Dear Cupid Read Online Free PDF Page B

threshold, he breathed a sigh of relief. Five minutes wasn’t long, but it was better than nothing. He just prayed his plan worked.
    Following her down the single step from the foyer into the living area he gave thanks that the maid service he used had come while he was in L.A. A comfortable sofa and overstuffed chair sat before a big-screen TV with a theater sound system. At the far end of the room was the dining area, with a kitchen tucked off to one side. Or, at least, it would be the dining area if he ever got around to buying a table and some chairs. He discounted that small negative, though, since the wall of windows along the back of the house revealed an expansive deck that overlooked a swimming pool, barbecue grill, and plenty of furniture for eating one story below.
    As she walked toward the windows, he fought the urge to ask her what she thought of his place. The impulse surprised him since he normally didn’t care about such things. He had high hopes, though, that this woman would share his house with him, so her opinion mattered.
    She barely took a second to glance around before she turned to face him. “All right. Let’s hear it.”
    He hesitated, realizing the plan that had seemed so brilliant that morning now seemed a bit absurd. “It’s kind of complicated. See, I’m, uh, looking for a wife.”
    Her eyes widened. Not a good sign. “Well, if you’re looking at me, you’re looking in the wrong direction, I’ll tell you that right now.”
    “No, I don’t want you to
be
the wife, necessarily. I, um ... I want you to help me find a wife.”
    Her face went blank as if he’d wounded her, and for a moment he wondered if the straightforward approach would have been better. Except he wanted to spend time with her too badly to risk an outright rejection.
    “Excuse me?” she said at last.
    He took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “I’ve decided it’s time I got married. Only, with my schedule I don’t have a lot of time to look around. So, I want you to help me.”
    She laughed. “You’re kidding, right?”
    “Not at all.”
    “Why me? I’m no dating service.”
    He shrugged. “Your friend said Wife for Hire handles things like interviewing housekeepers and nannies, so I figure why not a wife?”
    “Because that’s not how it’s done.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because—” She spread her arms in a gesture that drew her top tightly across her breasts, distracting him. He’d thought she looked stunning in red, but the orange outfit she wore now nearly brought him to his knees. “This is not the Middle Ages, here. Nowadays,  relationships are based on mutual respect, attraction, compatibility, not just personal gain and convenience. Couples generally meet, go out, fall in love, pick out china, set a date, that sort of thing.”
    He forced his attention back to her face. “I plan to love my wife. As for china, I’ll let you—I mean her—pick that out.”
    She glanced around and muttered under her breath, “Well, I’ll say this much. If anyone ever needed a wife, it’s you.”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?” He frowned.
    She stared at him as if trying to decide if he was serious. “Your furniture,” she said at last.
    He looked around. “Yeah?”
    “Well, it’s not exactly—How do I put this delicately? It looks like rejects from Goodwill.”
    “Hey, my parents gave me that sofa when I graduated college.” He tried to see the room from a woman’s point of view. “All right, I’ll admit, it’s a little worn around the edges, but is that any reason to throw out a perfectly good sofa? It’s just broken in.”
    “Have you ever heard of reupholstering?”
    “Well, sure, but I figured if I ever got married my wife would probably want to redecorate, so why do it twice?”
    She rolled her eyes. “Because—archaic as it sounds and may the feminists forgive me—few women want to marry a man who looks like he can’t afford to support himself, much less a family.”
    “I can