His Wife for a While

His Wife for a While

Donna Fasano

His Wife for a While

Copyright © Donna Fasano, 2011

Cover design by Rayna Januska

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, transmitted, or stored in database or retrieval system, using any means or method now known or hereafter devised, without the prior written permission of the copyright holder.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Other Books by Donna Fasano

The Merry-Go-Round

Mountain Laurel

Taking Love in Stride

Return of the Runaway Bride

An Accidental Family

Contact the author via her website: www.DonnaFasano.com

or visit her blog: www.DonnaFasano.blogspot.com

Acknowledgements

My thanks to Evan Milburn of Milburn's Orchard,
Elkton
,
Maryland
, who patiently answered a million and one questions. And my deepest appreciation to Janice Potts, Deputy Clerk of the Cecil County Court, Marriage Bureau, Elkton, Maryland, who hears "I do" every day. What a wonderful job she has!

I would also like to thank Lala, Al, Allie, Vickie, Win and Gayle. Thank you for helping to make this book all it could be. I am blessed to have you in my life.

Chapter One

Today's the day, Chelsea Carson thought, and although the rare smile that tilted her eyes widened a fraction, she couldn't deny the fierce anxiety that knotted in her stomach. Unwittingly, she pressed a quelling palm against her abdomen.

"I'm going to do this," she promised herself aloud. "What's the worst thing that could happen?"

But the determination in her voice was lost on the cool spring breeze that blew through the apple orchard. Sunlight caressed her, warmed the backs of her hands, her face, even the back of her neck, urging her to roll up her sleeves and expose more of her skin. The long, dark days of winter were over; however, the uplifting thought didn't occupy her mind nearly long enough.

For nearly two weeks she'd worried, working at gathering the inner strength, the sheer guts it would take to make the offer, an offer that wasn't
entirely
unselfish.
Chelsea
was certain she could do it. She had to. Because when she did, she'd finally have her heart's desire.

And once that dream became reality, she'd never feel lonely again.

Loneliness. Lately it had engulfed her, nearly smothered her in its yawning blackness. Oh, it wasn't as though she were some kind of isolated hermit. She came into contact with people every day here at Reed's Orchard. Her job title may have been Office Manager, but it wasn't like she holed up in her office; no, jack-of-all-trades would often be a better moniker seeing as how she helped out in every aspect of the business. And being a retail outlet, the orchard depended on customers. Lots of them.
Chelsea
could think of only a few times in her life when she hadn't been surrounded by people.

However, she'd learned a long time ago how dangerous it was to become too friendly with those who fluttered in and out of her life. And it had been those very lessons that had taught her the necessity of holding herself apart. The habit might have resulted in her being labeled as aloof, unapproachable, a loner, and she could live with that. Those character traits that some people might define as negative were the very ones essential for her survival, and
Chelsea
wore them like armor.

But if her plan was successful, the desolation that had plagued her for so long would be a thing of the past, a distant, unpleasant memory she could shove way up high on the shelf in the back of her mind with all the others.

In order for her plan to come to fruition, however, she knew she first had to force herself to be…

"Bold," she whispered. What
was
the worst that could happen?

He could say no.

And she'd be no worse off than she was right now.

"March right up to him and say it," she murmured, rounding the corner of the brick building that housed the orchard's offices and produce market. "Just blurt it out before…"

The thought died midstream at the sight of Ben Danvers' broad, muscular back several yards away. He stood at the edge of the small asphalt parking lot, his feet planted apart, arms crossed at his chest. He was obviously embroiled in a toe-to-toe confrontation with the potbellied, balding man who stood in front of him.

"Take it down."

Chelsea
overheard Ben's demand and recognized the danger lacing his calm tone.

"But the auction's next week," the man blustered. "That sign serves as advertisement. People will come in droves to buy up this land just as soon as they know it's available."

"It isn't available," Ben said.

The man tipped up his chin. "Yet."

"I said take it down."

When the man didn't react, Ben stepped over to the sign promoting the auctioning of Reed's Orchard. Placing his shoulder beneath the rectangle of plywood, Ben rocked the thick post several times.

"Wait!" the fat man shouted. "You can't do that."

Ben hauled the whole works from the ground, and threw the sign at the man's feet.

"This land still belongs to me."

The guy's face went ruddy. "Only until next week."

Ben's voice remained deadly calm as he stated, "You will not put that sign on my property."

The silent answer was filled with jaw clenching and a tense, narrow-eyed glare, and
Chelsea
wondered if the man was stupid enough to take the first swing. She let out a relieved breath when he backed down, stepping away and then struggling to drag the sign to the back of his truck. He hefted the post and sign into the bed of his pickup, wasting perfectly good energy on the obscenities he grumbled under his breath. He yanked open the door and climbed behind the steering wheel. "I'll be back. Don't you worry."

His squeal of tires threw gravel and a billow of dust. Then
Chelsea
's gaze riveted to the stiff posture of Ben's back. He was in deep trouble, she knew. His time was running out.

I can help him.
The thought made nerves dance in her stomach like the flapping of a thousand winged insects.

He can help me.
The selfish words came unbidden to her mind and brought with it a pang of guilt that sliced through her heart and forced her gaze to slide to the ground.

With great effort,
Chelsea
straightened her shoulders and her spine. "I will do this." However, the determined murmur was immediately followed by a plea. "For once in your miserable life,
Chelsea
, be bold."

Pushing open the door, she disappeared into the brick building.

~  ~  ~

Ben raked his fingers through his already disheveled hair, heaving a tremendous sigh. He turned and stomped across the parking lot. He had to do something to save his orchard, and he had to do it quickly. But what was he supposed to do? Pluck a woman out of midair? Grab some unknown female off the street and haul her to the altar?

The bells tied to the door jangled as he entered the country store. His Aunt May sat behind the counter reading one of her coveted tabloid newspapers.

She glanced up, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "There's this little waitress in
Mississippi
who says she's been abducted by aliens
forty-two times
over the past eighteen months."

Usually, May's outlandish stories would give Ben a good chuckle, but today he didn't even smile. Evidently, she saw his distress because she folded the paper and tucked it underneath the counter.

The neat and tidy shelves were filled with merchandise. Ben could remember a time when the only products available for purchase were whatever seasonal fruits had been harvested. This room had been more of a store room than a place of business, and it had been his playground when he'd been a kid. He'd enjoyed games of hide and seek with his friends here, or the building would become an imaginary bank they'd use for an afternoon spent playing cops and robbers, or it would become a dangerous war zone adventure for his army platoon of four foot soldiers with pretend guns. They'd play with sweaty abandon until some adult would tire of the yelling and hooting and shoo the lot of them outdoors where they'd race through the orchard or trek to the pond to practice skipping stones. This place had been his haven, and now some developer with deep pockets was bound to win this land and turn it into a neighborhood with streets named
Peach Tree Lane
and
Apple Blossom Circle
.