The Midnight Hour

by Karen Robards

He led the way through a second room directly behind the living room—originally intended as a dining room, Grace thought, but outfitted with a desk, a chair, a computer, and overflowing bookshelves as a den or office—to the kitchen, a small square room with three walls given over to white formica cabinets, white counters, and white appliances. The fourth wall, covered with red-and-white windowpane-plaid paper, contained a door with a glass pane and a tall rectangular window, both topped with a red-and-white-gingham frill. A glass-and-wrought-iron table and two wrought-iron chairs with red seat covers stood in the middle of the room. The tabletop was piled high with mail. Beyond the kitchen, Grace got a glimpse of what looked like two bedrooms, with white walls and beds and not much else.

  “Out there.” Marino smiled at Jessica, pointing to the door. Without waiting for any further permission, she crossed to the door, opened it, admitting a gust of fresh air, and stopped on the threshold as she was greeted by a sharp bark.

  Marino moved to stand behind her for a moment, said, “Yo, Kramer, I’m home,” over her head to the unseen denizen of the yard, and then headed toward the bedrooms.

  “I’m going to shave real quick and throw some things into a bag. Make yourself at home,” he said over his shoulder to Grace.

  “A puppy!” Jessica exclaimed rapturously at the same time, and disappeared down the steps into the yard.

  Grace followed Jessica and stood in the doorway for a moment looking down. The kitchen door opened onto three gray-painted wooden steps, which led down into a narrow, grassy side yard. This part of the yard ran along the length of the house before expanding into the backyard proper, where from her vantage point Grace could see part of a detached frame garage painted gray like the house. A door in the back of the garage opened onto the yard, while the front, with what she assumed was the car entrance, opened onto an alley that ran behind the house. In one corner of the yard, a small, apparently dead rose garden reached with bare, thorny branches toward the sky. A chain-link fence covered with weedlike vines surrounded the property, making a right angle into the side of the house just beyond where Grace stood at the top of the steps. Directly below her Jessica knelt. She was being jumped on and slavishly licked by a pair of dogs who were carbon copies of each other except for the fact that one was knee-high while the other was about a fourth the size. Both were brown and white and so furry that just about the only way to tell one end from the other was that the back of each had a wag to it. Grace’s second glance found small, pointed ears attached to the tops of their heads, and busy pink tongues at work on any part of Jessica’s person they could reach. Long tufts of white hair springing from where, in humans, eyebrows would be, allowed only an occasional glimpse of two pairs of liquid-brown eyes.

  “Oh, Mom, aren’t they sweet?” Jessica exclaimed with a glance up at her mother. Jessica was wreathed in smiles, and Grace had an idea that Marino’s stock had just soared sky-high in her estimation. Having never owned a dog—her father had equated dogs with mess when she was growing up, so their family had never had one, and later she had been too busy with school and work and Jessica to even consider acquiring one—Grace was not so sure about the sweet part. In fact, she had never felt really comfortable with pets at all. Jessica, on the other hand, adored all animals. She was holding the puppy on her lap while Kramer rolled onto her back, legs kicking in the air, for a tummy rub, which Jessica gladly supplied.

  “Mom, ask Detective Marino what the puppy’s name is,” Jessica requested with another upward glance. She was grinning from ear to ear, looking happier than Grace would have thought possible, considering the trauma she had suffered through the previous night.

  Grace nodded and withdrew from the doorway. In the near bedroom she caught a quick glimpse of movement through the partially open door, confirming Marino’s location.

  Moving over to the door, she knocked softly while taking care not to look inside. After all, as she had discovered herself, a bedroom was a private thing, and anyway he might be changing clothes. . ..

  He was. At least, his lower face was covered in shaving foam and he was shirtless as he pulled the door open to look down at her with raised brows. A lightning glance told Grace that his shoulders and upper arms were heavy with muscle. His chest was broad and solid looking, with a triangle of thick black hair that tapered down over a ridged abdomen to disappear in a thin trail beneath the waistband of his jeans. And the whole of his upper torso was a shade paler than the outdoorsy bronze of his throat and face and arms.

