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Bachelor-Auction Bridegroom
Mollie Molay
A thunderous crack of the auctioneer's gavel and $350 later Emily Holmes "owned" Bachelor #46, all six gorgeous feet of him! T. J.Kirkpatrick was going to have to pony up more than dinner and a movie, though. Emily needed a husband–her inheritance depended on it. T.J. insisted that he was no spousal specimen, but if being "married" meant playing newlyweds, then he'd happily masquerade as Emily's man. The charade proved all too real, for T.J.'s kisses made her heart race–and time stand still. And now that she'd unexpectedly fallen madly in love with her "husband," she intended to get them going…going…gone–right to the preacher!


“I—I want you to be my husband.”
T.J. choked on his lemonade. “Say again?”
Emily swallowed hard and squared her shoulders. “I said I want you to be my husband.”
T.J. blinked. If she’d announced a meteor was hurtling toward earth and was about to land at his feet, he couldn’t have been more surprised. Either he was a victim of sunstroke or a stranger had asked him to be her husband!
“You’ve got the wrong man. You’ll have to find someone else to give you a wedding ring.”
“Wait! I only intended to ask you to pretend to be my husband. And only for one day.”
“The answer is no, not for five minutes, let alone one day.” Red-blooded man that he was, T.J. might have given Emily Holmes his attention, all right, but she wasn’t going to have him for a husband, no matter how tempting she looked in that wisp of a dress she was wearing….
Dear Reader,
This month, Mills & Boon American Romance delivers your favorite authors and irresistible stories of heart, home and happiness that will surely leave you smiling.
TEXAS SHEIKHS, Mills & Boon American Romance’s scintillating continuity series about a Texas family with royal Arabian blood, continues with His Shotgun Proposal by Karen Toller Whittenburg. When Abbie Jones surprised Mac Coleman with the news of her pregnancy, honor demanded he give her his name. But could he give his shotgun bride his heart?
Another wonderful TOTS FOR TEXANS romance from bestselling author Judy Christenberry is in store for you this month with Struck by the Texas Matchmakers, in which two children in need of a home and several meddling ladies play matchmakers for a handsome doctor and a beautiful lawyer. Mills & Boon American Romance’s theme promotion, THE WAY WE MET…AND MARRIED, about marriage-of-convenience romances, begins this month with Bachelor-Auction Bridegroom by Mollie Molay. And old passions heat up in Leandra Logan’s Family: The Secret Ingredient when Grace North’s first crush, now a single father, returns to town with his precocious little girl and ends up staying under the heroine’s roof.
Enjoy this month’s offerings and come back next month for more stories guaranteed to touch your heart!
Wishing you happy reading,
Melissa Jeglinski
Associate Senior Editor
Mills & Boon American Romance
Bachelor-Auction Bridegroom
Mollie Molay


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
“For Jennifer Walsh, thank you. Here’s to a great future!”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
After working for a number of years as a logistics contract administrator in the aircraft industry, Mollie Molay turned to a career she found far more satisfying—writing romance novels. Mollie lives in Northridge, California, surrounded by her two daughters and eight grandchildren, many of whom find their way into her books. She enjoys hearing from her readers and welcomes comments. You can write to her at Mills & Boon Books, 300 East 42nd St., 6th Floor, New York, NY 10017.
Books by Mollie Molay
MILLS & BOON AMERICAN ROMANCE
560—FROM DRIFTER TO DADDY
597—HER TWO HUSBANDS
616—MARRIAGE BY MISTAKE
638—LIKE FATHER, LIKE SON
682—NANNY & THE BODYGUARD
703—OVERNIGHT WIFE
729—WANTED: DADDY
776—FATHER IN TRAINING
779—DADDY BY CHRISTMAS
815—MARRIED BY MIDNIGHT
839—THE GROOM CAME C.O.D.
879—BACHELOR-AUCTION BRIDEGROOM
BACHELOR #46


Contents
Prologue (#u13f9c878-f6bb-5749-b98f-597c3dd566f3)
Chapter One (#uc6763c2d-a075-5c5f-89dd-5243599d7af0)
Chapter Two (#uc981af85-ab39-5801-9be1-6d8581efb454)
Chapter Three (#ue1bbced1-d8b2-54f6-a7b9-a3f885cc291d)
Chapter Four (#ub6156742-2807-539f-ac01-9b6d9d5a659b)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Prologue
The auctioneer called for a minimum bid of one hundred dollars. A timid voice at the front of the room echoed the bid. Emily raised her hand and shouted, “One hundred and twenty-five!”
“He’s mine,” a voice at the back of the room yelled enthusiastically. “Two hundred!”
Emily bit her lower lip and clutched her purse. Her funds were severely limited, and she was rapidly reaching the bottom of her wallet. But time was running out, and she had to have the man. “Two hundred and twenty-five!”
“Let’s get real here,” called her bidding rival. “The guy’s mine. I bid three hundred!” The man on the stage grinned, stuffed his hands in his pockets and winked at Emily.
Emily blinked at the blatant invitation from Number 46. Her first reaction was to brush him off and wait for the next man. After all, she reminded herself, what she had in mind was a business arrangement, not a seduction.
Her second and involuntary reaction surprised her. “Three hundred and fifty!”
The man on the stage raised his eyebrows. A smile of approval curved at the corner of his lips. The crowd began to murmur and crane their necks to look at the latest bidder. Emily wanted to hide.
The auctioneer intoned, “Going, going,” and silence filled the room. With the word “gone!” and a crack of a wooden gavel, Number 46, all six feet of him, was hers. The crowd broke into applause. Instead of being elated at her victory, Emily’s heart sank to her toes. Now what?

Chapter One
Number 46 watched the winning bidder slowly make her way to the stage to claim him. She appeared to be a conservatively dressed businesswoman with auburn hair, porcelain skin, and hazel eyes the color of an early morning western sunrise. She might be trying to look all business, but her short skirt and slender, shapely legs gave her away.
