Temporary Husband

by Day Leclaire

  “Made it,” Wynne said with undisguised relief. “But there’s one small problem.”

  “What’s that?” Buster demanded.

  “I don’t know how to do reverse. We may be stuck here a while.” She brightened. “In the meantime, let’s find that general store. We have shopping to take care of.”

  Jake turned his back on the window overlooking the colorful booths of the outdoor market and thrust his hands into his pockets. “It isn’t going to work, Peter. This marriage is a total disaster.”

  Alarm appeared on the lawyer’s face. “What happened? Wouldn’t she sign the prenuptial agreement?”

  “She signed it.”

  “She knows the marriage is temporary? Is she going to create a scene when it’s time for a divorce?”

  “She’s agreed to the divorce, and she won’t kick up a fuss.”

  “What about fulfilling the conditions of the will? You two are…ah…wedded and bedded, right?”

  Jake gritted his teeth, pushing the words out with an effort. “It’s been taken care of.”

  “And she’ll admit as much? In open court?”

  Jake’s mouth tightened. “We haven’t discussed it, yet. But knowing Wynne, she’ll do anything I ask.”

  Peter stared, nonplussed. “Even a real wife wouldn’t do that. Where’s the problem? Your bride sounds damn near perfect to me.”

  “She’s…Nice.”

  “Hell. That is a problem.”

  “I don’t need your sarcasm, Bryant,” Jake growled. “I’m serious. I’m in a real fix here.”

  “How? You wanted a plain, practical and levelheaded woman who’d agree to a temporary arrangement. Isn’t that what you got?”

  Jake frowned. “She isn’t exactly plain,” he admitted.

  “No? You roped a pretty one, huh? What did you say her name was? Wynne?”

  “Wynne Sommers. And she’s…” Beautiful. Gorgeous. Sweet. Innocent.

  “Practical?”

  Jake couldn’t help smiling. “Not that I’ve noticed.” Determined. Whimsical. Adorable. A starry-eyed dreamer.

  “But at least she’s levelheaded.”

  When her head wasn’t in the clouds—a rare occurrence he suspected. “She’s hard to describe.”

  Peter didn’t bother to hide his confusion. “Uh-huh. Give it a shot, anyway.”

  “She’s…”

  * * *

  “Nuts. Wait a minute, boys. We have another problem.” Wynne opened her purse and thumbed through her wallet, counting the last few dollars she had to her name. “Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen. Fifteen dollars and sixty-seven cents. That’s not going to go very far.”

  “Can you write a check?” Buster asked, ever practical.

  “I closed my Maryland bank account. But maybe…” She grasped the boys by the hand and marched toward the front of the store. “Excuse me,” she said to the woman behind the cash register. “Is the owner here?”

  “You’re speakin’ to her, honey. Belle Blue’s the name. What can I do you for?”

  “I’m Wynne Hondo. And these are my nephews, Buster and Chick. We just moved to Chesterfield and I came shopping while my husband ran errands and—”

  “Did you say Hondo?” Belle repeated sharply.

  “That’s right.” Wynne smiled in delight. “Do you know Jake?”

  “Black hair, a heart of stone and the devil’s own eyes? Sure, I know him.”

  Wynne frowned. “I think you must have him confused with someone else. Jake does have dark hair, but he’s the kindest man in the world. And his eyes are the most beautiful shade of gold I’ve ever seen.”

  Belle stared in disbelief. “Somebody’s confused, that’s for darned sure. Who did you say you were?”

  “Wynne Hondo.”

  “And you’re Jake’s…” She seemed to have trouble getting the appropriate word out.

  “Wife. Yes. We just got married.”

  The woman eyed her suspiciously. “You have proof of that?”

  “I think so.” Wynne dug in her purse, searching for the envelope she’d been given by the county clerk.

  “Asa, come over here and listen to this,” the woman called out. “Jake’s gone and got himself a wife.” She shook her head in wonder as a tall, gray-haired man joined them. “And Randolph claimed there wouldn’t be time enough. He is gonna be fit to be tied.”