  Shirtless, he looked so sexy that she caught her breath.

  Her gaze flew to his, and once again the memory of those shared kisses flared between them. Her mouth went dry as she contemplated lifting a hand to his bare chest and tilting up her face. . ..

  Jessica was in the yard. No.

  Grace was so unnerved at her reaction to his bare chest that she hurried into speech. “Jess—Jessica wants to know the name of your puppy.”

  He shrugged. “I just call him puppy. He was one of three. I’ve already found homes for the other two. I’m still looking for somebody to take this one.” He smiled at her.

  Grace forgot—well, largely forgot—about his state of undress as she stared up at him suspiciously. “I hope you’re not thinking that Jessica . . .”

  “Nah.” His smile broadened into a grin. A shirtless man with his face half covered in shaving cream could be a very beguiling as well as sexy creature, Grace discovered. “I just thought that, instead of grounding her, which clearly doesn’t work, you might consider resorting to a bribe of sorts to keep her out of things she shouldn’t be into and in the house at night.”

  “A bribe . . .” Grace frowned after him as he turned away from her and headed back into the bathroom. His bare back was just as sexy as his chest, she noted, watching him walk away from her. His shoulders were wide and his hips were narrow and. . . “Are we talking dog as bribe?”

  “It was just a thought,” he said, pausing on the bathroom threshold to look at her.

  “Not a good one,” Grace said positively.

  He shrugged. “Your call.”

  Stepping into the bathroom, he reached for the taps on the sink. As steam began to rise from the water pouring out of a silvery spout, he picked up a black, T-shaped razor and lifted it to his face. Tilting up his chin, he scraped away a narrow swath of foam and whiskers with one practiced swipe along his throat. Then his gaze met hers through the mirror above the sink. To her embarrassment, Grace realized that she had been watching, fascinated, as he shaved.

  Quickly she turned away.

  “Tell Jessica she can name it anything she wants,” he called after her.

  She could hear the amusement in his voice. Her only question was whether it was directed at her for watching him with hungry eyes through the mirror, or for her reaction to his suggestion about Jessica and the dog.

  Chapter

  34

  THE TELEPHONE RANG while Grace stood in the doorway watching Jessica play with Puppy—she had passed on the non-name—and Kramer.

  “Grace, get that, will you?” Marino called from the bedroom.

  Grace did as she was asked, although with some trepidation. She did not feel enough at home in his house to answer the phone.

  “Tony Marino’s residence,” she said in a clear, crisp tone.

  There was a leaden pause. “Who is this?” It was a woman’s voice, unmistakably suspicious.

  “Uh, who’s calling?” Grace riposted, not wanting to give her name under the circumstances.

  “I am calling for Tony.” The suspicion in the voice grew more pronounced.

  Grace abandoned the battle. “Just a minute, please.” She put her hand over the mouthpiece. “It’s for you,” she called, thinking what a surprise. Then, when he didn’t answer, she raised her voice. “Tony, believe it or not, it’s for you.”

  “See, Tony’s an easy name to say, even when you’re being sarcastic.” He grinned at her as he appeared in the bedroom doorway, wearing a navy
sweatshirt over a white T-shirt that showed just at the neckline, and faded but clean jeans. His face was clean-shaven now, too. “Who is it?”

  “A woman.” Grace was careful to keep any inflection from her voice.

  “Yeah?” He looked interested, taking the receiver from her.

  “Hello?” he said into the mouthpiece. For a minute or two he said nothing else, listening to what must, from his reaction, have been the torrent of words that greeted him. Then he glanced at Grace, who had forgotten that she still stood nearby watching him. Under the influence of that twinkling gaze, she was recalled to herself and turned away. Moving to the door again, her back to him as she ostensibly watched Jessica play with the dogs, she could not help but overhear every word he said.

  “Yes, it’s a woman. Yes, she’s in my house. Yes, she’s very pretty. Yes, that’s right. Her name is Grace.”

  While Grace grappled with the pleasure-pain of the fact that he had described her as very pretty while talking to another woman, he paused again. This pause lasted several minutes. Finally Marino laughed.