Something told him that under her carefully groomed exterior was a sensuous woman. In any case, as far as he could see, she was a dream walking. His spirits perked up. Maybe being “rented” as a date for a day wouldn’t be so bad after all.
He began to have second thoughts as she drew closer. There was something about her determined expression that telegraphed she was the type that played for keeps. The words “for keeps” weren’t even in his vocabulary, and he didn’t plan on adding them. Filled with belated misgivings at having volunteered for a bachelor auction, he fervently hoped his escort duties would be brief.
Receipt in hand, his buyer reached his side and glanced down at the program. “Mr. Kirkpatrick?”
He nodded politely and waited for her to identify herself. She blushed, and to his bemusement, her complexion turned a becoming shade of pink. “I’m Emily Holmes.”
“Pleased to meet you, Miss Holmes. T. J. Kirkpatrick at your service,” he replied politely. “What did you have in mind for the two of us?”
She blushed again.
He gazed at her quizzically. He may have thought she looked like a dream walking, but something about her body language told him there was more behind her bidding on him than met the eye. “You must have had something in mind when you bid for me. Right?”
Her expression was a study in contradictions. She nodded silently. Something was definitely wrong. It began to dawn on him that maybe being auctioned off to a strange woman hadn’t been such a good idea. Not even for a charitable cause.
He looked over her head at the cashier, who was watching them with interest. “Stay here for a minute. I’ll be right back.”
Her hand reached out to stop him. “Where are you going?”
The note of alarm in her voice and her grip on his arm stopped him in his tracks. “To get your money back for you. It looks to me as if you’ve changed your mind.”
“I haven’t. It’s not what you think,” she protested when his eyes narrowed. “Could we go somewhere private and talk?”
Private. Tim digested the idea for a minute. All of his instincts warned him he was teetering on the edge of deep waters. It was time to set the record straight. “I believe you may have made a mistake, Miss Holmes. Regardless of what this setup looks like, I’m not a professional gigolo.”
“I’m not looking for one,” she said firmly, squaring her jaw. Sparks of anger filled her eyes. “I won you as an escort for a day fair and square, Mr. Kirkpatrick, and I intend to have you face up to your agreement.”
His honor tested, Tim considered falling back on the alternate plan he used whenever his back was against the wall. What had started out as a joke had just lost its humor. A free spirit, the last thing he cared for was to be “won” by anyone, let alone by a woman high on looks and, if she took the auction that seriously, obviously one card short of a full deck.
But first things first. In case he had read the lady wrong, he intended to do the honorable thing. He reached for his wallet. “Here,” he said, offering her a wad of bills. “Keep your receipt. I don’t know what you had in mind, but I’ll give you your money back myself. That way you can have an income tax deduction and your money, too.”
“No, thank you,” she protested, backing away from his outstretched hand. “I don’t want your money. I want you. This receipt tells me you belong to me!”
His thoughts spinning, Tim gazed at his new owner. “Belong” sounded too permanent for his peace of mind. He’d have to see to it that their date was brief and took place where they would have lots of company. After all, how much of a problem could one date be as long as he kept it public? He nodded reluctantly.
Emily considered her prize. He was perhaps six feet tall, had brown hair streaked with gold and blue eyes that spoke of California summer skies. To add to her growing misgivings about her choice, he was decidedly too handsome for his own good.
Fortunately, he seemed to have a sense of humor, or he wouldn’t have offered himself to the highest bidder. Maybe he thought the whole idea of being on an auction block was a hoot. She didn’t.
He wasn’t her type, she thought as she gazed into his wary blue eyes. But nevertheless he appeared to be just the man she needed. He had to have a kind heart, or he couldn’t have allowed himself to be auctioned off for charity. She tried to ignore the uneasy feeling rushing over her. She was uncertain about her choice, but for better or worse, she was going to go with her instincts and hope for the best. Surely, the man must have a better side to him somewhere.
“Belong to you? In what way?” her prize asked cautiously.
“I want you to come with me and have our picture taken.”
He breathed a sigh of relief. “If all you want is a photograph, I guess I can do that.” He straightened his tie, ran his fingers through his hair and grinned. “If you ask me, $350 for a photo seems a little high. But if it’s a souvenir you want, why not? I’m game.”
Emily didn’t have the courage to tell him why she wanted to have her picture taken with him. Not yet, and not before she had her photograph. “Good. There’s an instant photo shop in the lobby. If you’re ready, let’s go.”
She was pleased to see him take a deep breath and shove his hands into his pockets. “I guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”
With her prize beside her, Emily took quarters out of her coin purse, poised her head carefully next to his and looked up into his eyes with a bright smile. When she was satisfied they looked like a happily married couple, she dropped in four quarters and pressed the button that gave her a husband. “There!” she said when the photographs slid out of the machine. “Just what I needed.”
“That’s swell! By the way, thank you for your donation, Miss Holmes,” her partner said amiably as he backed out of the booth. “The foundation thanks you, too.” Before she could stop him, he waved goodbye and started out of the photo shop.
“Wait a minute!” she called after him. “I forgot to tell you I may need you again tomorrow.”
He swung around and stared at her. His wary expression came back. “Tomorrow? You mean the photograph wasn’t enough for you?”
She shook her head. A guarded expression came over her face “Maybe. Maybe not.”
He smothered a groan. His high hopes for a quick getaway dashed, Tim’s heart sank. What she wanted with him was anyone’s guess, but it looked as if she intended to get her $350 dollars worth. “Why not get whatever you have in mind over with today?”
“Tomorrow,” she repeated firmly. She couldn’t tell him she needed one more day to go to plan number two if plan number one failed. Instead, she looked around to make sure no one could overhear her and went on to borrow the street language she’d often heard on television. “A deal is a deal. That is, if you can give a day’s work for two days’ pay.”