  Locating the gold-leafed certificate, Wynne offered it to Belle, aware that a small, curious crowd had started to collect around the register. “This is just for decoration, you understand. It’s not a legal document and I’m not supposed to pass it off as one, but—”

  “Honey, any woman brave enough to throw a lasso around a man like Jake Hondo deserves a frame for that piece of paper—legal or otherwise. Consider it a wedding present from me and Asa.”

  “Why, thank you. That’s very kind of you.” Wynne’s smile wavered. “But I still have a small problem.”

  “How can I help?”

  “I only have fifteen dollars and sixty-seven cents on me and I wondered—”

  “We’ll put your purchases on Jake’s tab. No problem.” She winked. “It’s not like we won’t know where to find you when the bill comes due at the end of the month. That Chesterfield spread sure is a beauty, isn’t it?”

  Wynne stared at the woman in bewilderment. “Excuse me?”

  “The Chesterfield spread. The ranch house where you’re living.”

  “Oh, you must mean Lost Trail. The boys and I love it.”

  Belle gave her a strange look. “You’re stayin’ at Jake’s old place?”

  “Well, it does need a lick and a shine.” A small murmur ran through the crowd of shoppers. “But we’ll get it into shape in no time,” she hastened to reassure.

  “Oh, you will, will you?” Belle shook her head and muttered, “That Jake Hondo is some piece of work.”

  Wynne laughed. “He’s something else, isn’t he?”

  * * *

  “She’s…She’s something else,” Jake finally said.

  “And this—something else—is a problem,” Peter guessed, still struggling to uncover the source of Jake’s displeasure. “I don’t understand. Didn’t she like the Chesterfield spread?”

  “I don’t know. We’re living at my place.”

  Peter stared, openmouthed. “You…you took her to that dump? Have you lost your mind? No wonder she’s upset. Take her to Chesterfield Ranch. She’ll cheer right up.”

  If he took her to his grandfather’s house, she’d never leave—an untenable situation. Because one day soon the knight’s armor in which she’d sheathed him would begin to show its tarnish. And he couldn’t bear to live with her eventual disillusionment when she finally saw the man beneath the chain mail—the real man.

  “Wynne’s not upset,” he retorted. “In fact, she likes my place. She’s thrilled to be living in a house instead of an apartment. She’s even going to clean it for me.”

  “What!”

  “Not that I’d let her,” he added defensively. “Which reminds me. I need to hire somebody to knock the place into shape. Give me some recommendations, will you?”

  Peter wrinkled his brow in confusion. “Let me get this straight…You don’t like this woman, right?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “But you’re not in love with her.”

  Jake turned his back on Peter and poured himself a drink. It took a quick swig and several minutes of intense concentration to throw off a cool and adamant, “No.”

  “And she’s thrilled to be living in that pigsty you call a house? She’ll even clean it for you?”

  Jake shrugged. “I gather her previous accommodations weren’t as spacious.” He thought of her laborroughened hands. “Nor is she afraid of hard work.”

  “And she’s not bad looking?”

  Hair the color of moonlight, skin as pure and soft as virgin wool, eyes as serene as a forest glade. “She’s beautiful,” Jake admitted roughly.

  “I want her.
”

  “What!”

  “After your divorce, I want her. She sounds like a dream come true.”

  “Go to hell, Bryant,” Jake snapped, and turned to stare out the window.

  Wynne shook hands for the umpteenth time, introducing herself and the boys to yet another resident of Chesterfield. “This has to be the friendliest town in the whole world,” she marveled as she pushed her cart down the aisle.

  “Kinda crowded,” Buster observed, dodging another shopper.

  “I guess they didn’t feel like driving all the way into Two Forks any more than we did.”

  “How come everyone wants to shake hands with us? Nobody ever did that when we went shopping in Maryland.”

  “I guess that’s the way people do things in Texas.” She paused by the local bulletin board and studied the various announcements. “There’s a charity craft fair next weekend. I wonder if Jake’s donated anything. Maybe I can bake a cake if he hasn’t.”