  “I’ll try. I’m not promising anything, though. Yes, I will. Okay. ‘Bye.”

  He hung up. Grace, her muscles rigid with the effort not to turn and look at him, continued to stare out into the yard. The only problem was, she was so attuned to what was going on behind her that she saw nothing at all.

  “That was my mother,” he said. “You and Jessica have been invited to lunch.”

  The sheer surprise of that brought her swinging around. He still stood with one hand on the phone.

  “Your mother?” She must have gaped at him in amazement, because he laughed as he headed back into the bedroom.

  “Remember her? The mother of six cops?”

  “Yes, but—I was picturing her as some frail old woman in a nursing home, or something of the sort.” Grace followed him, almost unaware that she was doing so. “The woman on the phone didn’t sound frail. She didn’t even sound old.”

  “She’ll be glad to hear that. She’s sixty-five and prides herself on being as strong as an ox and as tough as shoe leather.” He was in his bedroom now, pulling the rope tight on an army-green duffel bag stuffed with belongings. Without his naked chest to distract her, Grace was able to form an impression of the room. In pride of place was a comfortable-looking king-size bed topped with what appeared to be a hand-pieced quilt in shades of red and blue. Four pillows in a motley array of cases rested against the simple oak headboard. A nightstand in the same oak as the headboard was beside the bed, with a lamp, a clock, and a pile of paperback whodunits on it. A tall chest in some kind of dark wood stood against the far wall, with a straight chair beside it. The one window was covered in discount-department-store-quality antique satin drapes in off-white. The walls were white and unadorned. Like the rest of the house, his bedroom was clearly intended to be functional, not beautiful, to the eye.

  “Every Sunday afternoon my mother cooks, and everybody who can make it stops by to eat. This Sunday’s special, because Lauren—my niece—was christened yesterday, and Robby and his family are still in town. All my brothers are going to be there, and their families, and my granny, too. Mama wants me to bring you.”

  “Me?” Grace’s mind reeled at the thought. “She doesn’t even know me.”

  “She liked the way you sounded over the phone.”

  “Oh, right.”

  He laughed, slung the duffel bag over his shoulder, and headed toward her. Grace automatically moved out of his way, and he passed her on his way through the house. She followed again, a little helplessly, as he set the duffel bag down by the front door.

  “So, do you want to go or not?” He straightened to look at her.

  “Jessica and I can’t just barge in on a family gathering.” Grace frantically dredged her mind for excuses. The truth was, she both wanted to go and didn’t. Even more than his house, his family would tell her a lot about the man. It would be both interesting and informative to meet them. But for her and Jessica to go with him to such an intimate event—that made it personal. Very, very personal. And their relationship really wasn’t.

  She didn’t even know if she wanted it to be.

  “Sure you can. Mama invited you. Look, Dom’s told her about the lady judge and she wants to meet you, okay? Lady judges are not all that common in her experience. But we don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

  “You go. Jessica and I can just go home and . . .”

  “Grace.” His voice was very soft and his gaze as it met hers across the room was suddenly intense. “You forget that to all intents and purposes we’re Siamese twins for the day. Where you go, I go, and vice versa.”

  Grace groaned. His eyes darkened, and he was moving purposefully toward her when Jessica bounced into the kitchen, both dogs at her heels. Jessica was smiling, her eyes sparkling, the end of her ponytail flipping from side to side. At her advent, Marino stopped where he was, looking faintly rueful as he thrust both hands into the front pockets of his jeans and rocked back on his heels.

  “Mom, I had this really great idea: Since Detective Marino’s going to be staying at our house for a while, do you think Kramer and Puppy could come and stay, too? That would be so cool. I mean, if it’s okay with you, Detective.” Her gaze went questioningly to Marino.

  Grace groaned again, foreseeing what was about to happen. Marino’s intense expression vanished, and he grinned at her teasingly before directing his gaze toward Jessica.

  “Call me Tony, Jessica. Detective Marino gets to be a mouthful after a while. And sure, I don’t care if the dogs come. You’ve got to get your mom’s permission, though.”

  “Mom, please.” Those big blue eyes turned on Grace. Marino—Tony—was looking at her too, his expression amused.

