Read Online Wife for Hire by Janet Evanovich - Free Book Online

“It’s just that I felt like eating cinnamon buns this morning.”
    Maggie sniffed at them. “They smell great.”
    â€œYeah, they’re pretty good,” Elsie said. “There’scereal in the cupboard and juice in the refrigerator. You’re supposed to be a wife, so I guess you could help yourself.” She took a bun and broke it up in a bowl for Horatio. “He’s got a sweet tooth,” she said to Hank.
    â€œYeah,” Hank said, “and you’ve got a soft heart.”
    â€œWell, don’t let it get around,” Elsie said. “People take advantage.”
    A huge bear of a man ambled through the back door. “Howdy,” he said. “Smells like cinnamon buns here. Boy, I love cinnamon buns.”
    Elsie looked at Hank. “He belong to you?”
    â€œAfraid so. This is my best friend, Bubba.”
    Bubba turned his attention to Maggie. “Wow,” he said softly. “I don’t mean to stare, but what happened to the rest of your pants?”
    Maggie tugged at the cutoff sweats. “I wasn’t expecting company.”
    â€œI’m not company,” Bubba said. “I’m Bubba.”
    â€œI’m Maggie,” she said, shaking his hand.
    Bubba took a cinnamon bun and tore off a huge chunk. “So, why’d you have to go and get married?” he said to Hank. “One day you just disappeared, and we all thought you got run out of town by some husband, or something. Then next thing here you are married.” Heleaned across the table and lowered his voice. “Is she pregnant?”
    â€œNo. I’m not pregnant,” Maggie said. “Do you want coffee?”
    â€œDo bears crap in the woods?” Bubba said grinning.
    Maggie rolled her eyes and poured the coffee. “I’d like to stay and chat, but I have work to do.” She took a roll and her coffee and eased herself out of the kitchen.
    â€œShe’s pretty,” Bubba said, “but I still don’t see why you had to marry her.”
    â€œShe just begged and begged,” Hank told him. “It was pitiful.”
    Maggie paused halfway to the stairs and considered going back into the kitchen to strangle her fake husband. He had a diabolical sense of humor, and he loved provoking her. Strangling would be satisfying, she thought, but it involved touching, and probably it was best to avoid physical contact. Once she got started there was no telling what she might do.
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    By ten-thirty she was flying through Chapter One. Bubba had left and Hank was working in his orchard with a machine that was going “thunk, thunk, thunk.” The day’s heat wasfiltering through the open window as Maggie tapped a sentence into her computer. She paused to study what she’d written.
    She supposed most people would frown on what Aunt Kitty had done, but she didn’t feel it was her place to judge. Aunt Kitty had lived to be ninety-three years old, and Maggie had known her as an old woman. She’d been kind, intelligent, and in love with life. Her diary had been filled with wonderful trivia, pressed flowers, romantic images, and from time to time the confessions of self-doubt and regret of a woman who’d spent the prime of her life in disrepute.
    The bulk of the diary consisted of the day-to-day business of running a bordello, and this is what Maggie found most fascinating: The number of linens purchased, the salary of the piano player, the garters ordered from a specialty shop in New Orleans, the bills from the iceman, coal company, green grocer. Mixed in with all of this were descriptions of customers, hilarious anecdotes, and trade secrets that were for the most part unpublishable.
    Two hours later Hank stood in the open door to Maggie’s study and watched her work. Shelooked completely absorbed in her project. She was typing rapidly, occasionally referring to the pad at her elbow, occasionally stopping to read from the