He winced as if her challenge hit too close to home. “Of course I can, but to tell the truth, I’m beginning to feel like a lamb being led to slaughter.”
“A lamb?” Her eyebrows rose as she considered the man who looked more like a rogue than a lamb. “Hardly, Mr. Kirkpatrick. You’re the furthest thing from a lamb I can think of. That’s why I wanted you.” She paused long enough for him to get the message. “And by the way, under the circumstances, you can call me Emily.”
“Circumstances?” Instead of looking chastened, he eyed her suspiciously. “What circumstances would that be?”
“I’ll tell you tomorrow.” She reached into her purse for a roll of the peppermints she chewed on whenever she was nervous and offered one to him.
“No, thanks,” he answered, his mind busy working on how to swim out of muddy waters before he got in over his head. He wondered just how soon he could fall back on his tried-and-true backup plan to get out of the way of trouble. “Why tomorrow and not today?”
“Tomorrow,” she repeated firmly, and popped a peppermint into her mouth.
His mind was made up. Emily Holmes was not the woman for him, but he knew just whom she was for. As far as he was concerned, his meeting with Emily Holmes had been ordained. Just the thought made him feel virtuous. “Maybe I ought to give you my business card and an address where you can find me if you need me. Say around noon?”
She took the card and carefully put it in her purse. “I’ll be there.”
PROMPTLY AT TWELVE, Emily showed up at the address noted on the business card T.J. had given her yesterday. She checked the address against the sign in front of the building site and relaxed. T.J. Kirkpatrick, Historical Building Restoration, was a real business. Recalling the calculating look in the man’s eyes yesterday, she’d been half-afraid the card had been a fake.
Ahead of her, four men in dusty jeans and worn T-shirts were busy rebuilding a crumbling red brick wall. A weathered sign across the front of the aging structure dated 1939 proclaimed the building to once have been a fire station. Today it looked more like a private building of some sort badly in need of repair. A dozen more men dressed in jeans, sleeveless T-shirts and helmets roamed over the site. When one man removed his hard hat and wiped his forehead, her gaze unerringly found the man she was looking for. All six feet of him.
She was in the right place.
He was wearing leather boots, worn jeans and a shirt open to his slim waist. Rolled-up sleeves revealed muscular forearms. His brow was beaded with sweat. The faint, dark shadow of a beard covered his tanned face. Clearly in charge of the operation, he was muttering to himself as he dried off his face and turned to check the efforts of the work crew.
Yesterday at the auction, she’d decided he wasn’t her type. Today her eyes widened, and her body warmed at the sight of him.
She’d taken their photograph to the law office yesterday afternoon as proof she was married. To her dismay, she’d been told she had to come up with the man himself.
There was something different about the man today, she thought as she waited for him to notice her. He looked a little older, taller, a bit more muscular and, if possible, more attractive. With his sun-tanned skin and muscular chest showing under his open shirt, he didn’t look to be quite the same man. In the photograph he’d reluctantly taken with her yesterday, he’d been dressed in a tailored suit, white shirt and paisley tie. An immaculate fop.
As a result, she’d spent a sleepless night planning this meeting and its intended outcome. Now that she was here, she was beginning to have her doubts. What she had in mind, coupled with his sexy appearance, made her wonder if she hadn’t gone overboard in her efforts to get his full cooperation. There was a problem. He was still the kind of man a woman liked to dream about, but not the kind of man a woman necessarily takes home with her. After being jilted by her too-handsome-for-his-own-good fiancé, she wasn’t going to go down that path again.
The more she gazed at her target, the more uneasy she became. Yesterday, he’d merely been a means for her to get her inheritance. Today, judging from her physical reaction, he’d turned into a flesh-and-blood man, decidedly striking.
His masculine appearance couldn’t be ignored, she thought. Not when his every move touched off an answering response in her.
She had to be honest and objective. It was her own appearance that was beginning to worry her. Deliberately calculated to draw T. J. Kirkpatrick’s interest and keep it until the task she had in mind for him was safely accomplished, she was afraid she might have overdone her appearance. She sighed and reached for a peppermint.
She might be a librarian whose worldview largely came from books, but she could recognize sensuous attraction when she felt it. And she felt it now. Maybe she would have been better off winning a harmless, ordinary man she wouldn’t have needed to impress. Considering the circumstances, sometimes a woman had to do what she had to do to get her man.
The men scattered over the site stopped to stare when she finally caught their attention. Whistles and catcalls filled the air. One or two waved, another threw down a pail and shovel and started toward her. The look in his eyes was clearly predatory. She fought the urge to leave.
T.J. turned to check out the activity. A studied smile pasted on her lips, a woman stood there looking as if she were poised to run. She was dressed in a wisp of a light-blue summer outfit that covered vital areas and little else. Her silky auburn hair flowed around her bare shoulders, and a single gold chain hung around her neck. A green jade charm dangled from the chain and lay between her breasts. When he could tear his gaze away from the jade charm, he noticed she held a small white cardboard box in her hand.
He took a second, calculating look around and decided he’d better check out the visitor before he had a mini-riot on his hands. He waved off the workmen and sauntered toward his visitor.
“May I help you?” His gaze took in the enticing areas of pink-tinged skin at her neck and shoulders, graceful, slender, bare arms and a body carved to perfection. Pink, manicured toes peeked from white sandals that matched her handbag. To his mind, she was the perfect package of femininity.
The way she affected him made his senses whirl and, in spite of his common sense, his body stir. Speculation as to why she was here in the first place blew his mind. He had to remind himself tempting women like her had no place on a job site. Not that he was a monk when it came to admiring and dating beautiful women, but at the moment he had more important things to think about.
“I told you I’d be here today,” she answered, following his gaze down her dress. She gave a little shrug in an effort to make the neckline of the dress move up a little higher, with no discernible results. When she noticed his growing interest, she shrugged again. To her chagrin, it only made matters worse. She tried a smile. “I figured this dress was more appropriate for this warm weather than what I was wearing yesterday.”