  Chick tugged on her arm and Buster said, “Chick wants you to bake cookies instead of cake. That way we can help fix ‘em.”

  “Help eat them, you mean,” she said with a laugh. “Well, grab a couple bags of chocolate chips and walnuts. They’re on that bottom shelf over there. In fact, grab several. Thanksgiving is just around the corner and that means lots of baking. But cleaning the house comes first, okay? I promised Jake. Cookies are a solid second.”

  Jake tried to ignore the annoying buzz of Peter’s unending string of questions and stared moodily out the office window. Gradually he focused on the pickup parked across the street—a familiar-looking sleek, black, mud-spattered pickup. He frowned, suddenly realizing just why it looked so familiar. Dammit all! That sleek, black mud-splattered pickup was his.

  “Hell and damnation,” he swore. “She lied to me. That blasted woman promised she’d go to Two Forks and it was all a lie. I’m going to strangle her. I swear I will.”

  “What? What’s she done?” Peter demanded.

  “She’s here. In town.”

  “So?”

  “So, I told her to go to Two Forks, and she’s deliberately disobeyed me.”

  Peter grinned. “I can’t wait to meet this wife of yours. I’m really starting to like her.”

  “Go to hell, Bryant.” Jake slapped his Stetson on his head and strode toward the door. “I’ll finish with you later. Right now I’ve got to find my wife before she gets into trouble. Though knowing her, I’m way too late.”

  “Wait a minute. Jake! What about your grandfather’s will? We need to set a court date. Wynne needs to—”

  Jake stopped dead in his tracks and stomped back into the office. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m not having my wife stand up in open court and tell the whole of Chesterfield about our wedding night.” He refused to turn such a private, soul-altering moment into fodder for Chesterfield’s rumor mill. He couldn’t do that to Wynne…or to himself. “You get Judge Graydon and Randolph to agree to a more private get-together. A…a dinner party or something, where we can all discuss it casual-like.”

  “A dinner party,” the lawyer repeated in disbelief. “What’s the plan, have her serve up the main course and say, ‘Oh, by the way, Jake and I did it on our wedding night. Pass the salt and let’s eat.’? I can just see that.”

  Jake scowled. “I won’t allow Wynne to be embarrassed or humiliated in any way, shape or form. Understand? Can’t the judge just ask how our wedding night went? She can tell him it was great and that’ll be the end of it.”

  “And was it? Great, I mean?”

  Fury darkened Jake’s face. “If you weren’t my lawyer, I’d knock your teeth down your throat.”

  Peter grinned. “Good thing I’m your lawyer then, isn’t it? Wait a minute. One last question before you go.”

  “What?”

  “This is your temporary wife, right? The one who’s leaving you once the terms of the will are met? The one you’re not in love with?”

  Jake scowled, pulling the brim of his hat low over his brow. “That’s three questions, Bryant, and not one of them is any of your business. Just arrange for the dinner. Got it?”

  “Fine, but you’ll have to talk to Wynne, explain what’s expected of her.”

  “I’ll tell her.”

  Maybe.

  Or maybe he’d arrange for the judge to ask a few subtle questions over after-dinner coffee. He strode down the hall and out into the warm November sunlight, considering the matter. Wynne would never have to know the true purpose behind the get-together. He could keep it a secret. He’d just warn her that the judge was a nosy old man and she should humor him. It might work, if he planned carefully.

  He shook his head in disgust.

  Wynne’s idealism must be rubbing off. Why else would he be casting himself in the role of her personal protector? When would he learn? He was the villain of the piece, dammit all, not the hero.

  After signing the receipt for the groceries she’d purchased, Wynne offered Belle a cheerful farewell and pushed the loaded cart toward the exit. Before she’d reached it, a man planted himself square in front of her, blocking her path.

  “Rumor has it you’re married to Jake,” he said by way of greeting. “Is that true?”

  An unnatural silence descended on the crowded store and Wynne studied the man. Anger marred what might have been an attractive set of features and she wondered what she possibly could have done to antagonize him. “If you mean Jake Hondo, I’m his wife, yes,” she admitted and offered her hand. “My name’s Wynne.” He pointedly ignored her gesture, instead hooking his thumbs in his belt loops and rocking back on his heels. She slowly dropped her arm.

