push the ‘Call’ button. Go get help.” Aaron signaled to the others as he stared at Viola, trying to remain calm for her sake. “I’m here with you, sugar. You’re going to be fine.” He could see the pain in her face.
“Please . . . don’t let . . . me die.”
“You won’t die, Viola. Help is on the way. We still have so much to live for.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Connor parked his everyday car, a gray Nissan LEAF, on the street in front of his grandmother’s faded pink-and-white Victorian located on Capitol Hill. He made his way to the rock near the side of the house and retrieved the spare key his grandmother left for him there so that he would always have a place to call home. Yet Grayson House was no ordinary home.
The mansion drew from an Italianate style, laden with turrets, porches, bays embellished with gingerbread adornments, and fanciful windows. Victorians were like snowflakes; no two were alike, as proven by the ten houses in a row on this street.
With trepidation about what lay ahead, Connor made his way up the stairs to the front door. Ellie followed him. A thick manila envelope was perched against the wooden door. Picking it up, he noted the return address was the Seattle Historical Society.
He handed the packet to Ellie. “Looks like they really want Grayson House to be a part of their holiday showcase.” Inserting the key in the lock, Connor stepped back for Ellie to enter.
With a heaviness that had nothing to do with Ellie, Connor followed her into his grandmother’s house. The musty scent of a house in disrepair filled his senses. The old place would be filled with as much dust as memories—both of which he was in no hurry to confront. The thought had barely formed when Ellie stopped in front of a picture on the wall on the right side of the foyer. She reached out and touched the dusty frame, angling it to the same ninety degrees as the pictures on either side. “Isn’t that your dad?” Ellie asked, obviously recognizing his father from when they’d dated in high school.
“And my mother,” he replied. The photograph of his parents on their wedding day had retained its vibrant colors, looking out of place against the faded wallpaper behind it. His mother and father faced each other, holding hands, appearing as if they were in love. While his grandmother believed in true love and always lectured him about finding it, his own parents had shown him the truth. Love had limits. Lots of them.
“Oh,” she replied, and dropped her fingers from the frame. He’d told her back in high school that his parents were no longer together. One year into his parents’ marriage, Connor had been born. By their sixth anniversary, his mother was gone. Mary Grayson had walked out on his dad and him and had never come back. His father had never been the same after that. And, if Connor was honest, neither had he.
Ellie turned away, heading for the light switch. She flicked it on, and the chandelier overhead cast a yellow-brown light down on them. She surveyed the room. “Despite the dust and the cobwebs, this house really is a treasure.”
The beautiful inlaid stonework beneath their feet was covered in dirt and dust, as was
the grand staircase that rose before them, leading to the second story. Off to the left was a formal sitting room. On either side of the stairway were elegant plastered arches that framed the hallways beyond. “Are you happy you said yes to the project?” Connor asked.
“It will definitely be a challenge.” She brought her gaze back to his.
“Have you ever supervised renovation work before?” Connor was suddenly curious about what she’d done during the past eleven years.
“No,” she replied with a halfhearted smile. “But I’m very good at organizing work flow. I’ll find contractors who can guarantee their work will be completed on time so we’ll be done with the house by the time Viola recovers from her heart attack. Before you know it, we’ll be free of each other.”
That’s what he wanted, wasn’t it? Yet for some reason her words left him irritated. He turned away and moved into the parlor off to the right and flipped on the light. Beaten-gold luminescence revealed four walls once painted a dark red that were now faded to a brownish pink. The furnishings were two red and worn upholstered settees that faced each other, several small tables, bookshelves, and an intricately woven Turkish rug that covered the floor.
Ellie followed him inside the room and set the packet of papers down on a dusty side table near a settee. “Before we get settled, I’d like to set a few ground rules.”
The huskiness in her voice washed over him, reminding him of a time, long ago, when she’d whispered sweet promises of a future together into his ear. Had she remembered those broken promises in Las Vegas? Had those memories bridged the divide time had created to bring them together again? He looked into her face. Eyes he’d always been able to read were closed off to him now. He took a slow step closer.
She didn’t back away, but her breathing quickened. Her lips parted. “Are we agreed on that?”
He let his gaze drop to her lips. “On what?”
“That we should have rules.” Her words were breathless.
“We don’t need rules. What we need to be is convincing as a couple to my grandmother and to all our friends and family.” The air between them all but crackled.
“What are you suggesting?” Her voice lowered even more, her tone provocative, challenging.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “That we clear the air between us. It’s obvious we both are harboring old resentment.” The weight of their shared past hung in the air like the dust they’d stirred up upon entering the old house. They’d managed to hide from each other for eleven years. Was it long enough for them to put their unfinished business behind them? Or would they have it out, right here, right now?
“Given the choice, I would have picked anyone else to play the part of my wife, but destiny decided to bring us together instead,” Connor said, trying unsuccessfully to keep the anger from his voice.
“Don’t be so sanctimonious. We ended up in this position because of poor decisions on both of our parts. As a result, you now have a wife to present to your grandmother, and I have a much-needed job.”
Connor drew a long, slow breath, trying desperately to pull himself out of the past. It was, as she pointed out, a win-win situation for them both. “Can you let go of our past in order for us to work together on this project while living in close proximity?”
Determination filled her eyes. “This house is huge. I doubt it would be hard to avoid each other.”
“Then we have a truce?” he asked, extending his hand.
“Yes,” she replied as she slipped her hand into his.
