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.