Appropriate? Yesterday?
T.J. glanced over his shoulder at the crew, who were making no bones about their enthusiasm for his unexpected visitor. “Take thirty!” he called before he turned back to his visitor. Behind him, his crew continued to laugh and joke about their visitor. Sure enough, “take thirty” didn’t mean a damn when there was a beautiful woman to look at.
He couldn’t blame them. He was taken by her, too. The brilliant sun overhead shone on fiery auburn hair and cast a golden glow over her very visible porcelain skin. To add to her appeal, when he got close to her, he discovered that her scent was fresh and minty. Pungent enough to sharpen his senses and add to his growing awareness of her charms.
It took a moment or two before his gaze swung to her intriguing hazel eyes. They were filled with questions. So was he.
Why was an attractive, obviously well-bred woman wandering around the construction site? And why was she dressed in an outfit surely calculated to draw male attention?
“Appropriate for what?” he prompted. When she stared wordlessly at him, he went on patiently. There was no use pushing her, and by now, he was in no mood to try. “How about starting with your name, or is it too much to ask?”
“My name is Emily Holmes. I told you that yesterday,” Emily answered, tearing her gaze away from the cleft in his chin. “As for what I have in mind, that’s what I came here to tell you. Just as I promised yesterday.” She glanced over at their audience and took a deep breath. “Is there someplace where we could talk privately while you have lunch?”
He glanced at his watch, shrugged and smiled. Heck, it was lunchtime anyway—or close to it. “I usually wait for a food truck to show up. Either you’re early or they’re late. At any rate, I didn’t brown-bag it today.”
She thrust the white cardboard box at him. “I didn’t want you to miss your lunch hour so I had the hotel kitchen put together a box lunch for you.”
“Thank you. A free lunch is something no hungry man would pass up.” He wiped his hands on a large bandanna he took from his pocket, glanced around the building site and finally pointed to a small grassy area shaded by a single tree. “Hang on while I find something for us to sit on. I wouldn’t want you to soil that outfit.” He cast a lingering glance at her cleavage before he strode away.
Emily bit back her reply and waited while he found, dusted off, and set up two empty crates under the tree. She might be a little underdressed, but at least she had his attention.
A lunch truck sounded its horn and drew up alongside the construction site. The crew cheered and headed for the truck.
“Lemonade?”
“Yes, thank you.” She took a seat and watched while T.J. ambled over to the truck and ordered two bottles of lemonade and a cup filled with ice. She’d never met a man quite like him. The sun glinted off his warm brown hair. His stride was confident. Yesterday at the auction, he’d appeared to be attracted to her. She hadn’t been interested, but today, for some reason, the feeling had become mutual. Not even her ex-fiancé had affected her this way. She shivered at the thought.
T.J. bantered with the truck driver and crew until he had them all laughing. Embarrassed at her own reaction, she didn’t know which got to her more: the sound of his easy laughter, or the way those tanned muscles rippled on his chest as he swung his hands.
Either way, T. J. Kirkpatrick could probably charm the birds right out of the trees, she mused as she watched him wave goodbye and stride back to where she waited. When he winked at her, she began to have second thoughts.
Somehow T. J. Kirkpatrick didn’t look to be the kind of man who would go quietly wherever she led. Maybe it would have been easier if he weren’t every woman’s walking dream. She’d have to remind him she’d won him fair and square and that this visit was strictly business. And, while she was at it, she’d remind herself he was the right man for the role she had in mind for him. Nothing more. When her need for his time was over, he’d be expendable.
T.J. handed her a cold bottle of lemonade and a plastic cup filled with ice. He opened the box lunch and looked inside. “Great! Two ham-and-cheese sandwiches, coleslaw, carrot and celery sticks, pickles and chocolate cake!” He looked at her for a long moment, then smiled. “Not bad! Not bad at all!”
She wasn’t sure he was still talking about the lunch.
To her discomfiture, he took a swallow of lemonade before his gaze raked her from the top of her head to her toes. “Let’s see now, Miss Emily Holmes. To begin with, you act as if we’ve met before. I don’t think so. If we had, I’m sure I would have remembered you.
“To add to the mystery, you show up here dressed in a way clearly calculated to rob a man of his common sense. You bring him a lunch designed to soften him up. And, to top it off, you haven’t stopped shivering since you got here.” He gestured to the tree that cast its shade above them. “Considering it’s ninety degrees in the shade, you can’t possibly be cold.” He stopped to contemplate her in a way that made her blood run swift and hot. “So, Miss Holmes, if that’s your real name, you must want something from me awfully bad.”
Mesmerized by the sound of his voice and the vein that throbbed at the side of his throat, Emily found herself lost in the magic of his masculine persona. She would have reached for another peppermint to calm her nerves, but she couldn’t move. The problem was the cat had gotten her tongue, butterflies were waltzing around her middle, and her mind had gone blank.
Still, the moment she’d planned down to the smallest detail had arrived. From the look in the man’s eyes, she’d obviously reached the point of no return. It was now or never.
She nodded helplessly.
He took another deep swallow of lemonade, wiped his lips with the back of his hand and eyed her thoughtfully. “So, Miss Holmes, just what is it you want from me?”
Emily swallowed hard and took a firm grip on her emotions. If the man thought she was out of her mind, so be it. “I—I want you to be my husband.”

Chapter Two
T.J. choked on the lemonade. “Say again?”
She swallowed hard and squared her shoulders. “I said I want you to be my husband.”
“That’s what I thought I heard you say.” T.J. repacked the lunch and thrust the box at her. “Here, you can have this back. You’ve got the wrong man. You’ll have to find someone else to give you a wedding ring. I may be hungry, but I’m not for hire. And certainly not with a box lunch.”
“Wait a minute!” She shoved the box at his stomach, forcing him to take a step backward to keep his balance. “You have the wrong impression. I wasn’t asking for a wedding ring. I only intended to ask you to pretend to be my husband. And only for one day.”
