Free Her Fill-In Fiancé by Stacy Connelly Page A

up to manager. He worked for the Learys for more than forty years.”
    Pride or maybe amazement should have filled her voice, but instead, bitterness like black, day-old coffee dripped from her words.
    As a PI, Jake hated stepping into a situation without knowing all the factors; surveillance had always been his strong suit. He could study a subject for weeks if needed, anything to find out all he could. But for all the time he’d spent observing Sophia, for all the time he’d spent with her, he was stumbling around in the dark.
    â€œSophia…”
    â€œYou said you wanted the tour, so you better keep up,” she tossed over her shoulder as she turned a corner at the end of the block.
    But that was part of the problem, Jake thought. He was already two steps behind.
    He lengthened his pace, trying to catch up at least physically, and nearly crashed into Sophia’s back as she came to an abrupt halt. His hands instantly rose to cup her shoulders, and for a brief moment, he felt her relax into his touch. It would be so easy to pull her back against his chest, to feel the warm curve of her body against his own…
    Instead, Jake let go and turned his attention to the Victorian building in front of them. Canopied by a gingerbread-trimmed front porch, the storefront window was embossed with the words “The Hope Chest” in fancy script, and from what Jake could see, the shop sold a bit of everything.
    A tangle of bracelets and necklaces spilled from a jewelry box sitting on an antique mirrored vanity. A white wrought-iron bench displayed a collection of floral pillows and patchwork quilts. Angel statues in various poses modeled a collection of hats and even a sparkling tiara or two. A partially open armoire hinted at a row of demure nightgowns and robes, and yet slipped between the off-white and pale-pink silks was a flaming-red satin number.
    Jake had to smile at the sexy mixed in with all the sweet, a combination that reminded him of the woman at his side.
    â€œThis shop was one of my favorite places to come when I was a kid. Hope was always finding and bringing new things into the store—sometimes priceless antiques, sometimes a box of junk she’d bought for fifty cents at a rummage sale. Walking through the aisles was like exploring a treasure trove.” She held up her hand, showing off the silver filigree band on her middle finger. “I bought this with the first paycheck I earned working here…”
    Her voice trailed off, and Jake had a pretty good idea what caused the now familiar shadows creeping in. Quickly changing the topic, he said, “You know, it’s funny.”
    â€œWhat is?”
    He angled his head toward the window display. “I don’t see any cartoon frogs.”
    Awareness colored Sophia’s cheeks even as she protested, “Hope isn’t the flannel and frog type.”
    â€œToo bad,” Jake mused. After that morning, he’d certainly decided he was.
    It was easier after that, strolling along Main Street and more of its Victorian houses and quaint shops. A bed and breakfast, a beauty parlor, a curio shop with its share of souvenirs….
    A bell above the wooden door chimed as Sophia pushed it open and the hardwood floors creaked beneath their feet, telling stories of time gone by. Old-fashioned candy jars lined the checkout counter. Even from a few feet away, Jake thought he could pick up a hint of peppermint and cinnamon coming from the brightly colored canes.
    A postcard display caught his eye, and Jake reached for a black-and-white photo of the town taken when horse-drawn carriages still tooled down Main Street. “This is amazing. This picture was taken over a hundred years ago, but if you step outside, you can still see these buildings today.”
    â€œCan I help you, sir?” A white-haired man in his sixties leaned over the counter toward Jake, a hint of a frown pulling at his bushy brows despite the polite