Wife by Wednesday by Catherine Bybee, Crystal Posey

other times, she took a neighborhood route. Admittedly, the blocks she jogged on were becoming more and more questionable and Samantha opted to drive to a safer trail or park. She couldn’t help but wonder how the beach by Blake’s home would compare.
    “Ten days isn’t going to work. I’ll put a call in and get it faster.”
    “The rush I paid for took it from a month to ten days. They said I couldn’t get it any faster.” Her breath came in heated pants but she kept moving.
    “I’ll take care of it.” His take-charge attitude struck her as funny.
    “Does anyone ever deny the great and powerful Blake Harrison?” she teased.
    “Only you. Why aren’t you out shopping? I told you to indulge.” He wasn’t happy about something; she could hear it in his voice.
    “Let me guess, you saw a tabloid picture of me in an old shirt and jeans.”
    He hesitated.
    “That’s it, isn’t it?” She laughed now and had to stop running to catch her breath. “Oh, Blake, let it go.”
    “Go shopping, Samantha. Our reception is going to bring out dignitaries and several influential families. We’ll be attending the theater, polo matches… you name it.”
    “My cut offs aren’t going to work?” Tears stung her eyes.
    “Even I saw Pretty Woman. Go shopping!”
    The thought of him enduring a chick-flick brought on more laugher. “I hope the woman was worth it.”
    “What woman?”
    “The one who dragged you to the cinema.”
    He laughed now; the sound filled her head with pictures of his handsome face and grey eyes. “It was my sister.”
    “That explains it.”
    “She won a bet. I had to take her or lose her respect.” His voice eased as the conversation continued. Seemed it always did after a few minutes on the phone. Sam found herself looking forward to his calls. “Did you stop running?” he asked.
    Samantha glanced down the deserted beach and placed a hand on her hip. “Yeah,” she said, her breath hissed.
    Blake groaned.
    “What is it?”
    “You want an honest answer?”
    “Always.” She turned to the breeze and forced her breath to slow.
    “Between the heavy breathing and that voice of yours, I’m having a hard time sitting still.”
    Her heart gave a hard kick in her chest. She sucked in her lower lip. “Well then, I won’t describe what I’m wearing or how I look and ruin your fantasy.”
    He chuckled. “I’m sure the paparazzi are there somewhere and a picture will be on my desk in the morning.”
    Sam glanced around but didn’t see anyone with a camera. “Maybe.”
    “Before I go, I tried calling your house but the phone line was out of order.”
    “The line developed static. The repair guys are coming in the morning to fix it. I’ve added caller ID so I can screen the media.” Sam pivoted and started a slow jog back to her car.
    “Solid plan. I’ll call tomorrow.”
    She smiled and just for fun added. “Oh, and Blake?”
    “Yeah.”
    She dipped her voice even lower and breathed into the phone. “I’m all hot and sweaty, too.”
    “Errrr.” His groan vibrated her earpiece.
    After he hung up, Samantha questioned the wisdom of flirting. As the smile threatened to leave permanent dimples on her cheeks, she shoved her concerns away and simply enjoyed the thought of a man showing interest in her as a woman.
    Even if that man was her husband.
    ****
    The media must have given up she thought as she walked up the steps to her townhome. There weren’t camera-holding forty-something-year-olds ducking behind bushes or zooming in from the corner. She stepped into her house, tossed her keys on the entryway table, and started for the stairs.
    When the doorbell rang, she twisted around and opened it on impulse. Mid swing, she realized she was probably inviting an undesired picture, one that would have Blake shaking his head tomorrow.
    But the person beyond the door wasn’t a reporter, or a photographer in pursuit of a quick buck.
    It was worse.
    Vanessa.
    The woman staring back at her was