fallen out of love, and when. Wondering what was wrong with him that she didn’t want him. Going over every second of their two years together that he could remember and coming up empty. Feeling he hadn’t done anything wrong and wishing, almost begging God to let him have done something—even something small—so he would know not to do it again. So he’d have some hope for the future.
But that mythical “thing” he might have done never materialized. He was the victim, the guy who had been wronged, yet he was still the one who had lost everything. And maybe that was the reason the whole deal never really settled itself for him. There was no lesson to be learned except that he wouldn’t ever trust anybody with so much of his life again.
And Isabella—Tia—had already tricked him.
Not intentionally, Drew reminded himself. As she’d told him after they had made love, she’d lost weight and cut her long brown hair immediately after she had graduated from college. It was her first step in trying to get people to see her as more mature, but Drew didn’t know that. Because she didn’t look like the Isabella who had gone off to college, and because she had been introduced as Tia, and because they were so far away from home that he wasn’t thinking about anybody from Calhoun Corners, let alone somebody he hadn’t seen in six years, he had never suspected she was his former neighbor.
The whole situation was a jumble of confusion, but it was a manageable jumble. What wasn’t manageable—or predictable or even something he wanted—was a long-term involvement with a woman. But just because he and Tia were parents, that didn’t necessarily mean they had to be “involved.” If he could endure being married for eight short months, all he had to worry about were the times he dropped off or picked up their child. And as he’d already pointed out to Tia, she lived in Pittsburgh. At best, throughout this marriage they’d see each other on weekends.
Everything would be fine.
He drove down her parents’ tree-lined lane, very much like his own, to the Capriotti horse farm. His house was a white French Colonial, built as a gift to himself for finally succeeding financially the way he had always known he could, but Tia’s parents lived in a redbrick farmhouse that had been updated and renovated several times. Long and regal, it somehow managed to look more like a home than any house Drew had ever seen.
But even as the site comforted him, Drew’s stomach knotted. Ben Capriotti had saved his sanity. After losing his half of the architectural firm to his wife, Drew wasn’t going into architecture again because he was sure that profession was bad luck for him. When he had explained that to Ben, Ben had laughed and agreed to teach Drew everything he needed to know about breeding horses, and getting involved in something so complex hadn’t left Drew time to think about his ex-wife or his ex-partner. Ben had kept his promise and helped Drew every step along the way, and Drew had repaid him by getting his only daughter pregnant.
If he could take one thing back in his life, it would be making love to Tia that night in May. But since he couldn’t, he would at least do the right thing.
He shoved open his truck door and joined Tia on the front porch. Apparently over her anger with him, or maybe because she knew they needed to present a unified front to her parents, she quietly said, “Ready?”
Without hesitation or thought, he took her hand and caught her gaze. Bad move. The combination of those pretty blue eyes and the smoothness of her skin shot arousal through him. But Tia didn’t seem to have the same problem. She didn’t gasp or shiver. Her eyes didn’t darken with desire or even simple awareness. Instead, her expression grew puzzled.
Thanks. That was great for the ego.
He sighed and raised their joined hands. “If we’re going to get away with this lie, there are a couple of things we’ll have to do.”
He tried to ignore the electricity sizzling between their clasped hands, but he couldn’t. Though it had been more than a month since they’d been together, the heat they had generated that night was alive and well and giving him the kinds of thoughts that could get a man arrested in some states, reminding him of something he’d forgotten to even consider. How the hell did he expect to be married to this woman without sleeping with her?
Through sheer force of will. Tia was the only daughter of his mentor, which meant Drew had only one real concern. Making sure he didn’t push Ben Capriotti over the edge of his stress limit. To do that Drew only had to pretend to like Tia. He did not actually have to like her. When it came to common sense and sheer force of will, Drew knew he was the best. There would be no problem with his self-control.
“Holding hands is the easiest way to immediately clue them in that we’re more than friends.”
When Tia’s tongue came out to moisten her lips and she gazed into his eyes for a few seconds too long, Drew almost groaned. Not because the sexy gesture reminded him of just how difficult ignoring her was going to be, but because the lip-moistening demonstrated that she wasn’t nearly as unaffected as he had thought.
Well, whatever. He hadn’t met a woman he couldn’t cause to dislike him. Even Tia had kicked him out of her house the night they’d made love. In a few weeks he could have her absolutely hating him. And he would. Right after they convinced her parents they were crazy in love and getting married.
“Don’t take anything I say in here personally,” he said, then turned and opened the front door, leading her into her parents’ house.
When they entered the foyer, Tia called, “Mom? Dad?”
“In the den, honey,” her mother answered. “Come on back.”
“Okay,” Tia said casually, but Drew’s stomach plummeted. He considered giving himself a minute to calm down, but knew things weren’t going to get any better with the passage of time, so they might as well get this over with.
“Let’s go.”
With a slight tug on Tia’s hand, he led her into her father’s den. Her parents were seated together on the old tan leather sofa, reviewing the records for the farm.
As they entered the den, her mother glanced up. Drew knew Tia had gotten her size and shape from her mother, an average-height brunette with pretty green eyes. But her dark brown hair and blue eyes came from her dad.
“Drew?” Elizabeth Capriotti’s gaze skittered over to Tia, then unerringly honed in on their joined hands. “Tia?”
“Hi, Mom,” Tia said, then—probably because she was as nervous as he was—she unexpectedly blurted, “Drew and I are getting married.”
Her dad put down the computer printout he was holding. Looking totally baffled, he rose. “What did you say?”
“We’re getting married,” Drew said, squeezing Tia’s hand and hoping she got the message to let him handle this. “Tia wasn’t supposed to just drop that bomb on you like that.”
Her dad took two steps toward them. “How exactly would you suggest my daughter…my only daughter…my baby daughter…tell me that she’s about to marry a man who is ten…no, twelve…years older than she is?”
“I know this looks bad,” Tia began, but Drew lightly squeezed her hand again, reminding her to let him be the one to speak. Their whole purpose in getting married was to downplay the problem, and Drew was an expert at that.
“Ben, the news Tia and I have gets worse before it gets better. Since she started the ball rolling by blurting out that
