by Mollie Molay
A horn sounded a tattoo, and T.J. glanced up to see his father’s specially equipped van roll up to the work site. Since the automobile accident two years ago, he’d conducted business from home.
T.J. took another swallow of tepid water and sauntered to meet the van. “What brings you here this morning, Dad?”
“Just dropped in to say hello,” his father replied. “Give me a minute.”
With a push of a button, the motorized front seat sank to earth level. With the push of another button, the side door slid open to reveal a wheelchair.
T.J. knew his father needed to feel self-sufficient, so he waited until his father was seated in the chair.
“So, what’s up, Dad?”
His father wheeled himself under the tree and locked the chair’s brakes. “What makes you think something’s up?”
T.J. regarded his father through a growing haze. He loved his father, owed him big. “I know you, Dad. You wouldn’t have come here instead of phoning if you didn’t have something on your mind.”
Instead of looking him in the eye, his father fussed with the lock on the wheelchair. “Just checking out your progress on the station, for one.”
T.J. shook his head and tried to clear it long enough to think. “No problem, we’ve been working overtime so we’re right on schedule. Finished gutting most of the interior two days ago. Right now, we’re rebuilding two of the walls.”
“You’ve left the fireman’s pole intact, I hope,” his father reminded him. “The Swansons want to build an iron circular staircase around the pole to give the place some atmosphere.”
“Or maybe they want to play fireman.” T.J. gazed at the building and tried to visualize the old fire station as someone’s home. “Good thing there are some people who are interested in restoring old buildings instead of tearing them down.”
His father raised a questioning eyebrow. “What brought that on?”
T.J. glanced over to where Duke was making a show of being busy. “Tell you what, Dad. You spill your story, and I’ll spill mine.”
His father laughed. “Yeah, well, it’s not something I wanted to discuss over the telephone. I’ve lined up a new job. How would you like to move to Hawaii for a year?”
A year in paradise? Who wouldn’t? T.J. knew his spirits should be flying; instead his heart sank like a lead balloon. Leave Emily to fight for her inheritance alone? Let someone take advantage of her? He couldn’t, not with a clear conscience. Who would help her and keep her out of trouble if he didn’t?
“I don’t think so,” he said, trying to focus on his father’s offer. “At least, not now. I’ve got something on the back burner to take care of.”
“A lady?”
T.J. recognized Duke’s fingerprints all over the question. “Not entirely.” He wiped his throbbing brow. It would be a miracle if he didn’t pass out in his father’s lap. “On the other hand, maybe, but not for long.”
“Heck.” His father laughed. “You’re beginning to sound like your brother. What do you mean, not for long?”
T.J. mustered a weak grin. When it came to Emily, he was beginning to feel like Tim. Except that he normally wasn’t the love-’em-and-leave-’em kind of guy. When he found the right woman, he’d play for keeps.
He told his father about Emily, her mistaking him for Tim, and his decision to cover for Tim. He ended with the visit to her aunt’s lawyer to collect her inheritance.
“Doesn’t sound like you,” his father said as he eyed T.J. “You’re as straight as an arrow. The lady must have had some power of persuasion to get you to go along with a wild scheme like that. So tell me, is it Emily you’re interested in, or is it the Venice property?”
“Emily, I guess,” T.J. answered. “But to be honest, I’d like to save the cottage from a wrecking ball. It’s the best example of Depression architecture I’ve ever seen. The location in front of a real canal makes it one of a kind.”
“Well, no harm done as far as I can see,” his father said cheerfully. “Even though Tim was the one to involve you, you did the right thing. But,” his father added with a faint smile, “I get the feeling the story isn’t over. Or am I wrong?”
“No,” T.J. confessed. “I don’t know if it’s too much exposure to the sun that has me feeling so confused, but you’re right. Fact is, I can’t seem to put Emily out of my mind.”
“Shows you’re just as human as the rest of us, my boy. If the lady is as wonderful as you say she is, you’re lucky.” His father eyed him shrewdly. “To tell the truth, son, I’d almost given up on you providing me with a couple of grandchildren.”
