by Mollie Molay
“There are libraries down here, too,” T.J. replied. “In fact, there’s a great one just around the corner from my apartment. I’m sure your mother can find something to do here, too.”
“It’s not that easy,” Emily said wistfully. “Besides, there’s my dream of seeing the real Venice. My mother understands the way I feel, and I’m sure Aunt Emily would have, too.”
“Venice, Italy, or Venice, California, what difference does it make?” T.J. rejoined as they walked along the canal. Knowing that it might be his last chance to persuade her to remain here long enough for him to sort out his obligations, his emotions, he put his heart and soul into his question. “I’ve often heard that home is where your heart is. Maybe this is the place where your dream can come true.”
Emily shook her head. “I’ve already asked for a leave of absence, and a substitute has been hired. I’ve come too far to turn back now.”
“Then sell the property to me,” T.J. urged. “I’ll restore it to its original state and take care of it just the way your aunt would have done. I’ll even give you visiting privileges.”
“Thank you,” Emily replied. Impulsively she reached to brush his cheek with gentle fingers. “You have no idea how good it makes me feel to know someone would care for the cottage as much as I do.”
T.J. wasn’t too sure about how he made Emily feel, but he had a good idea of how Emily was making him feel. His head might be advising caution, but his body demanded more than a touch on his cheek. He wanted Emily in his arms, to taste her lips, to make her his and to hear her tell him she cared for him and would never leave him.
He had to make up his mind about the direction his own life would take, and soon, before she got away from him. He had to reconcile the way he was beginning to feel about Emily with his responsibilities. He had to remember his vow to wait for the right woman. Yet, all of his senses told him the right woman could be standing beside him, her hair shining in the moonlight, stars in her eyes. He took a deep breath. Vows be damned. He wasn’t going to let another moment pass without telling her so.
“Em?” He stopped and waited until she looked up at him expectantly before he folded her in his arms, tasted her minty sent and caressed her neck, her shoulders. “Em,” he repeated as he kissed the side of her throat where a pulse was beating madly and moved on to the hollow between her breasts.
Fog and a cool salt wind rolled in off the ocean. Emily clung tightly to him as if she were cold. He rubbed her shoulders, opened his jacket and closed it around them. His body heat must have made a difference. She closed her eyes and leaned against his chest.
His thoughts turned to the way she’d looked lying in bed the other night, fast asleep. And how much he’d wanted to join her there. If tonight wound up the way he hoped it would, they would soon be lying skin to skin, lips to lips. Only this time, he’d make sure he was wide-awake to show her how much he’d begun to care for her.
He ran his hands through her silken hair and marveled at the desire that swelled within him. “I can’t seem to get enough of you, Em,” he murmured.
Emily couldn’t get enough of T.J., either. He’d started out as a stranger, but she didn’t think of him as a stranger any longer. Not after the heart-stopping kisses he gave her and the strength of the arms that held her. She buried her head under his chin and tried to lose herself in the beat of his heart.
It wasn’t like her to react this way to a man she scarcely knew and longed to know better. And certainly not after Sean’s betrayal. The magic between them was more real than she could explain, even to herself.
She was sure no other man but T.J. could have understood the strong bond that still existed between her and the cottage. Or could have connected to that bond himself.
Was it the cottage and the nostalgic memories it brought back that were making her want him with every beat of her heart?
A foghorn blew in the distance, a lonely sound that awakened her to the truth. Tonight might be only a temporary stop on the road to realizing a dream.
She shifted in T.J.’s arms. He hadn’t told her he loved her in so many words. She had to be practical and make a decision—her growing love for T.J., or the cottage and the real world waited for her.
T.J. reluctantly let her go. “Come on, Em, maybe we’d better check on the cottage before the night is over. I want to make sure it’s okay for you to stay here for a few days.”
In no hurry to awaken any more memories, Emily held back. “It’s awfully dark in there. Did you remember to bring a flashlight?”
“No, something better than that,” he assured her with his arm around her shoulder. “After I got the key from Daniels’s secretary, I had the utilities turned on.”
“You what?” Emily knew T.J. was a decision maker, but this time she was afraid he’d gone too far.
“I had the utilities turned on,” he repeated with the killer smile that almost made her weep. “And, furthermore, I used Daniels’s name.”
Horrified, Emily stared wide-eyed at T.J. “You didn’t!”
“I did,” he answered with a shrug. “After all, if he’s the executor of the estate, he should expect to have a few expenses.”
Emily threw in the towel. T.J. looked so pleased with himself she didn’t have the heart to remind him not to put himself in harm’s way for her sake.
He led the way to the porch, pulled aside honeysuckle vines that framed the door, and fit the key into the lock. After a gentle push, the door swung open, and she followed him into a small, silent living room. He flipped on the light switch to reveal furniture covered with dusty sheets,
A window seat covered with wine velvet cushions backed by a large picture window overlooked the canal and the ornate concrete bridge outside. Wine colored velvet drapes partially hid the seat. Family photographs still hung on the walls, their frames heavy with dust. An ancient Kimball piano took up one wall. A metronome sat on top as if waiting for someone to sit down and play.
