by Donna Fasano
Desperate Bachelor
Ben Danvers was about to lose everything — unless he was married within the next few weeks. The terms of his grandfather's will were outrageous but airtight. Ben had just about given up hope when the last woman he ever expected to wed made a startling proposal.
Bargaining Bride
Chelsea Carson struck a deal Ben couldn't refuse: He could keep his beloved farm if he would fulfill her lifelong dream. No strings attached, no messy emotions when it was over. Their makeshift marriage would be perfect — unless Chelsea fell in love with her temporary husband…
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 new
spapers.
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.
"Why did he do it, Aunt May?" Ben could hear his growing frustration leaking into his question, but he couldn't help it. This ridiculous situation had him feeling pretty damned desperate.
"The auctioneer was only trying to do his job," Aunt May explained.
Ben shook his head. "I'm not talking about that guy. I mean Granddad. Why is he taking all this…" he lifted his hands in a grand, sweeping motion "…away from me?"
May looked at him for a long moment before she spoke, and when she did, her voice was hushed, almost a whisper. "It wasn't his intention to hurt you."
"Aunt May, he's not only hurting me, he's cheating me." His voice had a matter-of-fact quality to it. "Cheating me out of everything I've worked for all of these years."
"Oh, Ben." The two little words were brimming with sympathy and compassion. "Please don't talk like that. To tell you the honest truth, I don't know what he was thinking. John Reed was my brother, but for the life of me I never could quite figure him out."
Ben's gaze swept the shop, taking in the colorful displays of fruits and vegetables, jars of golden honey, jams and jellies and nut butters, and the fresh baked goods that were homemade by a local Amish family. The familiar scent of apples and cinnamon did nothing to calm him.
"Forced marriage." His tone was just as incredulous now as it had been over two weeks ago at the reading of his grandfather's will. "This kind of crap hasn't been done for a hundred years." Then he murmured, "Pardon my language."
May only offered an empathic nod.
"If I don't comply with that idiotic clause…" Ben rubbed at the tension building in the muscles at the back of his neck. "If I don't get married by next week, my orchard is going to be auctioned off." He pointed vaguely toward the door. "That pack of apathetic lawyers in town is going to sell my land to the highest bidder and give the profits to a list of charities that's longer than my arm."
Ben knew it was unfair of him to blame the lawyers who were handling his grandfather's estate. Hell, he didn't even know them. But the need to lash out at someone or something was strong, and at the moment Ben didn't care to deny it.
Pressing her lips together, May evidently couldn't think of a proper response. His aunt looked as helpless as he felt.
"This land has been in our family for five generations." Stress fueled Ben's frustration. "And now that it's time for the orchard to be passed on to me, I'm going to lose it all. All because of a willful, old coot!"
May's spine straightened with affront. "I want to remind you that the man you're calling an old coot was your grandfather. I won't have you talking about him that way. You were just a baby when your father died, and your grandfather saw to it that you and your mother were taken care of. And then after your mother passed, he raised you the best he could."
"I know. I know, Aunt May," Ben relented. "I owe you and Granddad everything. I do know that." He planted a fist on his hip. "But why this?" he asked. "Why force me to get married?"
May shrugged. "Maybe John wanted you to have someone you could share all this with. Maybe he wanted you to have a wife and children of your own so you could experience the same happiness he'd found with your grandmother and your mother."
Ben thrust his hands up into the air, his eyes imploring. "But why the time frame of twenty-one days? I had no objection to marriage. I would have settled down one day. Eventually, I would have found myself a wife and had a few kids." He shook his head and sighed. "But all that takes time. And I've been spending all of mine building up Reed's Orchard."
"Maybe your grandfather noticed that too."
A disgusted sound burst from the back of Ben's throat. "But, Aunt May, how am I supposed to get a woman to the altar in such a short time? I mean, I don't see it happening unless I toss some stranger over my shoulder, caveman style, and carry her off to the church. And all that would do is get me arrested."
After a moment of silence, his aunt pointedly reminded him, "Time's getting shorter every day."