“Grandchildren? No way. I was talking about helping Emily, not marrying her.” T.J. frowned at the idea. “Hell, I’m only thirty-three. There’s plenty of time for grandchildren. At the rate Tim falls in and out of love, he’ll bite the dust and beat me to fatherhood. I know better. I have too many responsibilities to think about a wife and children.”
“Maybe so, but don’t forget I’m not getting any younger. So, as for this Emily of yours, go ahead and try to help her. Just try not to get arrested. There’s the family reputation to think of.”
T.J. felt too weak to laugh. His widowed father was in his early sixties and handsome enough for women to take a second look—wheelchair and all.
As far as romancing Emily, hell, he wasn’t that far gone. He’d know the right woman when he found her, and he hadn’t found her yet.
Helping Emily was another story. He’d already made up his mind to go to the hotel and offer his advice. In spite of the strong attraction he felt for her, advice was where he intended to draw the line.
All the talk about grandchildren made him shiver. His father might dismiss T.J.’s responsibilities, but not him. He owed his adoptive father big, and he was man enough to remember it.
“How about the Hawaii deal?” his father asked when they were back at the van.
“I don’t think so, Dad. Why don’t you ask Tim to go out there and size up the project? At the rate he’s going, he needs something to keep him out of trouble.”
“Good idea. I’ll think about it,” his father called out the window before he drove away.
At four o’clock, T.J. headed for home. A quick, cold shower and a cup of hot, black coffee didn’t make him feel any better. What he needed was a shot of brandy and a good night’s sleep, but he couldn’t take the time. He had to find Emily before she did something stupid.
He climbed into his car, turned on the air conditioner and headed for the Beaumont Hotel. Maybe he should have called first, but he had the uneasy feeling if he stopped moving, he’d fall flat on his face.
“Is Miss Emily Holmes in?”
The desk clerk checked his computer and nodded. “Shall I announce you, sir?”
“The name’s Kirkpatrick,” T.J. managed to answer. “Go ahead, but please make it quick.” When the desk clerk raised a questioning eyebrow, T.J. held on to the counter. “Sorry,” he said, “but the way the floor keeps moving makes me feel like hell. I’ve got to sit down pretty soon, or I’m going to fall down.”
The clerk glanced around him warily. “Moving, sir?”
“Yeah,” T.J. said as he grasped the counter more firmly. “I sure hate these aftershocks, don’t you? I keep waiting for the big one.”
“Aftershocks?” The clerk looked apprehensive. “I didn’t feel any earth movement.”
T.J. shrugged. “Well, I did. Maybe you’d better call Miss Holmes now.”
“Yes, sir.” The clerk kept a wary eye on T.J. while he made the call. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll send Mr. Kirkpatrick right up.” He regarded T.J. doubtfully for a moment before he gave in. “Room 1224, Mr. Kirkpatrick. Miss Holmes is waiting for you.”
T.J. took the elevator to the twelfth floor and carefully made his way down the hall. Ahead of him, a door opened and Emily appeared. She was wearing a robe, her hair was caught up on top of her head, and her feet were bare. It looked as if she was about to take a shower. He barely made it to her si
de before he staggered.
Emily rushed to steady him. “You look terrible! What happened? What are you doing here?”
“One question at a time, please,” he replied. “But before I answer, do you mind if we go inside where I can sit down?”
Emily helped him inside her room and to an upholstered armchair. His face was white, his eyes were glazed, and his forehead was studded with beads of sweat. A vein at the side of his throat throbbed as if he’d been running. His open shirt revealed moisture on his chest. In his present condition, she was surprised he’d been able to stand on his feet.
No wonder the desk clerk had called back and warned her her visitor looked and acted strange. He’d been right. And what was this about aftershocks?
“Are you sure you feel well enough to be here tonight?” she asked. “It looks as if you would have been better off home in bed.”
“I’ll feel better as soon as the walls and the floor stop moving.” She could tell T.J. was trying hard to keep his eyes open.
