Wife for Hire by Christine Bell Page A

“He’s a surgeon specializing in facial reconstructions. Tell them, Marty,” she said. It was a fake out, though. She had no intention of letting him talk. She again took the stage, telling them story after story about wild dogs attacking toddlers and a gory table saw incident. By the time they were through, Lindy had barely touched her food but had no appetite. She was considering feigning a headache to get away from them when an attractive blonde in a conservative updo approached their table with a smile.
    “Mr. and Mrs. O’Neil? I’m Sarabeth and I’ll be your advisor. If you’re through eating, why don’t we head into one of the conference rooms and have a little intro session?”
    Lindy and Owen nearly knocked each other over in their haste to get away from their companions.
    “We’ll save you a seat at dinner!” Jordan called to them as they followed Sarabeth out of the great room.
    Owen slipped an arm around Lindy’s shoulder and bent low. “Kill me first,” he muttered.
    The warm puff of air caressing the shell of her ear sent a shiver straight down her spine, but she managed to force a smile.
    “Right in here,” Sarabeth said, waving them into a small, sparsely appointed conference room.
    They sat around a glass table and their advisor set a sheaf of papers in front of each of them. “As you know from our brochure, we’ll be meeting three times a week to work on communication and any issues that you might be having right now. The first thing we try to do here at the center is to establish some goals. I’d like you both to take a minute to jot down what you hope to get out of this experience. Then, on the same sheet, I want you to write down the one thing that’s non-negotiable in your relationship with one another. Any questions?”
    They both shook their heads.
    “Go ahead, then.”
    Lindy and Owen had talked about what reason they would give for being at the resort, agreeing to keep it vague, so that wasn’t an issue. It was the other question that caught her off guard. She risked a glance at Owen. He’d already set his pencil down and was staring out the window. What had he said earlier? It was easier to maintain a lie when it was close to the truth. With a shrug, she turned back to her writing.
    Another minute passed before Sarabeth spoke again. “Okay, that’ll do for now. Turn your chairs and face one another.”
    They both did as she’d requested, but Owen couldn’t hide his disdain for the task.
    Sarabeth patted his hand gently. “Don’t worry, it’s not so bad. You’d be surprised. By the end of week one, many men are happy to share intimate thoughts with their wives face to face.”
    He gave a derisive snort. Lindy tried to imagine how she would’ve felt if she was, indeed, Mrs. O’Neil and sniped, “Really, Owen. Is it going to kill you to be open-minded for once?”
    He sent her a warning glare beneath his thick black lashes, but it didn’t have the desired effect. A thrill of anticipation rushed through her. This could be fun.
    “I’m here, aren’t I?” he growled.
    “So like a man to think that’s enough, am I right, Sarabeth?” she said with a conspiratorial eye roll. “All you’ve got to do is show up, and you’re off the hook. I might let you slide with that attitude in bed, mister, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you do it here. It’s time to repair some of the damage you’ve done with your apathy, don’t you think?”
    Owen’s eyes went wide before narrowing and taking on a devilish gleam. Suddenly, every nerve in her body stood at attention, and her brain silently screamed, “Abort! Abort!”
    “Not to say that I’m p-perfect,” she stuttered, frantically trying to back-pedal. One look at Owen’s lethal smile, and she knew it was too little, too late.
    “Apathy? Darling, I’m not apathetic, I’m knackered. Your appetites are…unconventional to say the least, and by the time the props are put away, I need to rest. As much as I