Page 25 of Married at Midnight

CHAPTER EIGHT

Staring out the parlor window, Ellie took several deep breaths, trying to calm down. Three days into the refurbishment of the house and they were facing a serious setback with the timeline of the exterior renovation. She’d lived in Seattle all her life, long enough to at least have considered that a typical October day was filled with liquid sunshine, as the locals often joked with each other.

Zanzibar sat in the windowsill, watching her with calculating gold eyes. Outside, rain drummed down from a steel-gray sky. Puddles formed on the street and in the grass, reminding her that this wasn’t a passing shower. It had been raining all night and looked as if it would continue all day, or for the next forty days. It was hard to tell.

Would Connor head in to work today, or would he stay at the house? She was never certain from one day to the next. At the sound of footsteps in the hallway, Ellie knew she’d have her answer soon. “Good morning,” she said a bit too brightly when Connor appeared in the doorway.

He wore jeans and a navy-blue T-shirt that could have passed for work clothes. On him, the fitted shirt looked sexy, revealing the corded muscles of his chest and arms beneath the thin fabric. He was supposed to be a geek who spent a lot of time in his lab, but he could have passed for a rugged athlete.

“Are you hanging out here today?” Ellie asked, surprised that she wouldn’t come in second to his work.

“Yep.” For a long moment he said nothing as his long and lingering gaze slid over her body, capturing her form beneath the unflattering sweatpants and long Mariners T-shirt she’d chosen with hard work in mind. Her hair was pulled back into a functional ponytail. She looked as dreadful as she knew how to look.

“Interesting outfit,” he finally said, raising his eyes to hers.

“We were supposed to be painting outside.” It was the only explanation she had, other than that she had to build some sort of barrier between herself and Connor. Every moment she spent in his presence, she could feel her resolve to stay unaffected by him melting. “Because of the rain, I thought we could take inventory of the furniture instead? We can figure out what needs to be moved into each room. Then we can prioritize the refurbishment based on what rooms will actually be open to the public for viewing.”

“That’s a great plan. I hadn’t actually considered the fact we wouldn’t be showing the entire house. It makes a lot more sense to determine what rooms will be open and which ones won’t.”

She smiled at the unexpected compliment. “In the end, staging the event will save us time and money. Wedding venues are an illusion created with a lot of plywood and duct tape, camouflaged by pretty flowers.”

Connor laughed, the sound filling the room with intimate warmth. “I’m impressed. I should never have doubted your abilities.”

For an hour they moved from room to room in the house, with Zanzibar following behind. In the master bedroom they discovered a closet full of Viola’s old clothes. There were items Connor said he remembered, along with several ball gowns he didn’t.

“I’ve never seen this many gowns in one place outside of a store,” Ellie laughed.

“Me neither,” Connor replied as they left the dresses where they were and moved on to the other three bedrooms on the second floor. When they were done, they headed to the family room downstairs.

On her clipboard, Ellie cataloged all the furnishings Viola had left behind. The three-story Victorian had six bedrooms, a library, music room, study, sitting room, kitchen, family room, dining room, four bathrooms, a ballroom, and a dumbwaiter that passed between the floors. While Grayson House was a small mansion by today’s standards, it had been extravagant in its time.

“Most of the furnishings are antiques,” Ellie said, clutching the clipboard in her hands as Connor moved alongside her in the family room. She dropped her gaze to her list. It was better to concentrate on the items there than on him.

At first she’d allowed herself to watch him, but that had been a mistake. There was a raw, masculine power that lived beneath his self-proclaimed geeky surface that anyone with eyes could see.

His green eyes had shifted from her. Now they returned, focused and intent. “It’s hard living in a house full of priceless things.”

“You lived here?” Her words were a little breathier than she would have liked.

He inclined his head. “After my mom left, Dad and I moved in with Grandmother. Dad kind of disappeared for a while. It was Viola who took care of me, but she had a lot of rules, especially when it came to the furniture.”

Ellie could only imagine. Viola looked so soft on the outside—the woman within was another matter. “Did you live here long?”

Connor shifted closer as he inspected a lamp on the side table next to her. “About six years. That’s how long it took for my dad to pull himself together. By the time he wanted to be a family again, I was eleven and rebellious.”

His nearness felt like a flame down the side of her body. She frowned. “You were rebellious?”

He shrugged. “In my own way.”

She fought to concentrate on what they were doing and not close her eyes and let her senses stretch. “What does that mean?”

“The best part of our new house was that it had a garage. I took it over and turned it into a laboratory. At first my dad argued that he wanted to park his car in there, but he finally gave in after I moved back in with Viola.”

“You manipulated him.” The thought gave her something else to concentrate on. She shifted away.

“I’m not proud of that fact, but yes. He let me set up in that private space where I conducted all kinds of experiments. It took me five years to figure out what I was good at—robotics. And I’ve never looked back.”

“Are you and your dad close now?”