His Temporary Wife

by Leslie P. García

  “Which is why …”

  “I decided I need to hire a wife. Temporarily.” He said it quickly, almost as if that would make it more acceptable. “My parents would be reassured that I’m ready to settle down and not go running all over the world with Marc.”

  “Marc?”

  “My best friend. He works for my dad, too. It’s mostly for them, Esmeralda, but not only. Now that Cody’s will has been probated and news leaked out that Justin inherited everything, we’re afraid that fathers will suddenly come out of every swamp or hole to be found.”

  “Fathers?” Esme asked in disbelief. She’d dealt with cases at school of mothers whose children all had different fathers. She’d even counseled two students who were half-brothers but didn’t know it. Difficult situations. But if Cody Benton was the daughter of such wonderful parents, and such a big star to boot … no. She wouldn’t judge Cody Benton. Lord knew her parents and high school friends had assumed the worst of her.

  “She didn’t know. There were men in her life who were … in and out.” He shrugged and looked away again. “It’s hard to admit that we don’t know who Justin’s dad is,” he said eventually. “And that of the men who might be the father, not one of them’s worth squat.”

  “You love Justin,” she noted quietly.

  “I do. I adore him. He’s so little, and happy—he looks so much like Cody. But he’s lost his mother, and we—my parents and I—can’t lose him. We just can’t.”

  “How would marriage have anything to do with that, though?” She stood up to stretch, fingering the necklace thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t think anyone would even consider marital status anymore. I mean, think of all the living arrangements, and break-ups, and blends and … why?”

  “Courts still have to act in the best interest of the child, and there are still some very conservative courts. My parents are in good health, but they’re not young. My job involved a lot of traveling, until Cody broke into music. Even then, but it was different; I was with her. We usually were on buses and in the States. Slightly more kid-friendly than my previous life, when Marc and I would go flying off at a moment’s notice. We’d be in the Middle East one day and South America the next.” He smiled, remembering. “We had fun, even if there were a few scrapes along the way. Right before Cody got serious about music, Marc and I noticed Dad was sending us to much safer places on sort of made-up work. Like studying the fracking process in North Dakota, when we both knew he’d already committed to an operation in Texas.” The smile faded. “When Cody started calling Truth home, Mom and Dad asked me to stay. Now that she’s gone, family—a wife—would give me more reason to settle down.”

  “So you’d lie to a court?”

  “No. Not really. In the first place, I’m talking about a legal marriage. And I won’t be leaving after the divorce. I’ll be here in Truth with Justin when and if my Mom and Dad decide to give up custody. He was born here.” He stood again, too, eyes intense as he continued. “I didn’t have a home for the first ten years of my life. Justin will never go through what I did. He’ll always know where he was born, where home is, and who his family is.”

  She didn’t have an answer for that; she couldn’t blame someone who’d apparently had a tough childhood for wanting to protect his nephew. But marriage for parents and a child that really wasn’t yours? Not to mention the other obvious problem with this crazy plan of his. Not that she was considering it. But still …

  “You seem to be overlooking one major problem. It would be a problem for me, anyway, and I’m sure many others.”

  “Problem?”

  “Call it what you want, temporary wife, a job … but how is money for sex not asking a woman to be a whore?” She chose the vulgarity deliberately, wanting to make him see the insult his misguided offer could inflict.

  He looked a little taken aback at her question, but only briefly, then shrugged it off.

  “Esmeralda Salinas, get your mind out of the gutter. I have no intention of having sex with you or anyone else while I’m married.”

  Chapter Seven

  Esmeralda’s mouth fell open. He’d heard the expression “jaw dropping,” but he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen such surprise on such a lovely face. Or any face.

  When he realized how his answer sounded, he sort of understood. He’d either implied she wouldn’t interest him sexually for possibly up to two months in an intimate environment, or that he personally could abstain from sex for some infinite period. Neither of those were what he meant. Looking at her close her mouth slowly and then moisten her lips with her tongue was torture, even standing several feet away from her. He didn’t want to think of the temptations they’d encounter sharing a room, even one as large as his upstairs suite.

