Читать книгу Bachelor-Auction Bridegroom - Mollie Molay - Страница 14

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?”