by Mollie Molay
What was one day out of his life?
And why did she have to look at him with such proud and trusting eyes?
He motioned to Emily to sit down and tried a sensible, if not reasonable, approach. “Let’s talk this over, okay?” She nodded, but he had the sinking feeling she wasn’t going to give an inch. “Mind telling me why you need a husband so desperately, and why you didn’t explain yesterday?”
The glint in her eyes told him he wasn’t going to like her answer. “Because I wasn’t sure I would need you today.”
He smothered a sigh. “If you ask me, there’s nothing simple about any of this. As far as I’m concerned, three hundred and fifty dollars has earned me the right to know the entire scenario. Besides,” he added with a wry smile, “I figure I’m entitled to make sure the masquerade would be on the up-and-up.”
When she bit her lip, he had the sinking feeling that whatever plan she was about to share with him wasn’t going to be strictly legitimate. “Anything we can get arrested for?” he went on to ask. “I’d hate to wind up in jail.”
“Of course not! What do you take me for?”
She tried to look insulted, but he sensed a hint of uncertainty in her voice. “You tell me, Miss Holmes. If I’m going to be your husband, however briefly—” he rushed to make clear “—I need to know the whole story.”
She hesitated and eyed him with suspicion. “Does that mean you’ve decided to go along with me?”
He could tell by her frown she wasn’t too happy with him. “Maybe,” he said reluctantly. “It all depends on the facts. Just give them to me straight.”
For fear the truth would scare him off, Emily debated the wisdom of sharing the whole story with T.J. What she wanted him to do wasn’t exactly honest, but surely it couldn’t get them arrested. She mentally crossed her fingers and plunged right in. Lies, even white lies, didn’t come easily to her.
“My great-aunt Emily passed away recently and left me some property in Venice,” she began. “I’m her only relative. I was named after her.”
To her relief, T.J. began to look interested. His blue eyes focused on her. “Venice, Italy?”
“No, Venice, California. It’s a small suburb outside of Los Angeles.”
“Yeah, I know the place,” he agreed. “The story of the area has always fascinated me. I remember hearing that seventy years ago a builder tried to recreate the original Venice, canals and all. Poor guy went broke when the Great Depression hit.”
“That’s the place,” Emily agreed. “My aunt told me he built the canals and a house or two and ran out of money when the depression hit. She and my late uncle bought one of them for a song.” The wistful smile that curved her lips touched him in spite of his determination to stay clear of women like her, no matter how desirable. “I used to visit during the summers when I was a little girl and dream I was in Italy.”
Gazing into Emily’s smile, T.J. began to imagine her as a little girl dreaming of faraway places. Such thoughts were not only dangerous, he told himself, they were too like the “husband” scenario she proposed. The next thing he’d be doing was picturing a little girl of his own. A little girl with auburn hair and hazel eyes just like her mother’s.
“Interesting,” he said, eyeing Emily in a speculative way that made her senses spin and her cheeks warm up. “But what does that have to do with me pretending to be your husband?”
Emily took a deep breath and decided to go the whole nine yards. “Aunt Emily used to keep after me to settle down and start a family.” When T.J. raised an eyebrow, she felt herself blush. “I know it sounds a bit old-fashioned, but after my broken engagement, Aunt Emily obviously worried I would be left alone the way she was after her husband passed away. I suppose that was why she left me the property with the provision I had to have a husband of my own in order to inherit.”
Mental wheels started to turn. For the first time, a ray of hope sprang into T.J.’s mind. “Pardon me for asking, but couldn’t you solve your problem by asking your former fiancé to do you a favor and pose as your husband?”
“No way,” she replied. A hard look came into her eyes. “Not when he left me for another woman. Under the circumstances, I don’t want him to know about the inheritance.”
With that door closed, T.J. thought rapidly. “The more I think about it, I can’t believe the marriage clause in your aunt’s will is legal. Or that a probate court would hold you to it.” He studied the hazel eyes that revealed so much of her thoughts. “You don’t really believe it, either, do you?”