  “Jake only married you to get his hands on my inheritance,” he announced, eyeing her belligerently.

  She lifted her eyebrows in surprise. “Your inheritance?”

  “Randolph, please,” a sad-eyed woman behind him murmured, tugging on his arm. “Don’t cause a scene.”

  He shook her off. “I’m Randolph Chesterfield and that ranch land he’s after rightfully belongs to me.”

  “This land…it’s his inheritance?”

  “Only if he’s properly wedded and bedded.”

  Wynne laughed. “Then there’s no problem.”

  It was the wrong thing to say. Her comment only served to infuriate him. His hands closed into fists and he stepped closer, shoving her shopping cart to one side. “You can’t know the man very well, or you wouldn’t say that.”

  She lifted her chin, refusing to be intimidated. “I know Jake quite well and—”

  “Then you know about the conditions of his grandfather’s will.” He shot the comment like a bullet. “You know he only married you to get my land.”

  “His land,” she corrected with a sunny smile. “And of course I know why he married me. Not only is Jake an honest man, he’s also the sweetest, kindest, most generous husband a woman could want. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be able to keep my nephews.” She wrapped her arms around Buster’s and Chick’s shoulders. “Why, as far as I’m concerned, he’s an angel!”

  Randolph’s mouth opened and closed as he fought to digest her analysis of Jake’s character. “He sure has you buffaloed,” he said at last. “I don’t know whether to pity you or congratulate him. But I’ll give you fair warning. He doesn’t give a plugged nickel for either you or those kids. You’re nothing more to him than a means to an end. Once he gets what he’s after, you and those kids will be out on your collective backsides.”

  “Randolph, please,” the woman behind him said. “Let her be.”

  “Hush, Evie. I’m only speaking the truth. Someone ought to tell her about Jake—explain what a low-down, rotten snake he is before he hurts her or one of the kids.”

  “Uncle Jake’s not a snake. And he wouldn’t hurt us, neither. He loves us!” Buster shouted, his face turning red with indignation. “Don’t you say anything bad about him or I’ll kick you.”

  Wynne squeezed her nephew’s shoulder. “It’s all
right, sweetheart. Mr. Chesterfield doesn’t know Jake the way we do.” She glared at Randolph. “You’re wrong, mister. My husband is an honorable man, and one of these days he’ll prove it to you. In the meantime, don’t you say another nasty word about him to me or the children, or you’ll regret it. Now, stand aside. It’s time we left.” She grabbed the cart and shoved it in his direction, deciding that if he didn’t move out of the way, she’d run right over his toes.

  With an exaggerated sweep of his arm, Randolph stepped back. “Don’t let me keep you,” he said as she stalked past. “But just out of curiosity…How much is he paying you to crawl into bed with him? It must be a bloody fortune.”

  A collective gasp ran through the store and Wynne felt her own anger skyrocket. But it was nothing compared to the fury that exploded across the countenance of the man lounging quietly in the doorway.

  CHAPTER SIX

  JAKE STRAIGHTENED, his eyes burning brighter than the fiery pits of hell. “I see you’ve met my wife, Chesterfield,” he said, his voice all the more terrifying for its deadly control.

  Startled, Randolph whipped around and blanched. “Hondo! I—”

  Jake stepped closer, crowding the man against the wall. “You speak to her again without my permission and I’ll permanently rearrange those pretty-boy features of yours. You got that?”

  “Listen, Jake…I was just—”

  “I didn’t catch your answer.” He grabbed a fistful of Randolph’s shirt. “Are we communicatin’ cousin? You don’t speak to her. Hell, you don’t even look at her. Understand?”

  Sweat beaded Randolph’s brow as he gave a tight-lipped nod.

  Jake released his grip. “Smart answer. Because if you ever interfere in my business again, I’ll put paid to your future existence. You have my personal guarantee.” His attention switched to Wynne and he jerked his head toward the door. “Get goin’.”