T.J. blinked. If she’d announced a meteor was hurtling toward Earth and was about to land at his feet, he couldn’t have been more surprised. Either he was a victim of sunstroke or Emily Holmes had asked him to be her husband!
No matter how inviting she looked in that wisp of a dress, neither choice was acceptable. Red-blooded man that he was, T.J may have given Emily Holmes his attention all right, but she wasn’t going to have him for a husband.
He shrugged and dropped the box lunch onto the crate at his feet. “The answer is no, not for five minutes, let alone one day. And certainly not while I still have the brains I was born with. Do us both a favor and find someone else.”
“I can’t,” she protested. “You cost me three hundred and fifty dollars. I don’t have the time or the money to make up another game plan.”
“Well, I’m sorry,” he said with a look over his shoulder at the men who were watching them, “I’m not interested. I have a ton of work waiting for me, and I’ve got to get back to it.”
“Wait a minute!” She reached out to stop him. “I’m not finished yet!”
“Sorry, I am.” He turned to go back to work, but the distressed look on her face stopped him. “Now look here, Miss Holmes, no matter who you think I am, I’m still not your man.” To his chagrin, she looked more determined than ever. “If you ask me, it looks as if someone has taken you for a sucker. Who’d you give the money to?”
“To the Foundation for Homeless Children. They had a bachelor’s auction yesterday at the Beaumont Hotel.”
At the mention of the foundation, pieces of the puzzle started to fit together. The answer to the case of mistaken identity was unhappily becoming clear. “I’ve heard of it,” he answered cautiously. “But I still don’t know what this has to do with me.”
“I bid more for you than I’d expected to. The fact is that I won you for a date fair and square. I didn’t have a date in mind yesterday, but I do now.”
“A date?” The thought of taking Emily Holmes out to dinner blew his mind, but at least it was better than being a husband. “You’ll have to make up your mind, Miss Holmes. Just what is it that you want of me?”
“I told you, I want you to be my husband.” When he shook his head, she went on. “You promised to do whatever I asked you to do.”
Enough was enough. Frustrated, T.J. rolled his eyes. “I’m telling you it wasn’t me. I swear I wasn’t even at the auction!”
“Yes, you were. You gave me your business card and agreed to meet me here today,” she went on stubbornly. “I can prove it!” She searched in her bag and came up with the business card. “There!”
T.J. reached for the card and muttered under his breath. There were no two ways about it, the card was his. Or at least, his company’s. “This must be someone’s idea of a joke.”
His mind awhirl with possibilities, T.J. fingered the card. Surely not his wheelchair-bound adoptive father. The two of them didn’t even look alike.
Cold chills ran down his spine when he recalled his brother joking about his participation in the foundation’s bachelor auction. The same foundation that had facilitated his and his brother Tim’s adoption. T.J. had been asked to participate in the auction himself, but pleading a heavy schedule, he’d made a generous contribution instead.
The answer to the case of mistaken identity was rapidly becoming clear.
What really blew his mind was Tim’s parting comment this morning before he left on an unexpected business trip. Laughing like a loon, he’d told T.J. he was sending him a surprise!
A surprise?
Emily Holmes?
He bit his lower lip. His younger brother’s fingerprints were all over this scenario. And not for the first time, either. Trading on their remarkably similar appearances was Tim’s traditional and not-too-novel way of getting out of the hot water in which he regularly found himself. T.J. was used to putting up with his nonsense, but sending Emily here today as a surprise was going too far. The time for Tim to grow up had passed.
He took a last, long swallow of lemonade, cleared his throat and plunged into muddy, deep waters. “I suppose I owe you an explanation, Miss Holmes. The fact is, T. J. Kirkpatrick is the name of the family business.”
When he had her frowning attention, he took a deep breath and gestured to the sign behind him. “Since my dad, my brother and I all have the same initials, it seemed more practical to use T. J. Kirkpatrick for our building restoration business. My father’s name is Thornton John, mine is Thomas Jefferson, and my brother is Timothy James.”
Emily’s eyes grew wide. “Don’t tell me all of you are called T.J.?”
“Not exactly, but close. My brother and I were renamed when we were adopted and my father, Tim and I all wound up with the same initials. My father is largely retired, so I’m called T.J. now. My brother is called Tim. He’s an architect. He should have told you so yesterday instead of giving you this card.” He smiled wryly. “Sorry for the misunderstanding.”
Her lips tightened, and her eyes lit up. He realized he hadn’t made a dent in her belief that he was the guy at the auction. Not that he blamed her. It wasn’t the first time people had reacted in disbelief to the similar initials. But never as badly as now.
She took a small photograph out of her purse and thrust it under his nose. “Men! I was afraid you’d try to weasel your way out of the deal, and I’ve turned out to be right. As far as I’m concerned, you made up that ridiculous story. It doesn’t wash with me, Mr. Kirkpatrick. I have this picture we took together yesterday to prove you and I were together. Everything I’ve told you is true.”
T.J. smothered a groan and reached for the photograph. It was the type of instant photograph a person could take at a drugstore, an airport or a hotel for twenty-five or fifty cents. He studied it carefully, the truth shimmering before his eyes. There was no doubt about it. The culprit in this caper was Tim.
“I swear this isn’t me,” he said, raising his right hand. “Hold on a minute and I’ll prove it to you.” He looked back at the work crew covertly admiring Emily. “My crew will back me up.”
“Don’t waste your time!” Emily retorted, her eyes blazing fire. “I wouldn’t believe any of them if they swore on a stack of Bibles. They’re probably afraid they’ll be fired if they don’t agree with you.”
In spite of his frustration, there was something about Emily Holmes that struck a chord in him. He’d never been attracted to passive personalities, women included. Hell, he wasn’t one himself. What did attract him to Emily was the way she was willing to fight for what she wanted. It was just too bad he was what she wanted.