“I’m not sure,” she answered. “The lawyer’s letter looked legitimate. I figured it would be best to line up a man before I did anything else. It seemed to be the easiest and quickest way to solve the problem.”
“What about the photograph you showed me? Couldn’t you show it to the lawyer as proof that you’re a married woman?”
She shook her head. “I tried doing that this morning before I got here, but the lawyer wouldn’t buy it. He wants to meet my husband. And, now that he’s seen the photograph, I can’t ask anyone else to come with me. It has to be you.”
T.J. glanced at the empty lemonade bottle and wished it had been something stronger. “It’s a gamble, you know. The guy might be smarter than you think.”
“Maybe, but I figured I’d cover all my bases.” The corners of Emily’s proud eyes glinted with tears. “I’m sorry. But I’m already in so deep, I don’t think I have a choice. My husband has to be you.”
T.J. gave up. A promise made by his brother to a woman like Emily Holmes was a promise he somehow felt obligated to keep. She obviously was innocent and deserved better. He’d have to take one day at a time. “When do we start?”
To his dismay, a look of hope came over her face. “This afternoon, four o’clock at my aunt’s lawyer’s office.”
He stopped to consider his commitment. Was he biting off more than he could chew? “And how long do we have to keep up the masquerade?”
“As long as it takes to convince the man you’re my husband.” She paused and looked worried. “Just don’t forget to act as though we were recently married.”
T.J. digested her reply. He came up with an answer that, under different circumstances might have actually been inviting if it had been his idea. Newlyweds? A pretend marriage, with hugs and kisses? With a woman as beautiful and fascinating as Emily Holmes?
Under the present circumstances, the sound of the scenario began to trouble him.
Scenes of his early childhood flashed through his mind. Terrifying scenes of himself and his little brother, both too young to understand their father had abandoned them. Or to understand why their mother had decided she couldn’t cope alone and had taken him and his brother to the Foundation for Homeless Children before she left.
A product of a failed marriage, abandonment and a series of foster homes, he’d vowed he would remain single until he found the right woman. And then only after he could be certain their marriage would provide a decent and loving home for their children. A marriage that would last.
Certainly not a pretend marriage that would merely last for an afternoon. And all for a piece of real estate?
He gazed solemnly at the anxiety in Emily’s eyes as she waited for his answer. And the slight tightening in her lips, no matter how she tried to hide it. He couldn’t help but be moved. Maybe owning the piece of real estate was as important to her as his dreams of a perfect marriage and family were to him.
“Just what does this property consist of that you’re so set on acquiring?”
“An old wooden cottage,” she answered with a hopeful smile. “The last time I saw it the paint was peeling, there was a hole in the roof, and the lawn had become weeds and dandelions. It wasn’t anything like the cottage where I used to spend my summers as a little girl. It broke my heart. I suppose that’s one reason why I decided to sell after I inherit.”
“And the other reason?”
“The job that’s waiting for me up north.”
When the sparkle in Emily’s eyes dimmed, T.J.’s heart ached for her. No one’s dream should end with a dilapidated wooden cottage. If Emily had been his real wife, he would have restored it for her.
Restoring vintage buildings was more than a profession to him. He loved to recreate the hopes and dreams that had gone into their creation.
“I remember hiding behind the curtains of a window seat overlooking the canal and dreaming of seeing the real Venice someday,” she went on, the wistful smile back on her face. “And that’s what I intend to do now—see the real Venice.”
As she spoke, T.J. pictured a young Emily hiding behind curtains, dreaming innocent childhood dreams. He felt compassion for the child obviously still in her. And, for that matter, the child within him.
He had his own dreams, too. Dreams he couldn’t pursue. He had responsibilities to his invalid father, his brother, and the foundation that had brought them all together. Marriage and a family of his own had taken a back seat.
The irony of it all was he was about to pretend to be married to a woman he hadn’t set eyes on until an hour ago.