He gestured to the window seat. “Looks like your favorite hideaway is still here, Em.”
Emily moved to his side to finger the velvet drapes. “I used to make this my own little world by spending hours in here reading behind the closed drapes. After I borrowed a library book on the real Venice, I was hooked. From then on, I dreamed of going to Italy and painting the buildings and the canals.”
She gestured to a charcoal drawing of an ornate concrete bridge crossing a canal. “I used to paint a great deal. I drew that picture when I was twelve by using the bridge outside as a model. You’ll probably laugh at me, but when I was little, I thought dragons and monsters lived on the other side of the bridge.”
“You did!”
“I’m afraid I did. In all the years I came here to visit, I never once crossed over that bridge. I was too afraid of what I’d find.”
“Never? Not even with your aunt?”
“Never,” she said with a smile. “I guess the older I get, the less I know just which of those many dreams of mine were real.”
T.J. had already begun to suspect Emily’s adult dreams had turned into looking for something besides going to Italy. He had his own dreams to reconcile with reality and hadn’t gotten there yet. But one thing for sure, the more Emily told him of her childhood, the more he fell in love with the child in her. And the lovely woman she’d become.
“Do you really think you can rediscover your childhood in Italy?” he asked softly, lightly brushing her cheek with his knuckles.
Emily shivered and turned her face into his hand. “It’s more than that. Just what, I’m not sure. But somehow I feel something or someone is waiting for me out there somewhere. I just have to go and find it. What I am sure of is that my aunt would understand if I choose to sell the cottage to look.”
“If you say so,” T.J. answered as he turned away and checked under the dust sheets. “By the way, didn’t your mother miss you when you were down here so much of the time?”
“I’m sure she must have, but my father was sick
most of the time. Mom used to say that my staying here with Aunt Emily was a blessing.”
“Then stay here, Em,” T.J. said again. “Stay here and maybe all your dreams, real or not, will come true.”
“You could be right, but what if they don’t?” Emily turned away from the window seat and ran a finger over a dusty picture frame.
She glanced around the room. “I wish I could feel better about leaving all of this behind or selling it.”
Emily sounded so wistful, T.J. was tempted to take her back in his arms and show her the present could be every bit as good as her memories of the past. It wouldn’t be fair. No way was he going to take advantage of the way the cottage and its memories had mellowed her.
“Come on,” he said, taking her hand back in his. “Let’s check out the rest of the house.”
Sliding doors opened to a dining room with pegged oak floors. A yellow oak pedestal table with four matching chairs filled the room. The glass door panes of the built-in wall cabinets were made of priceless cut crystal. A marble mantel framed a fireplace on one wall.
T.J. was enchanted. The cottage and everything in it apparently were of a long-ago period when craftsmanship mattered. The same craftsmanship he tried to use when he was restoring vintage buildings. He knew from experience that not only the furniture, but also the interior decoration of the cottage had to be worth a small fortune.
He gazed at a large colored photograph of a young girl and an older woman in vintage costumes hanging over the mantle. From the close resemblance, he recognized the woman had to be Emily’s aunt. An older version of Emily, her features were small and delicate. Her intelligent eyes seemed to speak to him, her pepper hair was gathered in a neat pouf at the top of her head. One hand rested on the lace collar that framed her slender neck, the other rested on a little girl’s shoulder. On closer inspection, he made out tiny Cécile Brunner roses pinned to the lace collar.
“You and your Aunt Emily?”
“Yes,” she answered as she joined him. “I remember it was taken for my ninth birthday. My aunt made the dress of navy-blue taffeta. I thought it was the nicest present anyone had ever given me. The photographer was so pleased, he displayed a copy in his studio window. He called it ‘The Two Emilys.’”
Her answer earned her another hug from T.J. “There’s a kitchen, too. Right? I can’t leave you here with a clear conscience unless I know you’re eating properly. I worry about you, you know.”
Emily was touched at his confession. “The cottage may be seventy years old, but my aunt prided herself on having a modern kitchen. I’m sure I can whip up a meal or two while I’m here.”
“Good,” he answered. “Now, to the bedrooms.”
Emily led him down a short hall and paused in front of a closed door. “This is my aunt’s room.” After a pause she started to move on.
“Aren’t you going to look inside?” T.J. lingered at the door and looked surprised when she shook her head.
“I can’t, I just can’t. At least, not right now. I miss my aunt so much.” She put her arms around herself and shivered. “I’m afraid that if I go in there my heart will surely break.”
“Then don’t go in.” T.J. put an arm around her shoulders to reassure her. “I’ll check the room out later.”
Grateful, Emily smiled up at him. “I didn’t mean to be so sentimental.”
“That’s okay,” T.J. assured her. “You may not believe it, but I’ve been known to get sentimental a time or two myself.”
She glanced at up T.J.’s clear blue eyes, which shone with compassion. “Surely not,” she teased. “Not a strong man like you?”
“Strong in the eye of a generous beholder,” T.J. replied with a wry shrug. “But even a rock can break.”
“Oh no, not you.” Emily pointed to the door across the hall. “That’s the only other bedroom. It was mine.”
“Are you game to open the door, or do you want to consider bunking on the living room couch?”