Tim’s reason for sending Emily to the building site as a surprise for him was fast becoming clear. It was a setup by his comedian of a brother calculated to put Emily and him together.
Although he’d made a point of avoiding lasting relationships, he was no saint. For that matter, he’d had his share of dates and that was as far as he was prepared to go. The last thing he needed or wanted was to have Tim set him up with a woman who was looking for a husband.
“Sorry, there’s a strong resemblance between my brother and I, but this isn’t me,” he said, mentally kicking Tim. “I was here working overtime with a building inspector yesterday afternoon.”
He handed the photograph back and started to explain again that he and his brother Tim looked so much alike they were often taken for twins. As he tried to ignore Emily’s attraction, he had to convince the lady he didn’t intend to be her husband. Not to pretend. Not ever.
Then he gazed into Emily’s proud, innocent hazel eyes.
Skimpy attention-getting attire and an innate sensuality aside, T.J. sensed there was a vulnerability about Emily Holmes. He’d been in the business world long enough to know people weren’t always what they seemed, and that included Emily. He was even willing to bet she wasn’t a sexpot or a flirt out to get her man. What he did sense was that, for some unknown reason, she needed him desperately.
His first instinct had been to turn her down. His second was to reconsider. Maybe there was some way to help her without getting too involved.
He thought of trying to reach his brother. Make him come back to face up to his “commitment.” Bad idea, he thought with certainty as he gazed into Emily’s troubled eyes. Left to Tim’s devil-may-care clutches, the lady would be in deeper trouble than ever.
Mulling over his choices, he felt guilty, although he wasn’t sure why. After all, while Tim had been busy matchmaking, he was the one who had been taking care of the family business.
If his brains were functioning properly, he’d make his apologies for his brother and get back to work. And yet, as he studied the firebrand in front of him, he had the strong feeling she was clearly in need of his services.
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.
Emily tried to pull away. How could she have been so stupid? After Sean had jilted her for another woman, she’d sworn off becoming involved with a man, any man, hadn’t she? And yet here she was trading kisses with a man she’d met only yesterday. And wouldn’t see again after today.
“T.J., we have to stop,” she whispered into his lips. “We’re making a spectacle out of ourselves.”
The doorman coughed again. This time he got T.J.’s attention.
What was he doing kissing Emily like this anyway? T.J. wondered as he opened his arms and let Emily go. She was a stranger, after all. An unknown quantity. A woman he would never have met if it hadn’t been for Tim and his crazy matchmaking ideas.
“What did you think you were doing?” Emily sputtered. “We don’t even know each other!”
“I guess I was practicing,” he answered for want of a sensible explanation. How could he explain his unexplainable desire to take her in his arms the moment he laid eyes on her? “You did mention hugs and kisses.”
“Not in public and not in broad daylight, for heaven’s sake!” She looked appalled and cuter than ever.
Better than in private and in the dark, T.J. thought as he regarded well-kissed rosy lips and sparkling hazel eyes that revealed so much. Given the right setting, he knew damn well he wouldn’t have been able to stop with mere hugs and kisses. Not when Emily had been an eager partner.
Emily averted her eyes and forced her heart to return to a normal beat. She’d told him of her dream of visiting Italy, but she hadn’t spoken of another dream she’d nurtured until Sean had jilted her. A dream of home, hearth, and a lifetime of happiness with a man she loved, and who loved her. A man like T.J.?
She should have known better than to respond to his kiss, no matter how wonderful he made her feel. Yesterday at the auction she’d sensed he was a rogue at heart and maybe a little dangerous. True or not, she didn’t intend to become another conquest of his or of any other man’s.
She pasted on a tight smile so that anyone watching her would think she enjoyed T.J.’s embrace. “I meant I wanted you to be lovable at the lawyer’s office. Not out here on the street!”
He grinned. “Sorry about that. I’m a strong believer that practice makes perfect. We’ve got to make it look good, don’t we?”
Emily straightened her suit collar, tucked stray tendrils of hair behind her ears. But not before she reached into her purse for a roll of peppermints. “We’ll have to hurry, or we’ll be late.”
By now, T.J. was ready for anything that would take his mind off Emily’s lips. He held out his hand for a peppermint and popped it in his mouth. “Come on, my car is parked around the corner.”
“No need,” Emily answered as she started off down the street. “The lawyer’s office is just two blocks away. That’s why I chose this hotel.”
“Gotcha,” T.J. murmured gratefully. The pungent peppermint wasn’t doing much to keep his mind off Emily’s lips or the satisfying way she’d felt in his arm. Failing a cold shower, a brisk walk might do the trick.
The concrete buildings and the sounds of traffic along their way proved to be a distraction. By the time they reached their destination, T.J. had cooled off. Some, but not all the way. He was as aware of Emily as ever. And, judging from the overt glances she kept sending his way, the feeling was mutual.
Wilbur Daniels, the lawyer behind the gilt letters on the door to his office, regarded Emily quietly when his secretary announced them. As soon as they were seated, she introduced T.J. as her husband. Daniels raised an eyebrow. “Interesting. May I see the photograph again?”
“Of course.” With a warning glance at T.J., Emily handed over the small photograph, then reached into her purse for another peppermint.
By now T.J. recognized that the pungent candy was a sure sign Emily was nervous. And that beneath her outward bravado, there had to be a growing fear her plans could blow up and take her inheritance with it.
Between Tim’s well-intentioned matchmaking and the way he’d just manhandled Emily on a public street, T.J. felt he owed her. He had to give her a chance at the inheritance she had coming. Even if it took him posing as her husband. But first, there was the matter of the disturbing marriage clause.
He put his arm around Emily’s shoulders, hugged her to him and planted what he hoped was a welcoming kiss on her lips. He felt her soft moan of protest but was grateful she didn’t pull away. “Atta girl,” he whispered into her lips.