Gazing into Emily’s eyes, there was no longer any doubt he was doing the right thing in filling in for his brother. For a day. Further than that, he wasn’t prepared to go.
“Hey, boss,” a loud voice shouted. “What’s next, or are we through for the day?”
Startled out of his reverie, T.J. turned back. Clouds of dust covered the work site where a truck was delivering additional used bricks. Someone had turned on a CD player and strains of music filled the air. Several of the work men had disappeared from view. At this rate, it would be touch-and-go for the restoration project to come in on time. He’d been so engrossed in Emily’s story, he hadn’t noticed how much time had passed.
Wait until he got his hands on his brother!
What troubled him was that he’d always been an either/or type of guy, with no gray in between. “The truth and nothing but the truth” had always been his motto. Yet here he was, trading his convictions for the look in a pair of innocent hazel eyes.
He felt like a fraud for letting Emily believe he was Tim. Thinking of what might happen to Emily if he didn’t go along with her, he couldn’t help himself. “I’ll put the men back to work and see you back at the hotel. By the way, you don’t happen to have the address of the Venice property on you, do you?”
She rummaged in her purse and handed him a slip of paper. “I was hoping you’d ask. See you around three-thirty? You won’t forget, will you?”
As soon as Emily was out of earshot, T.J. called to his foreman. “Take over for me this afternoon, Duke. I’ve got an important appointment.”
Duke pointedly glanced over T.J.’s shoulder. “With the babe?”
“With the lady!” T.J. corrected him sharply. His gut instinct told him Emily Holmes was every inch a lady, no matter how she was dressed. Or what kind of outlandish ideas she came up with.
Troubled, T.J. watched Emily disappear around the corner. The hope in her voice and the appeal in her unforgettable eyes stirred unwelcome emotions in him. Emotions he had no time for. He had to remember this was a game and only a game.
Chapter Three
It took T.J. twenty minutes to reach the address in Venice. And twenty seconds to realize Emily had inherited a treasure. A gem, a jewel of Depression architecture and surely of historical value.
To add to the ambience of the setting, salty air blew in from of the Pacific Ocean, no more than a block away. Newly reworked canals ran in front of the property and new condominiums filled the once-empty lots.
A restorer of vintage buildings, T.J. recognized a one-of-a-kind survivor of the Depression era in the cottage on the property Emily had described. Built of wood, genuine lathe and plaster with beveled glass windows, the weathered white cottage fronted the canal where bridges crossed over to the other side. A new condominium complex filled the lot next door.
The land on which the cottage sat was surely worth a small fortune, he mused as he paced the walk in front of the cottage. Gazing at the weathered frame dwelling and picturing the interior treasures that must surely be inside, his mind rebelled at the thought the cottage would be razed once Emily sold it.
There had to be an alternative. He could offer to buy the cottage in order to save it. Before he did, should he tell her up front how valuable he thought the property was? Was thinking of buying it from her even ethical?
For that matter, was it ethical to masquerade as Emily’s husband and go along with her fantasy for insuring her inheritance?
Thought after troubled thought tumbled through T.J.’s mind. He respected Emily’s desire to live out her dream, but at one time, the cottage had been someone’s dream, too. There had to be some way to satisfy Emily and save the cottage at the same time.
He sighed, glanced at his watch and went to his car. He still had to clean up and meet Emily at the hotel. Without time to make plans or to investigate the lawyer’s honesty, he had to go along with Emily for now. But he had bigger ideas if her plan failed.
He called her from the hotel’s front desk. While he was waiting, he strolled over to check out “The World of Posters,” a sampling of the early motion picture movie posters to be auctioned off by Sotheby’s. He studied the Adventures of Robin Hood poster, circa 1938. Price: $12,000 to $18,000. A 1940 Pinocchio poster priced at $5,000 to $8,000. A Wizard of Oz poster offered at a starting bid of $9,000 to $12,000.
A discreet notice mentioned the rare posters would be put up for sale at Sotheby’s auction gallery next week.
