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