Daniels glanced from T.J. to the small picture and back again. “Kind of blurry, don’t you think?”
“It’s not studio quality, if that’s what you mean.” T.J. mustered a proud grin. “The truth is, when I met Emily I fell head over heels in love with her.” He laughed and squeezed Emily again. “I didn’t give her time to change her mind, let alone to have wedding pictures taken. I couldn’t wait to…” His voice trailed off. The wink he gave the lawyer finished the sentence.
“T.J.!” Emily admonished. A blush covered her face. “Mr. Daniels will think—”
T.J. broke in and finished the sentence for her. “He’ll think we’re a happily married couple, sweetheart.”
Daniels frowned. “Frankly, Mr. Kirkpatrick, in itself, the photograph is hardly proof of your marriage.” He tossed the picture on his desk, sat back in his leather chair and steepled his hands. “I’m afraid I’ll have to see your marriage certificate.”
“For Pete’s sakes! I didn’t think I had to carry it with me,” T.J. replied with a frown. “Did you, Em?”
Em. Emily stared at her temporary husband. How could he know that Em was the loving nickname her aunt had used for her? What was there about T.J. that made her heart beat faster even while her temper boiled?
“Of course not! No one carries around their marriage certificate.” Emily pulled away from T.J.’s arm and leaned across the mahogany desk. “Mr. Daniels. It’s my belief you’re making this more difficult for me than you need to!”
Daniels stood and closed the folder on his desk. “Not at all, Miss Holmes. It’s a matter of following my client’s wishes. And the law governing probate.”
“Mrs. Kirkpatrick! And don’t you forget it!” T.J. exploded. He jumped to his feet before he realized that if he didn’t watch himself, he’d be knee-deep in a possibly illegal conspiracy.
“Mrs. Kirkpatrick,” the lawyer amended. His complexion blanched, but he held his ground. “It doesn’t matter what I think. As an officer of the court, it is my duty to make sure your aunt’s wishes are carried out. And the wishes contained in her last will and testament clearly state you must be married in order to inherit her estate.”
T.J. sensed Daniels was far from convinced he and Emily were married. He sent her a warning glance. Whatever it would take to insure she got her inheritance wasn’t going to be accomplished here, or today.
Daniels glanced at Emily. “I’m going out of town for a few days. That should give you time to produce the certificate.”
As far as T.J. was concerned, the man’s trip out of town was too convenient to be true. Without coming right out and saying he doubted Emily was a married woman, Daniels was giving Emily time to hang herself.
T.J. intended to make sure Emily understood she was headed for trouble if she insisted they were married in order to gain her inheritance. Without a license or a marriage certificate, there had to be another way.
Back on the street, T.J. drew Emily into a small coffee shop. The comforting odor of freshly brewed coffee and the scent of warm cinnamon sticky buns were tantalizing. But they didn’t do much to ease the growing premonition sending icicles running up and down his spine.
He motioned to a table and headed for the serving counter.
“I hope you’re not thinking of doing something irrational or illegal,” he said when he rejoined Emily. “If you are, count me out.” He set the paper cups of hot coffee on the table and glanced at her clenched hands and tense lips.
She nodded her thanks. “Of course I’m not.”
“You’re not?” He wasn’t convinced, not when she couldn’t meet his eyes.
“I’m not,” she repeated. “I’m not even sure where to go from here. But I can tell you this. I’m not going to give up. My aunt wanted me to have the property, and I intend to fight for it.”
“I’m sure she did,” T.J. soothed. “It’s just too bad she added the marriage clause to her will. Maybe you ought to consult a lawyer of your own?”
“A lawyer might help,” Emily agreed. “Unfortunately, I don’t know any lawyers around here. I’d have to go back home to Placerville to find one.”
T.J. held his tongue. He was afraid if he gave her his own lawyer’s telephone number, he would be getting more involved with Emily than was wise. He was already too attracted to her for his own good.
Emily silently drank her coffee and mulled over her options. With none in sight, going back home and talking things over with her mother was the logical thing to do.
There was a problem: with T.J. across the table, she was in no mood to think logically. Not after the way she’d reacted to his unexpected embrace. Not after the way she’d reacted to his kisses, either. And certainly not when her senses were in a turmoil.
After she’d been jilted by Sean Foster, she’d sworn off men, hadn’t she?
She still had her dream of visiting Italy, didn’t she?
So why was she even thinking of the amazing way she’d felt after T.J. had taken her in his arms and kissed her senseless? Or why she could hardly wait for him to do it again?
“I think I’ll go back to the hotel and try to take a nap,” she finally remarked. Her head throbbed and her stomach was in knots. “These have been very trying days.”
“Sure,” T.J. answered, wishing he could take a nap with her. Maybe it was just as well he hadn’t been invited. He couldn’t have stopped with a nap. He settled for getting to his feet and reaching for her hand. “Come on, I’ll walk you back to the hotel.”
Emily’s comment about trying days was the understatement of the year. Courtesy of his brother, T.J. had gone from being a bachelor to being a married man in a matter of hours. Married to a woman he didn’t know.
He’d participated in a masquerade that looked as if it didn’t have a prayer of succeeding. The way things were now, he’d be lucky if he didn’t wind up getting charged with intent to commit fraud.
If that weren’t enough to keep his mind and body in turmoil, he was becoming more and more attracted to Emily Holmes.
He glanced uneasily at the woman who, intentionally or not, was rapidly turning his safe and ordered world around into a place where he couldn’t recognize himself. He was even afraid to imagine what her next move in this wacky scenario would be. Her ideas, at least so far, had been naive and maybe harmless. Unless he was mistaken, the next idea would probably be illegal.
Instead of thinking of taking a nap with Emily, he should have taken his head out to be examined.
“Trying days” was putting it mildly, Emily mused as she and T.J. walked back to the hotel. T.J.’s continued silence didn’t help, either.