He’d spent hours in old movie houses researching early architecture and interiors for authenticity in his restoration business. His interest had soon turned into a genuine respect for the dreams of yesterday, of which the posters were prime examples. What he was admiring was, in his mind at least, priceless.
“Beautiful, aren’t they?” Emily’s wistful voice sounded behind him. “I’d love to be able to buy the Wizard of Oz poster. Maybe because of Dorothy’s Auntie Em. She reminded me of my own Aunt Emily.”
“I was more sympathetic to the Straw Man wishing he had a brain,” T.J. laughed. “When I was a kid, I used to think I was missing a brain, too. Especially when my grades weren’t as good as Dad thought they ought to be.”
Emily smiled. “Maybe I’ll be able to buy a poster like this after I sell my inheritance.”
“Let me buy the property from you,” T.J. offered impulsively. “You can get started making some of your dreams come true.”
She looked up in surprise. “That’s considerate of you, but I’m afraid the cottage is very old. It can’t be worth much.”
“It is to me,” T.J. said, attempting to visualize the interior of the cottage. “I’m in the building restoration business, remember? Finding a building like that cottage is like finding a treasure.” When she looked surprised, he added, “I drove by to take a look at it on my way over here.”
“Then you know what condition it’s in. It would take a lot of money to fix it up. Maybe it should come down.”
Telling Emily about his suspicion the property was more valuable than she realized might be premature, he thought uneasily. His conscience prodded him to at least tell her part of the truth. “Maybe you’ll want to have the cottage restored yourself. I’ll be happy to help.”
“Thank you, no. I’m not going to live there,” she replied. “Selling the property is the only way I can turn some of my childhood dreams into reality.”
“Speaking of reality,” he said soberly, “maybe we ought to check out the marriage clause in your aunt’s will before we see the lawyer? I’m not sure, but I can’t believe it’s legal.”
“You may be right.” Emily led the way out of the hotel lobby into the crowded street. “But I’m in so deep with the lawyer now, I’ll have to go through with the marriage bit first.”
T.J.’s convictions warred with his desire to help her. He and his brother might look alike, but he was older by five
years. Surely the difference showed in a photograph. “I think I ought to tell you I don’t think the lawyer will believe I’m the man in the photograph.”
“Don’t even think about it!” Emily stopped short and turned around to confront him.
Caught by surprise, T.J. plowed into Emily and rocked her on her feet. Instinctively, his arms went around her to help her regain her balance.
To his satisfaction, she felt soft where a woman should be soft, and she smelled like summer flowers. Her auburn hair smelled of scented soap and an essence of peppermint clung to her. Her lips parted in a gasp of surprise.
He couldn’t help himself. Before he could stop to think, he instinctively bent to take those lips with his. Instead of pushing away, she unexpectedly closed her eyes, put her arms around his neck and leaned into his kiss.
That was the signal T.J. was waiting for. He pressed her lips apart and sought a haven for his tongue in her minty-scented mouth. When she responded with a soft moan, he probed gently, questioningly. In response, her tongue dueled with his.
His knees felt weak. Time stood still. His resolve to keep his distance from Emily began to fade. He forgot he was her temporary husband and that she was just passing through his life. He told himself he was just giving in to an impulse. An impulse that had been born the moment his startled gaze had connected with her warm hazel eyes.
Emily responded to T.J.’s kisses with a mind at war with her body. She was no stranger to kisses, after all, she’d been engaged. But this kiss, this man, were different from the embraces she’s shared with her ex-fiancé.
Where Sean’s kisses had been demanding, this man’s kiss was warm and tender and invited her response. Where Sean’s embraces had been quick and self-serving, this man’s embrace invited her to linger. When his hands ran over her back and pressed her close to him, she forgot her ex-fiancé and the errand that had brought her here.
Until the doorman coughed.
Startled, she saw they were surrounded by amused spectators. A few clapped. A passing motorist sounded his horn.