Bachelor-Auction Bridegroom. Mollie Molay

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