  But he might only put his foot in his mouth again if he tried to correct any of her false assumptions, and clearly, she wasn’t going to accept the job anyway. In a way he regretted that. Besides being beautiful, she was a counselor and had nerve. Her training in helping young children would have let her interact safely with Justin—helping him without becoming too attached to him. Or letting him become too attached to her. And her nerve—he took a step away from her, turning, pretending to be engrossed in watching a deer who had wandered out of the trees encircling the house and started to munch on the flowers in one of the gardens.

  Luc appeared out of nowhere, walking over to the deer with a wagging tail. The two touched noses and then the doe went back to her food, and Luc sprawled where he was, watching her feed.

  Wasn’t there a song about everyone having someone? He just couldn’t remember with the multitude of country songs he’d been surrounded with for the past three years who sang it or the exact words. And here he was, seeking a temporary wife—a make-believe wife—when many men his age were settling down happily. Marc was right. He was being stupid.

  Behind him, he heard Esmeralda shuffle slightly, and reluctantly turned back.

  “Look, Rafael.” She seemed softer now, less condemning of him. “Some of what you say is sweet. I don’t think it makes sense, but you know the situation and I don’t.” She hesitated, then held out a hand. “Good luck.”

  He realized as he took her hand he didn’t want someone else as his wife—not even his temporary wife. “So you won’t consider letting me give you more details?”

  She shook her head. “Find someone else if you think you have to go through with this.”

  He released her hand. “Esmeralda, can I ask a favor? Would you mind keeping this quiet? I mean, your aunt knows, but only she, Lillie Mae, and one other person knows. It’s not the kind of thing I want everyone in Truth gossiping about, or I’d never be able to make it work. My parents should be here in about three weeks.”

  “I won’t say a word,” she promised, and he believed her. She took a step toward the door, then stopped and shot him a glance over her shoulder. “Too bad you’ll be a married man soon,” she said.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

  The smile she shot him sizzled through him with the sting of a bare electrical wire. “We could have had a good summer. But I don’t date married men.”

  He watched her go, the stain on her skirt less noticeable but still hypnotizing, and her words playing over in his head like the chorus of one of Cody’s songs.

  • • •

  By the time she pulled into her aunt’s drive fifteen minutes later, Esmeralda’s head was pounding and she wished she could just sit in a dark corner and forget everything for a few minutes. Just a few minutes. What kind of man was Rafael Benton? His idea was insane. Her attraction to him was insane. She needed to remember that she’d almost wrecked her own life pursuing men she couldn’t or shouldn’t want. Rafael fell in that category, without question. She could still see the passion in his eyes, the love, when he spoke of his parents and nephew.

  She hadn’t had much luck with family. Her parents had fed and clothed her, and hadn’t been abusive, really, not beyond letting Beto insult and harass her without
any consequences. They had been harsh and cold occasionally, but she knew others who had fared so much worse. If she hadn’t fallen in love with a high school boy—so madly in love that she willingly committed to him heart, soul, and body—her parents wouldn’t have been so disappointed in her.

  She tried to shrug the past off, knowing her head would only hurt worse and nothing would change. Toby would still be gone; he’d gone into the military right after graduation, to support her. To prove to her parents he wasn’t a no-good kid interested only in a girl who would defy anyone to have sex with him. Even when he went to Afghanistan—even when he died there—her parents never forgave her for having a sexual relationship outside marriage. They never understood she was just a kid in love—in love with only one man. The sex had been bright and new, but she had loved Toby. She didn’t plan on finding someone to replace him. Yet they started watching her day and night, taking her to and from school, making her life hell. Using the same words for her some of the high school crowd did. Until she had found the strength to leave home for Toby.

