Free His Wife for a While by Donna Fasano Page A

the vee between his thumb and index finger, Ben decided that he was damned determined to find out.
     
    ~  ~  ~
     
    Chelsea stood at the counter in Ben's kitchen, layering thin slices of baked ham onto fresh, chewy rye bread. The euphoria of having saved the helpless trapped owl still had her feeling as though she were floating on air. Even Ben's request that they spend the afternoon together sharing a picnic lunch hadn't popped her bubble of happiness, although it should have.
    She couldn't help feeling a bit betrayed by Ben. She had expected him to fulfill his end of their deal without all this hoopla about getting to know one another .
    That first night, she'd fumed into the wee hours of the morning. How dare he suddenly decide to demand stipulations to a deal that had already been made, she had railed in the silence of her room. But then she'd mulled over his arguments in her head, and she'd been forced to admit that he did have a point.
    It really wasn't fair of her to expect him to engage in a most intimate act with her, when she wasn't willing to cooperate. Her face heated at the mere thought.
    The idea of being a participant in the act of sex was so alien to her. She'd never in her life imagined herself as part of a man/woman relationship. Why would she, when she knew she wasn't pretty enough, or good enough, or lovable enough to warrant a man's attention? Hadn't she been told again and again and again just how worthless she was? And hadn't she learned that each and every time she had tried to gain the affection of someone important to her, she had been slapped down and trampled on?
    For the past few days she'd been worrying about Ben's insistence that the two of them become acquainted. She didn't want Ben to know her. And she didn't want to know him any more than she did right now. The distance between them, even though they were husband and wife, was safe for her. She was terrified to come any closer.
    Ben was a nice person, a wonderful man. But if she opened up her emotions to him, she knew his inevitable negative reaction to what she revealed would hurt her, and she had to protect herself. It was imperative.
    But she knew he'd made up his mind not to sleep with her until they had spent time together. So somehow she was going to have to get to know Ben, and at the same time disclose as little about herself as possible. It wasn't that she wanted to deceive him, not at all. The problem was complicated, and she hoped that she could manage to meet Ben's demands without making herself vulnerable to him.
    "I found a blanket we can use."
    Chelsea turned and saw Ben come into the kitchen.
    "I thought we could have our picnic out in the Old Orchard," he said.
    She nodded, then turned back to begin wrapping the sandwiches. Ben pulled a basket from the pantry and loaded it with fruit, napkins, a couple cans of soda. When she'd finished with the sandwiches, she tucked them inside with the rest of the food.
    The Old Orchard was only a few hundred feet behind Ben's brick house. Here were the last of the original giant apple trees, the thick branches gnarled, the bark rough and dark with age.
    "Why do you keep them?" Chelsea asked.
    Ben shrugged. "Granddad always said he kept them for sentimental reasons. I guess I feel the same. The dwarf trees are so much easier to prune and harvest, they're more economical. But these old trees remind me of what the orchard was like when I was a kid."
    He stopped under one tree and spread out the blanket.
    "I used to climb these trees," he told her. "I want these trees to be around so my kids can climb them."
    It was as though a jolt of lightning zapped Chelsea and her gaze flew to Ben.
    Immediately he looked contrite.
    "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean... I was only…" He sighed. "I wasn't thinking." He shook his head and simply looked away from her.
    Soon he turned to face her, his green eyes solemn, and he promised, "I'll try to be more aware of what I'm saying."
    It was as though a