Either he’d forgotten their earlier embrace, or he’d already dismissed their brief encounter. Maybe she’d given him too much credit for being sincere. Maybe she was just another conquest of his, after all.
T.J.’s devil-may-care attitude at the bachelor auction yesterday should have warned her he wasn’t reliable.
Meeting him this morning again at the construction site and having to coerce him into honoring his promise should have been proof of his character.
To top off a confusing day, winding up in his arms in front of the hotel this afternoon and returning his embrace as though they were lovers had been the most unsettling event of all.
She glanced at a more dangerous-than-ever T.J. out of the corner of her eye. How could she have been so foolish to have asked him to masquerade as her husband?

Chapter Four
Back to setting bricks in mortar, T.J.’s thoughts continued to linger on the troubled look in Emily’s eyes.
What the hell was wrong with him? One minute he was saying goodbye to Emily, and the next, he was kicking himself for not sticking around to help her.
He’d done his best to live up to the bargain Tim had left him, hadn’t he? Even when his personal convictions had been against posing as his brother.
A visit to the lawyer with Emily had been one thing, faking a marriage certificate was another.
Further than the visit, he told himself firmly, he wasn’t prepared to go.
The next scheme the lady had up her sleeve had to be a fake marriage certificate. The thought of that request coming down the pike had been enough for him to throw in the towel and say goodbye.
Sure, she hadn’t gotten around to asking him to help her with the fake marriage certificate, but as sure as his name was Thomas Jefferson Kirkpatrick, that had been in the works.
So why did he feel as if he’d betrayed the trust Emily had placed in him?
And why did Emily’s air of desperation and the glint of tears in her captivating eyes continue to haunt him?
The pile of used bricks in front of him began to shimmer in front of his eyes. To add to his misery, the blazing sun beating down on his back was making him his head swim in spite of the hard hat he wore. And if that wasn’t enough to try a man’s soul, his stomach was at odds with his breakfast. He didn’t know why. He ate four slices of bacon, two eggs and toast every morning with no side effects. Today, as the morning wore on, he was feeling worse than ever.
He reached for the bottle of water and took a long swallow to clear his head. When his vision began to blur, he poured water into his hand and drew it across his forehead. His head still pounded. To add to his problems, he had an uneasy feeling he had left something important undone.
“Emily,” he muttered to himself. Whatever was wrong with him, it had to have something to do with Emily. Through a growing haze, the sound of her name was enough to almost make him smile. It wasn’t only their kiss he remembered, although he was honest enough to admit it was a big part of her attraction.
The devious way her mind worked fascinated him. The way her eyes gave away her inner thoughts just before she popped another peppermint into her mouth was another. To add to her attraction, there had been the satisfying moments when he’d held her in his arms.
He muttered his frustration and laid another brick. He might be fresh out of common sense, but there was no way around the problem. Pure and simple and straight to the point, he missed Emily.
In saner moments he would have known better.
Duke strolled up. “So, how did the date with the babe, er, the lady, go last night, boss?”
“It wasn’t a date.” T.J. wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead and headed for the shade of the oak tree while he was still able to navigate.
Bad choice.
The tree only served to remind him of the bargain he’d made with Emily: he would pose as Tim long enough for her to get her inheritance. Hooked by the grateful look in Emily’s expressive hazel eyes, the mission had seemed so simple—a visit to her lawyer and then a goodbye.
The problem was that he hadn’t reckoned on Emily’s magnetic attraction. Or her lingering minty scent and the memory of their spontaneous embrace.
Somewhere along the way he must have lost his mind.
Duke tagged along after him. “Not a date? Hey man, that’s not the way it looked. You couldn’t take your eyes off the lady. Can’t say I blame you. I wouldn’t mind dating her myself. Is she available?”
T.J. swung around, the drum in his head beating louder than ever, his stomach about to rebel. “If that’s all you have on your mind, get lost!”
“Hold your fire,” Duke protested. “I came to tell you your dad called while you were off yesterday afternoon doing whatever it was you say you weren’t doing.”
T.J. scowled. In his present weakened condition, the last thing he needed was sexual innuendo. “Any message?”
“Nope,” Duke answered cheerfully. “The boss said he’d see you today.”
T.J. eyed his foreman. He wore a wide grin and looked too pleased with himself to be innocent. “What else did you tell him?”
Duke shrugged. “I could have mentioned the ba—the lady and the sexy outfit she was wearing.”
“Jeez!” T.J. cussed under his breath. “That’s all I need the way I feel. Testosterone talk. Go back to work.”
When Duke left whistling cheerfully, T.J. dropped down on the wooden crate and took a deep breath. It hadn’t taken Duke’s remarks to make him realize that what was bothering him wasn’t so much the heat as some unfinished business. He’d been taught from day one never to leave for tomorrow what he should do today. No wonder he felt uneasy.
His mind’s eye flashed back to Emily. How she’d gazed at him as if he, and only he, could be her knight in shining armor. Instead of saving her, he’d chickened out at the earliest opportunity. What kind of a hero did that make him?
Maybe that was why he felt so lousy.
Duke was right. In her slip of a sundress, Emily had been a bundle of femininity fetching enough to draw the attention of every man within eyesight.
She’d certainly been all woman. To his chagrin, his instinctive response to her had been all male. Her sensuality and his reaction must have come through loud and clear or Duke wouldn’t have commented on it. At his age, he should have known better than to let sex appeal get to him.
How Emily felt about him was another story, he mused unhappily, but a promise made was no promise kept when there was unfinished business to take care of.
All the more reason for him to go back to the hotel, stop Emily from coming up with a fake marriage certificate and think of another idea. If she wound up in trouble, he’d never be able to live with himself.
The point was, he chided himself, he knew enough about the transfer of real estate holdings to be aware that printing up a fake marriage certificate had to be illegal. Emily might be willing to take a chance, but not him. He had his conscience, the family business and the Kirkpatrick name to consider. The last thing he wanted to do was get into trouble with the law.
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?”

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