She felt his forehead. In spite of the air-conditioning, his head was burning up. “You feel very warm,” she said. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
T.J. nodded. “Maybe it was too much sun, the water, or maybe something I ate this morning,” he muttered, “but I have to admit I feel rotten.” He shuddered and held his hand over his eyes. “Those damn aftershocks don’t help.”
Aftershocks? With an answer like that, Emily knew T.J. had to be sicker than he thought. She had heard enough about the effects of too much exposure to the sun to begin to worry. She felt his head again, headed for the telephone and asked to speak to a doctor.
“The doctor is too busy to come up right now,” she told T.J. when she hung up. “But he’s given me some instructions on what to do until he gets here.”
T.J. mumbled something, leaned his head against the chair and seemed to fall asleep.
She tried to remember the doctor’s instructions. Bed rest, if she could get him into bed, sounded doable. But salt tablets? Have the patient drink as much liquid as he could hold? Rub him with cold towels to get his temperature down? It wasn’t going to be easy. With T.J. in his present condition, she’d have to do it all on her own. She didn’t have a prayer of getting him to cooperate.
She mulled over the option of calling back the doctor and pleading stupidity. The more she debated the thought, she realized it was no option at all. But it was payback time.
T.J. had stuck his neck out, gone with her to the lawyer’s office when, clearly, he hadn’t wanted to. She didn’t know why he was here now, but the least she could do was help him when he obviously needed her.
Except that she didn’t have any salt tablets and didn’t know where she could find any. A cold water rub was possible, but she’d have to take his clothes off. The thought of his nude, masculine body made her own body warm. She eyed him uneasily and steeled herself to do the right thing.
It took a lot of coaxing before she was able to persuade T.J. to stand up and put an arm around her shoulders. With a firm grip on his wrist and her arm around his waist, she slowly led him the few short steps to the double bed. “Here, you can rest while we talk.” With a sigh of relief, he let go of her shoulder and fell facedown on the bed. A snore told her he was fast asleep.
Emily bit her lip and considered trying to wake him up. In his present condition, there was no way he was going to move unless she did it for him. She took a firm grip on one of his shoulders, pushed, and shoved until she managed to turn him over on his back. “T.J., wake up,” she commanded. “If I’m going to help you, I could use a little cooperation.”
It was like speaking to the wall.
His eyes remained closed, his breath was labored and beads of sweat continued to pour from his forehead. He smelled of perspiration and shaving lotion and was out like a light. She felt the side of his neck for his pulse. It was beating madly. To complicate matters, he was obviously too sick to undress himself. She was on her own.
With a sigh, she gently brushed T.J.’s bronze hair from his forehead. Trying to discount her sensual response to him wasn’t going to be easy, but she steeled herself to ignore it. After her failed engagement, she wasn’t going to let any sexual attraction get in her way. She’d been down that road before.
She debated her choices, then took off his shoes and socks and, accompanied by his groans of protest, wrestled him out of his jacket and damp shirt. She felt herself flush at what would come next. What would T.J. think when he woke up and found himself naked? What would he say once he realized she’d been the one to undress him?
Enough was enough, she thought as she headed for the bathroom with the chrome pitcher she’d found on the nightstand. She’d undress him only as far as his jeans. He’d have to start getting better from the top of his head to his waist. Further than that, she couldn’t bring herself to go.
The rest of him would have to take their chances.
As for getting water in him, her chances of that were slim to none.
He lay quietly enough when she started on his forehead. So far, so good. It wasn’t until she rubbed the cold towel across his throat and nude shoulders that he moaned and flinched.
“Take it easy, T.J.,” she soothed. “Take it easy. This will only last a few minutes. You’re going to feel better, soon.” To her relief, he seemed to relax at the sound of her voice.
She wrung out another wet towel and started on his shoulders. She had reached his muscular chest when he stirred again.
“Emily, is that you?”
“Yes,” she answered with a reassuring a pat on his shoulder. “I’m here.”
