Wanted: Wife Read Online Free PDF Page A

were teetering on some unknown brink—no thanks to Denny, I’m sure. Suddenly my heart began to race, an excitement boiling inside me. “Well, Mr. Devine, that last one sure seemed like a winner. Was she the one?”
    He watched through the window as she climbed into her Jeep. “She wanted to write a story on me.”
    “Ooh—competition. Lucky I got here first.”
    “Yes.” His eyes shifted firmly to mine. “Wasn’t it, though?”
    “So,” I said as I raised the mic, “have you found your wife?”
    “Yes,” he said. “You.”

 
    Chapter Three
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    One Day I’ll Look Back on This and It’ll All Seem Funny
    “Y OU,” A NDY D EVINE said. “I want you for my wife.”
    As that statement traveled the neuron pathway to the part of my brain which would absorb, interpret and decide how to answer, I couldn’t help but think of all the bizarre I’d seen. From the dog on a high wire balancing an egg on his nose; a three-legged goose; a woman who ate nails; a man surgically altered to look like Chewbacca; a woman living in a refrigerator; an old man who hoisted a truck when it rolled atop his grandson’s leg; to a couple whose house had two rooms filled to the ceiling with pennies, I’d seen heroism and lunacy, oddity and insanity. But up until that moment, none of it had made my jaw drop. Because up until then, none of it had involved me.
    So, “What?” was all I managed to reply.
    To which, he reiterated, “I want you for my wife.”
    I smiled, clearing my throat; he had to be playing with me. “I’m flattered, Mr. Devine, truly I am, but what’s your real answer?”
    He leaned in, his proximity sending numbing signals to my brain. “The same.”
    I laughed. “You’re joking.”
    “When I’m joking,” he said, moving even closer, “you’ll know it.”
    Denny lowered his camera. “Excuse me,” he said to Andy Devine, “but are you for real?”
    “Pardon?” he answered, unblinking.
    “Okay, never mind,” Denny said, realigning the camera. “Go on.”
    I slapped my hand over the lens. “Shut that thing off. Are you insane?”
    Denny lowered it. “I ought to be asking you the same thing. It’s the best offer you’ve had in years.”
    I scowled at him, returning to the subject at hand. “Mr. Devine—a word.” Then I promptly crossed to the other side of the room. When I turned, Denny had sunk into a folding chair, and my would-be suitor was standing before me.
    “Yes?” he said, calmly attentive.
    A part of me was so flabbergasted I hardly knew where to begin, but I retained enough professionalism to override anything. “I’m a TV reporter, Mr. Devine, not a candidate for your fiancée. I’m here to cover a story, not to become one. So, as tempting as your offer may be, I have to decline.”
    He lifted a brow. “Why, Ms. Knott, are you patronizing me?”
    That threw me. “What? No!”
    “Because I detect a hint of condescension.”
    “Then you’re imagining things.” My hands were sweating; I swiped them on my skirt. “I’m just stating a fact.”
    His gaze dipped seductively. “So, you don’t think I’m worth considering?”
    “Mr. Devine, don’t take—” Suddenly I was struck by the line of his jaw, so angular and forthright. I swear, he could be a judge or a juror or anyone who’s supposed to be capable of impartiality, and yet . . . There was something about it, in his emerging beard and how it sloped toward his mouth, that was so indefinably sexy it knocked all sense out of me. I was fighting a losing battle and I knew it.
    I cleared my throat and began again. “Look, I don’t want you to take this personally, but—”
    “I won’t,” he said. “In fact, I’ve gone out of my way to make sure personalities have nothing to do with it. I need a wife to help run the farm and have our children. And if she does, she’ll share equally in all the rewards and benefits. All I ask is that she’s healthy, able to have children, and be willing to work hard. You,