The palm of his hand warmed, tingling in a way it hadn’t for years. He wasn’t quite sure how they were going to pull the whole thing off—acting like a happily married couple, renovating the house, getting along when there was still so much between them, including an undeniable physical response to each other. Was it a spark from the past, or something else entirely?
Ellie tried to focus on the present task despite the tingling sensation that passed between her and Connor’s hands. They’d found a way to reconcile their past, however temporarily, as they worked toward a common goal. “I appreciate your grandmother’s faith in my abilities to renovate and decorate this house.”
“She wouldn’t have offered if she didn’t believe you could do everything she wanted.”
Connor smiled, and Ellie realized it was the first real smile he’d given her since this whole Vegas wedding nightmare had begun. It softened the tiny lines at the corners of his eyes, making him look more like the boy she remembered. At the thought, butterflies let loose in Ellie’s stomach.
“So where do we go from here?” she asked.
His green eyes grew serious again, and his smile vanished. His hands moved to her waist, and he slowly drew her against his chest. “Maybe we should get the awkwardness of this arrangement out of the way with a practice kiss. My grandmother will expect nothing less than a demonstration of our affection for each other.”
“That sounds like a sound strategy,” Ellie replied, trying to remind herself that this was all it was to Connor—a way to encourage his grandmother to get better.
Connor slowly pressed his lips against hers. Desire flared, bright and hot. The kind of desire she hadn’t felt in years.
His lips firmed as he tilted his head. The kiss changed, and he was in command, parting her lips, invading her mouth, laying claim. Memories surged—brilliant moments she’d shared with this man when they’d both been idealistic and young. Need and desire infused her, and him, no longer a memory but real. Instead of fighting him, she tunneled her hands through his hair, surprising herself with her response as their mutual hunger launched them into a spiraling vortex. A small part of her brain reveled in the fact that she could still have this effect on him, that he could want her as much now as he had back then.
He pressed against her, his need as demanding as her own. Passion flared, hotter than she remembered. And suddenly she wanted more than just a kiss. They’d never gone beyond that in high school, but they were older and more experienced now.
And married.
Ellie tensed.
Connor’s lips softened on hers, and he broke the kiss. He stared down into her eyes. “What’s wrong?”
Her breath caught in her chest. “I can’t believe I didn’t ask this before. Do you have a girlfriend?”
“No,” he replied, his voice still heavy with the passion they’d shared. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
She shook her head.
Satisfaction flared in his eyes. “That’s good, because explaining our marriage would have been awkward otherwise.”
She stepped back out of his reach. “Just how real do you expect this ‘marriage’ of ours to appear to our friends and family?”
“Are we back to those rules you talked about a few minutes ago?” he asked, still studying her lips.
She tried to look away but found she could not. “Do you expect me to share a bed with you?”
“While no one else is around, you can sleep wherever you want. But if we have guests, then we must maintain the illusion that we’re sharing more than a house.”
“Anything else?”
His gaze narrowed. “Are you talking about sex?”
She nodded again.
A smile pulled up the corners of his mouth. “Only if we both agree, but there will be no trying to fall in love.”
“No worries there, Grayson. I learned that lesson long ago.”
His smile vanished. “You know, maybe this whole situation happened for a reason. Maybe it’s our chance to put our past behind us, and we can relearn how to be friends.”
“Friends?” They had been friends once, before they’d let their attraction get out of hand. “For how long? Your grandmother could be around for years to come,” she said, needing him to be specific about just how long this arrangement could continue.
“We can’t know how long it will take Grandmother to heal, or to . . .” The words faded away as his voice became strained.
“Neither of us wants to be
in this situation forever. Right?” Ellie asked.
He nodded. “I realize it’s a lot to ask of you, to stay married to me for weeks on end. How about a compromise? We’ll agree to stay married until Grayson House opens for the Holiday Street of Dreams.”
“And if your grandmother isn’t better by then?”
“The Holiday Street of Dreams is in five weeks. Grandmother should be recovered enough from her heart attack to handle the truth about our marriage.”
Ellie studied the man before her. This wasn’t the remote, distracted, and heartless Connor Grayson she remembered. The steady green eyes gazing back at her were warm and filled with genuine caring for his grandmother. A strange breathlessness came over her.
“Our arrangement won’t be without its rewards, as that kiss just proved. We still have a chemistry that can be satisfying to us both.”
There was no point in denying the truth of his words. They did have a spark that, if indulged properly, might be quite rewarding. If she were that kind of girl.
Which she wasn’t.
She did believe in happily ever after despite what she’d told him in Vegas. So did her family. The Hawthornes prided themselves on never divorcing . . . ever. Marriage in her family was forever.
Ellie frowned. Maybe her family didn’t have to know. It was only five weeks. If she were careful, she could keep the news of her marriage to Connor a secret. If her parents didn’t know about her marriage, then there would be no repercussions, no disgrace. All she had to do was figure out a reason to miss Thanksgiving dinner.
She could walk away with a clear conscience, and maybe indulge herself in a little pleasure along the way. It would be a first for her to have a sexy, fun adventure. She was certain her girlfriends Jordan and Olivia would encourage her to be daring. “Can you be married to me for that long?” she asked.
“Of course,” Connor said. “How hard can it be?”
She nodded, satisfied that they’d come to an agreement. “How hard, indeed.”
Ellie had barely spoken the words when Connor’s cell phone rang. He excused himself as he turned away from her, taking the call. It took less than a heartbeat to realize it wasn’t a social call by the sudden stiffness of Connor’s back.
Married at Midnight Page 4