Emily shuddered. “No way! I used to think the couch was made of horsehair, or something worse and made to last forever. I remember Aunt Emily used to have to cover it with a soft cotton throw before anyone could sit on it.”
After she opened the door to her bedroom, T.J. wandered around the room, lifting dusty white sheets to check what was underneath. There was a single bed, covered with a handmade patchwork quilt. A doll nestled against a pillow. A young child’s maple desk, a matching chair and a bookcase that still contained some of Emily’s books were up against the double windows. As if waiting for the room’s occupant to return, an unfinished jigsaw puzzle was on the desk.
“Yours?” T.J. leaned over the desk and tried to fit a small section into the puzzle. “Looks as if it’s almost complete. Maybe we can finish it tonight.”
Emily’s hand covered his. “No, please.”
“Why not?”
“If we finish the puzzle, everything is over.”
T.J. studied the puzzle. It was a picture of the Grand Canal in Venice. “Maybe it’s the idea of closing the door on the past that bothers you.”
Emily looked over his shoulder. “My aunt gave it to me after I told her how much I wanted to go there. I just feel I have to leave it there. As long as Aunt Emily left it unfinished, I feel as if I can come home again if I want to.”
“She probably kept it there to remind her of you.” T.J. remarked thoughtfully. “Looks as if she expected you to come back someday.”
“Maybe,” Emily agreed. Maybe T.J. was right. Maybe she did belong here. She’d already given up her dream of marrying and having a family. But not before she tried to make at least one of her dreams come true.
T.J. took her in his arms. “Em,” he murmured, and pushed her hair away from her eyes, “I’m sure everything will come together for you in the end. Sell the cottage to me. That way no stranger will take over. I’ve told you, you can come back for a visit anytime you want to.”
He put a finger under her chin, raised her face to his and kissed.
As she drank in his kiss, Emily sensed it was somehow different from the other brief embraces they’d shared and that this time, his heart and soul were in the kiss.
Was the kiss just an attempt to help ease her heartache? If so, it awakened all her senses and sent them soaring. The scent of his shaving lotion, the taste of him, the sound of his low, sensuous voice murmuring words of reassurance turned all the nerve endings in her body on fire. Wanting more of him, she burrowed deeper into the strong arms that held her.
“Em?” he murmured against her lips. There was a question in his voice, a yearning that mirrored her own.
She was sensible enough to realize love might not have anything to do with the heart-stopping moment. Still, the strength in the arms that held her and the tenderness in the eyes that gazed at her soothed her very soul.
He’d told her to let him know if she ever wanted or needed him. She not only needed him, she wanted him. And she wanted him now. It was time to forget the past. To stop worrying about what the future might bring. It was time to cherish the present. She smiled up at him.
“You’re sure?” he asked, as if he sensed her thoughts.
Emily nodded wordlessly. When he still hesitated, she gave him the answer he was waiting for. “Yes.”
Chapter Nine
T.J. gazed down on her with a yearning expression that she sensed matched her own. “You’ll never be sorry for trusting me, Em. I promise.”
“I know.” She leaned away, just far enough to release the top button on his shirt. “I have to confess,” she said with a saucy smile as she went back to work and undid the next button, “I seem to have a preoccupation with your chest.”
“How about the rest of me?” He asked, his gaze sent heat rushing through her.
“That too, at least the parts of you I can see,” she said with a shaky laugh. “I’m afraid it started at the construction site when I saw the sun shining on your bare skin. And kept right when I was bathing you to bring
down your fever.” Her hands roamed over his chest as she met his eyes.
He captured her hands in both of his and kissed each knuckle, one by one. “You mean you wanted to take advantage of my weakened condition?” He laughed when she blushed. “Too bad I wasn’t in any shape to reciprocate, sweetheart, because I had designs on you, too. He pulled back, and, to Emily’s surprise, his expression grew serious and more than a little surprised. “Who knows this might actually turn out to be true love.”
Emily lowered her head to hide her reaction and moved to the next button. This was the first time the word “love” had been mentioned between them. An impossible dream considering they’d only recently met, and yet…
“My turn,” T.J. went on softly. He held her away while he unbuttoned her blouse, drew it over her shoulders and down to her waist. “You aren’t the only one with a fantasy, sweetheart. I’ve wanted to do this for a long time, too.”
“It’s a good thing this time we’re both conscious and wide-awake, isn’t it?” she whispered.
“Wide awake and eager,” he agreed before he turned her around and kissed the dimples on the back of her shoulders, the sensitive spot on the nape of her neck. His heated fingers burned her skin as he unbuttoned her lacy bra. He hooked his fingers under the slender straps, and they fell off her shoulders. She shivered.
“Cold?” She wrapped her arms around her middle, shook her head and turned into his arms.
“No, just eager.”
T.J. ran his hands over her slender torso and glanced over at the bed. “I have a remedy, but first…”
His voice trailed off as he removed the rest of her clothing. He ran his hands over her sensitive skin. “Em,” he murmured softly, “you’re every bit as beautiful as I thought you would be.”
Afraid to lose the erotic moment, Emily rained kisses on his bare chest. This time it was his turn to shiver.
