Bachelor-Auction Bridegroom

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.