  “Fine.” Realizing that she had no chance against the two of them, Grace gave up the fight and mentally surrendered to the whole enchilada: name, dogs, and afternoon at Mama’s. If it was all too personal, well, then, so be it. She would just have to deal with the consequences, if any, when they came. “Bring the dogs. I don’t care. By the way, Jess, Detective Marino—Tony—wants us to go to his mother’s house for lunch and a big family get-together. What do you think about that?”

  Jessica looked at Tony, considering. “Are there going to be kids? Like my age?”

  “I’ve got a thirteen-year-old niece, a fourteen-year-old niece, and two sixteen-year-old nephews, besides tons of younger ones. They’re great, you’ll like them. And every Marino that was ever born plays killer basketball.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Jessica’s eyes lit up. Tony nodded.

  “Sounds good to me.” Jessica looked at her mother. “What do you say, Mom?”

  “Fine,” Grace said again, mentally throwing up her hands. She felt as if she were getting ready to jump into water way over her head. The question was, could she swim?

  “Great.” Tony grinned at her, the twinkle in his eyes faintly devilish now. “Lock the back door, Jessica, please, and we’ll be on our way.”

  Tony’s family was, as advertised, warm and welcoming and boisterous and really, really big. Five brothers, all of whom resembled each other except for degrees of taller, shorter, fatter, and thinner, plus wives—all were married except Tony—and fifteen children ranging in age from the sixteen-year-old twin boys belonging to his brother Rick, who was two years younger than Tony, to the four-week-old daughter of his youngest brother Robby, were present, as were his mother and grandmother. The house was an arts-and-crafts “cottage”—really a large, rambling affair with a sloping roof, shed dormers, and huge front and back porches—set on ten acres in a rural area just north of Columbus on Farm Road. The driveway was gravel, the grass clogged with weeds, and cars of all different makes and descriptions were parked everywhere. The overall impression the property gave was distinctly shabby but, Grace thought, a good kind of shabby. The kind of shabby that comes from lots of children and little concern for grass—not much money, but visitors galore. The place show
ed the wear and tear of a house that had been lived in and loved, which gave it a beauty all its own.

  From the moment they walked around back, where what seemed like throngs of people swarmed around half a dozen picnic tables loaded with stacks of paper plates and cups, plastic utensils, bags of ice, and cases of soda, Tony was greeted with exuberance on all sides. He was the recipient of so many hugs and kisses that Grace lost track. Grace was hugged, too, indiscriminately. Jessica was luckier: she was immediately whisked away by the teenagers—Christy, fourteen; Susan, a year younger; and Joe and Jamie, the sixteen-year-old twins. As Joe and Jamie, in the gangly way of adolescents, were as darkly handsome as the older male Marinos, Grace wasn’t surprised by her daughter’s willingness to leave her side. Even Tony’s dogs got into the act, barking and racing madly around the picnickers’ feet. At least four other canines were present as well, adding to the general air of carnival-type confusion.

  Even as his relatives were greeting Tony, Grace found herself the focus of attention. Everyone, it seemed, was staring at her, not just when they were introduced, as might be expected, but before and afterward as well, some openly and some out of the corners of their eyes. She got the feeling that they were talking about her, too, under their breath and in asides so that she couldn’t quite hear what was said. To her surprised dismay, she started to feel almost shy. As shy was a trait she had purposely worked very hard to eliminate from her character years before, she was nonplussed by its reappearance. Lost in the sea of Tony’s family, exchanging helios with plump blond sister-in-law Beth and brother Mike, then tall, slender blond sister-in-law Meredith and brother Kyle, Grace was almost grateful to come face-to-face with Dominick, whom she at least knew by sight.

  Almost grateful. It was also a little embarrassing.

  “Glad to have you join us, Judge Hart.” His voice was a shade too hearty as he also appeared to feel some of the moment’s awkwardness. He had been to her house several times now, but always in his official capacity as a police officer. Now the occasion was social, a gathering of his family with her as his brother’s guest, and he seemed just as uncomfortable as Grace was with the transition.