  No one was around, and she was glad. Angel must have gone in to work already. Not seeing Andy around was always a good thing; they didn’t like each other. She had no idea whether or not Tía was down the hall in her room, but didn’t want to make any noise just in case. She fished a bottle of diet tea out of the refrigerator and headed upstairs to shower and change. With the sun out so late, she might still have time to ride for a while, if she could just shake the headache.

  An hour and a hot shower later, she felt ready to face anything again. She put on her favorite riding jeans, boots, and the lightest long-sleeved blouse she could find. The heat was prohibitive, but if she ventured onto paths through cedar, she’d need to keep from being swatted and scratched by untrimmed boughs.

  She resisted the urge to hurry down on the stairs, afraid that if Tía hadn’t left for her club yet, noise would bother her. As she reached the next to last step, she suddenly heard her aunt’s voice off to her right, coming from behind the door.

  “You’ll regret that! Keep your stupid money and threats! No one needs you!”

  Silence followed, and she tried to be even quieter as she hit the floor and headed as quickly as she could do the door, afraid that her aunt would be more upset if she thought she’d been overheard.

  Her hand was on the doorknob when Tina’s voice behind her froze her in place. “Esmeralda! You’re leaving again? Come visit a minute.”

  I am never going to see Domatrix again. Let alone get to ride her.

  Esme pasted on a smile and turned around. “Tía!” She glanced at her watch. “You’re going in a little late.” Her aunt turned and walked to the kitchen and she followed, sitting down without comment in her usual place.

  Her aunt fished in the fridge and pulled out two wine coolers. Mild stuff, really, but Esme had already had one drink more than usual. “If you don’t mind, I’ll get myself a water.”

  “Don’t be a baby,” her aunt muttered, setting the bottle on the table with a thump and sitting down across from her. “And I’m not going in to the club, either. That’s why I pay people.”

  She’d seen little of her aunt since moving in, but she’d never seen her so angry and upset. She wished she knew more about Tina, more about how to calm her, to make her feel better.

  Since she didn’t, she tried for the neutral, non-judgmental face she used to approach troubled students with. “Anything I can help with? Are you feeling okay, or … ”

  Tina jerked her hands across her face and through her hair, then breathed deeply. With fingers that shook, she opened the bottle and downed half of the beverage in a gulp. Then she pushed it aside and blotted her mouth with the back of her hand. “I’m fine.”

  “Seriously, if I can help …”

  “Just the money problems I mentioned before. Things’ll turn around.” She smiled at Esme. “How did your job interview with the gorgeous Rafael Benton go?”

  “I spoke to him twice, and neither one went well.” Esme got up, carried the cooler back to the refrigerator, and sat down again. “Tía, why on earth would you think I’d be interested? How could you …”

  “You weren’t?” Tía’s eyebrows shot up. “A woman not interested in spending two months pretending to be Rafa’s wife?”

  “Rafa?”

  “Oh, come, niña. Aren’t all Rafaels ‘Rafa’ to their friends?” Her aunt smiled tightly. “If you were a little smarter, dear, you could be calling him Rafa yourself.” Esme bit back her protest over Tina’s dig. The fact that her aunt used the common nickname for Rafael made her wonder how well they knew each other. Rafael claimed not to like her, but her aunt seemed on good terms with him. She couldn’t really ask, though. Nothing her aunt said right now would be rational; clearly she was having some sort of meltdown.

  “Seriously, Tía, why did you even mention the job to me? Has my mom convinced you I’m so worthless, so … cheap that I’d marry a man for money?”

  “Quit with the drama and the outrage, dear. You said you wanted to be like me? That you thought I’d be a better mother to you than my sister is? Please!” Tina reached across the table and clasped Esme’s wrist. “I would marry Rafael Benton for eight weeks for much less than I expect he’s offering. And dear, just for the record—he told the three of us who know about his little proposition that he’s not paying for sex.” She released Esme and shrugged emphatically. “You’d be set for years, for a few weeks’ work pretending to be a devoted wife.”

