Wanted: Wife Read Online Free PDF

Ms. Knott . . .” He looked me over. “. . . appear to meet all the criteria.”
    The man was astounding. “But you know nothing about me!”
    “What do I need to know beyond what I can see?”
    “How about what’s inside me, what my interests are, if I’m honest, how I take my coffee—Christ!” I stabbed my fingers into my hair. A comb tumbled out. “Why, if I even like you, for Pete’s sake!”
    He plucked the comb from the floor. “Do you like me, Ms. Knott?” he said with the barest of smiles, the bit of tortoise-shell plastic pinched between his fingers.
    I snatched it from him, shoving it into my hair. “That’s not the point, and it never was.”
    He leaned in. “My point exactly.”
    Good God! He was infuriating. “Look.” I took a breath, forcing myself to calm. “I don’t even know why we’re having this conversation. I came here to cover a story—”
    “Like the woman who just left,” he interjected, and not without apparent distaste.
    I blinked, though I didn’t let it throw me. “She was practically your clone. Pick her. She’s perfect.”
    “You’re perfect,” he said, closing in so tightly my back smacked against the wall. His eyes were like two blue burning coals. “I’m sure your fiancé knew how you liked your coffee, what magazines you read, how you looked first thing in the morning. Yet he left you anyway. Maybe because he couldn’t see what I do, even without looking. You’re what I want. Sometimes you just know.”
    He reached into his vest and pulled out a business card. “Take three days to think about it.” He slipped the card into the pocket of my blouse. “Then call this number.” And with one more rake of those eyes, he walked out of the hall.
    He left me a shivering mass of disorientation, wondering how the hell I’d let the man flip the tables on me. I looked to Denny as he watched Andy Devine go. He set his camera on a chair and joined me.
    “Jesus—you’re white as a sheet.” His face darkened. “What’d he say to you?”
    I took a moment for my heart to slow, and reaching into my blouse pocket, idly handed him the business card. “He asked me to marry him.”
    “I already know that.” He glanced at the card. “Jinks’ Gas? What the hell?”
    “He said to call that number when I’ve made up my mind. Gave me three days.”
    “From the way you look, you must be considering the possibility.”
    That snapped me back to reality. “Do you have any idea what kind of day I’ve had?” I grabbed my gear and headed for the door. “I’m out of here.”
    “But what’s the story!”
    “There is no story!”
    “Oh, there’s a story,” Denny said, following me out. “We’re just not filing it yet.”
    Then file this: they were all crazy. This Andy Devine, Denny, all those insane women who thought the answer to their dreams waited inside that firehouse. As if it were that easy to hop into a new life as simply as changing your shoes! Well, I wasn’t blinded by Mr. Devine’s divineness, and the only thing I’d fall for right now was a stiff drink and my feet propped atop something soft and cushy. I squeezed my eyelids, near running to the van. When would this hell-day be over?
    I ’D BEEN SO jangled by Andy Devine, I didn’t even remember Richard’s text until we were at our building. As Denny pulled the news van to the no-parking curb, our press credentials giving us access to virtually anywhere, I dug my phone from my purse.
    “I’m coming up with you,” he said, already climbing out of the van.
    “Oh no you’re not,” I said, slipping the phone into my pocket. “He’s probably left for the airport anyway, and if he hasn’t, he knows how you feel about him. I don’t want any drama.”
    “You’re getting it anyway,” Denny said, cupping my elbow as we entered the lobby. Geraldo, the doorman, looked up from his desk, seeming genuinely surprised to see me.
    “Ms. Knott!” the doorman said. “You’re here! But I’d been