To her dismay, he reached up and pulled her down beside him. Before she could protest or move, he threw an arm over her waist, a leg over her hips and turned his face into the hollow between her breasts.
Helpless to move, Emily froze. When he slowly moved his hand from her waist to push her robe aside, and tenderly brushed her breasts, she couldn’t have moved if she tried. Not even when sparks of sensual electricity followed where his hand led.
What was he going to do next? she wondered uneasily. And what would she do if he went any further? She was tempted to relax. After all, who would know besides her? Before she had a chance to decide, he hugged her to him and fell back against the pillows, fast asleep.
She let out her breath. Considering her response to his unexpected embrace the other day, it was just as well the decision was out of her hands. She shook his shoulder. “T.J.? You have to let me get up!” To her dismay, she was rewarded by a satisfied smile and a snore.
She debated whether she should try to move from under his sheltering arm and leg or let him sleep. If she couldn’t finish rubbing him down with cold towels, at least he was getting the rest the doctor ordered. Sleep was good for him, wasn’t it?
Emily glanced around the small room, just large enough to accommodate the double bed, the upholstered chair and a small table positioned by the window. Moonlight had begun to drift in through the curtains. Her choice was to remain on the double bed with him or, if she was able to move him off her, to spend an uncomfortable night in the chair.
She glanced down at T.J. He was either unconscious or sound asleep. She smothered the temptation to feel his forehead to see if his fever had lifted. Considering her enjoyable reaction to his nude chest against her own almost nude body, touching wasn’t a good idea.
It was going to be a long night.
Chapter Five
“Em?”
Emily groaned, cuddled deeper into the bedding and tried to ignore the voice calling her. Since only one person other than her late aunt and her mother called her Em, she had to be dreaming.
“Em!” the voice called again. Her heart softened at the sound of her nickname. She opened her eyes to see a bewildered T.J. propped up on an elbow and gazing down at her in surprise. “What are you doing in my bed?”
Her nostalgic thoughts vanished with a heartbeat.
She sat up, pulled the cover to her
chin and gazed up into clouded eyes inches from her own. She remembered thinking she should have tried to put a barrier of pillows between them, but with his limp weight over her, she hadn’t had a chance.
She stared into his smoky-blue eyes. How could she tell him why they were in bed together, or explain why she hadn’t pulled herself loose sometime during the night? She had a feeling he wouldn’t believe her if she did. She had a hard time believing it herself.
She was embarrassed. And not only at the memory of the heat that suffused her after he’d thrown his arm and leg across her and touched her intimately before he’d fallen asleep. It was the way his unconscious embrace and his soft breath against her cheek had felt so right that she’d given in to the inevitable and fallen asleep.
Last night, those thoughts had seemed harmless. She’d planned to work herself loose before morning. She’d figured he’d never know she remained all night. Now that he was awake and staring down at her with puzzled eyes, it was a different story.
“You must have really been out of it when you showed up here last night,” she answered, looking at the creases of sleep on his bronzed face, glad that the color was almost normal again. He’d looked so deadly white the night before. “You looked awful, but you look better now.”
“Glad to hear it,” he mumbled, running a shaking hand across his forehead. She caught herself wanting to touch his forehead with her lips to check his fever.
“Sorry, I’m afraid I don’t know where ‘here’ is,” he answered gazing around the room. “And I still don’t understand what you’re doing in my bed.”
Conscious of his eyes on her, Emily inched out from under him and wrapped her robe more securely around her. “Your bed? You must be sicker than I thought. This is my hotel room and my bed. You’ve been here all night.”
“No way,” he answered firmly, and struggled to get up and on his feet. “Give a guy some credit. I never would have forgotten something as intimate as that.”
Emily went to the dresser to brush her hair, avoiding his eyes in the mirror. The way she was responding to him, she couldn’t trust herself to meet his gaze. She tried to concentrate on his health. If he could try to make a joke out of finding himself in bed with her, he had to be feeling better. Enough was enough.