  “Women aren’t property anymore, Tía! We don’t have to marry. No one marries for convenience anymore. No one!”

  “Bull.” Tía shoved her chair back and went over to the counter, rummaging around and finding a pre-measured container of coffee, which she poured into her single serving coffee maker with hands that were still unsteady. “You know better,” she continued, not even looking back. “Men, women—especially women—lots of marriages are all about the moolah, and you know it!” She turned and glared then. “Tell me that’s not true! Tell me you don’t know women—friends of yours—who stay in bad marriages for the money. Or tell me you haven’t heard of someone—or talked about someone—you knew didn’t really marry for love!”

  Esmeralda couldn’t deny any of that. Maybe she hadn’t had close friends, but she’d had acquaintances who clearly weren’t in relationships for love. She fidgeted with her water. Sex for pleasure’s sake, short-term relationships both parties agreed to, that was one thing. But marriage—she shook her head slowly.

  “Maybe it happens,” she admitted to her aunt, “but it’s not something I’d feel right about.”

  “You’d understand why he’s trying to do it if you knew his parents,” Tina told her, filling her mug with the freshly brewed coffee and coming back to stand by the table, blowing on the coffee. “Stubborn as mules and just as stupid.”

  “From what I hear, they’re very successful.”

  “And kind and loving,” Tina added, in a childishly sing-song voice that raised the hair on Esme’s arms. Did her aunt need mental help? Were her problems driving her to some invisible cliff? Again, she wished she’d known her better. She remembered her aunt as fun—a laughing free spirit who hadn’t come around often, but made her childhood sparkle with hope and possibility when she did. Not as the sometimes hard and bitter woman mocking the parents of a man she apparently knew fairly well. Rafael Benton had confided in her aunt, and that had to mean something.

  Didn’t it?

  “Well, if his parents are so traditional and difficult, all the more reason to say no,” Esme pointed out. “The reason my parents and I had problems is how set they were on their way or no way at all.”

  “And yet you would have married a horny teenager who didn’t have the proverbial pot to pee in before you were even of age?”

  Esme’s hand tightened around the bottle, but she kept her voice level, trying hard to think of her aunt as an emotionally distraught parent. Someone hitting out because of a lack of c
oping skills. “I loved Toby. I would have married him … if he had come back from Afghanistan.”

  Something in the flatness of her answer must have gotten through to Tina. She suddenly slumped into the chair and looked at Esme with watery eyes.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so … sarcastic and petty. I’m just worried about my situation, and wishing you could have everything I can’t have.” She shrugged again, less forcefully, and tried to smile.

  “Aunt Tin—Tía—would you get anything out of me marrying Rafael Benton?”

  “No. What could I possibly get?” The scowl returned to Tía’s face. “Why do you ask?”

  “No reason. You were close to Cody, though, right?”

  Her aunt’s smile was instant and genuine. “She was the daughter I always wanted. We bonded the day we met.” Just as quickly, the smile disappeared. “Which is why Rafael hates me. Or says he does. He couldn’t stand not being the most important person in his sister’s life. She’d always looked up to him, and he was jealous when she stopped. Cody had grown up and he never has.”

  Her aunt’s odd mixture of rants and raves threatened to give her a headache again. Or emotional whiplash. Cody had been a daughter to her? I could have been. “I’m sure he doesn’t hate you, Tía. And—thank you for thinking maybe I’d be the right person for this … strange job offer. But I’m not.” She walked around the table and rested a hand on her aunt’s shoulder briefly. “I need to go check on my horse. Do you need anything before I go? Or maybe I could bring dinner back.”

  “Don’t bother.”

  Esme wished her voice didn’t hold so much indifference, such emptiness. “Hey, even if you’re not going into town, I could run by Tía’s. I’ll even sing if you think it would help—though I still don’t know why me doing karaoke would help anything.”