"You think I don't know that? This situation is impossible, I'm telling you." Ben ran a hand over his jaw. Then his tone lowered as though he were speaking to himself. "What could Granddad have been thinking?"
May rested her elbows on the counter and leaned forward. "John was a loving and caring man. He provided for his family. He went to church regularly. He was an upstanding citizen." She tucked a wispy strand of gray hair back into place atop her tightly teased beehive hairdo. Styles may have changed over the years, but May staunchly maintained that what was good enough for girls of the B-52s was good enough for her… besides, she claimed the do made her look taller, and everyone knew looking taller meant looking thinner. Then she would invariably bring up Lady Gaga. The woman's tabloid habit certainly kept her abreast of things. "But I must admit that at times he could get some quirky notions into his head."
A small chuckle rumbled in her ample chest before she continued. "Remember the time... you were just a boy… when your grandfather found that clay pot shard on a plot of ground he bought off Duck Neck Road?"
Although Ben knew the place his aunt spoke of, there was a well-developed grove of apple trees there now, he shook his head, unable to recall the particular incident.
May didn't bother to contain her grin. "Well, John was certain he'd come upon a great archaeological find. He contacted the community college, but they weren't interested. So he called some of the universities in Philadelphia. Two professors came out to have a look-see, but in the end they told John it was nothing, that he should just go ahead and plant his trees." May leaned back, resting her chubby forearm on the nearby window sill. "John wouldn't listen to the experts, though. He decided to excavate himself. He didn't know a thing about digging up ancient relics, but he dug just the same."
"What did he find?" Ben asked.
"Dirt."
Ben was helpless against the smile that curled the corners of his mouth. "I do remember when he lost all that money."
May nodded, laughing at the memory she, too, obviously remembered well.
"He'd had a dream," Ben said. "Granddad was certain he knew the winning lottery numbers. He was going to be a millionaire. He played a hundred dollars a day for nearly a month before he gave up."
"And that stubborn man never did admit defeat," May added. "He simply grumbled about the whole setup being fixed. Of course it wasn't fixed. He'd just dreamed the wrong numbers, is all."
There was a moment of silence as both Ben and May thought about some of John Reed's other odd exploits. Ben had loved his grandfather dearly, but he did have to admit that there were times when the man was slightly off kilter. And this forced-marriage deal was simply another one of those times. But on this particular occasion, his grandfather's peculiarities were
going to cost Ben everything.
"Like I said," May finally commented, "sometimes John got some funny notions into his head. But don't go thinking you can fight the will. Having John Reed declared incompetent would be impossible, because he was as sane as Solomon." She hooted before she added, "Too bad he wasn't as wise."
"My lawyer agrees with you," Ben said. "About fighting the will, I mean. He says there are too many people here in Kemblesville who would testify to Granddad's 'soundness of mind.' Besides, the legal fees alone would force me to mortgage the orchard, or worse, sell some acreage. Which would defeat the whole purpose, anyway; so I don't see how I can win in this situation." He inhaled deeply. "I really don't believe Granddad was incompetent, Aunt May. If he had been, he couldn't have kept Reed's Orchard going all these years. I guess he was just..." His voice trailed off as he searched for the correct adjective to describe John Reed.
"Quirky?" May provided.
Ben closed his eyes, his head slowly bobbing up and down.
He perched his hip on the counter, hung his head and rubbed the knuckle of his index finger back and forth across his bottom lip in contemplation. Finally, he said, "Well, Granddad's eccentricity is sure to ruin me this time. I can't for the life of me think of a way out of this one."
"Looks pretty cut and dried to me," May said, her tone blunt and to the point. "You need to find a wife."
"That's easy for you to say." He lowered his hand to his thigh, swiping several times at an imaginary piece of lint on the soft cotton of his khaki work trousers. "You're not the one who has to approach some unsuspecting woman and ask her to pledge herself to me." After a moment, he added, "For better or for worse."
"Well, I think you need to start doing some approaching," May advised.
"I know, I know. I've been thinking about it."
