2

Chloe Wilkes looked at her brother in horror. “You. Did. What?” she managed.

Caleb grinned. “Joined an agency for you. You have a cute photo, adorable profile and about sixty hits already.”

She looked from him to his wife, Vicky, then back to Caleb. “How dare you?”

“Come on, Clo. We’re a family. We do everything together. Well, most things. And Vicky hasn’t anything to do with this, so don’t blame her.”

“Just because you’re married, doesn’t mean I have to be,” Chloe snapped. “I’ve only been single a year. What’s more, I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions, and joining a dating agency isn’t one of them.”

“It’s not a dating agency. It’s called Rent-a-Bride. You cut out the dating all together, which you’re no good at anyway, and just marry them.”

Chloe groaned. “I don’t believe you. Please, tell me you’re kidding.”

Caleb shook his head, bringing up the site on his tablet. “See, such a cute picture.”

She looked at the image on the screen. At least he’d picked one of her in normal clothes, rather than her work outfit. She should be grateful for small mercies, but that didn’t dispel her frustration. “I hate you,” she muttered, reaching for her coat.

“Hate is a mean word. I’ll tell.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake, Caleb. How old are you? For once, why can’t you act like my older brother and stand up for me rather than tease me all the time?” She shoved her arms into her coat. “I’m going home.”

“Oh, come on, Chloe,” he said. “It’s Shrove Tuesday, pancake day. We always spend it together.”

“Not this year, and you know what? I’m giving you up for lent.”

“Chloe, please,” Caleb began.

Chloe grabbed her bag and headed out, letting the front door slam behind her. How dare he? Rent-a-bride? Just the thought made her sick to her stomach. Was she to be sold because she’d broken off her engagement to Leon?

Her former dance partner became a different man once he’d had a few drinks, which was way too often. She’d blamed the countless falls on her misjudging the jumps, but it was hard to work with a partner who wasn’t sober. After the last time he missed and she’d broken her leg, she’d realized the drinking wasn’t ever going to get better unless he wanted to stop, and Leon didn’t want to change.

So, in one decision, she’d changed her career and become single. She was happy in her choice. OK, so it wasn’t where she’d ideally wanted to be at this point in her life, but if God wanted her married, then he’d send Mr. Right to sweep her off her feet. It wouldn’t happen because Caleb decided to interfere.

Once home, Chloe deadlocked the front door and logged onto the Internet. She found her profile and read it. Caleb had listed her to a tee—likes, dislikes, hobbies, and even her faith. She tried a couple of passwords, but neither worked. She wasn’t about to ring Caleb and ask him for it.

Well, at least she couldn’t pick up the messages if she couldn’t log in. That was a blessing. Her email chimed and she pulled it up. Once the page loaded she looked at it in despair. Seven emails, all from Rent-a-Bride.

Shaking all over, her breath ragged, she opened the first email. “Hi, my name is Shane. I red yer profile an I think your smoking hot. Mebbe we cood get together an…”

She shook her head. “And you, my friend, need to learn to spell.” She deleted it. The next one was graphic in the intentions of the sender and left very little to her imagination.

Swallowing hard, she hit delete and then got rid of the rest of her inbox. She buried her head in her hands. “Caleb, Caleb, Caleb. What have you done? I’ll have to change my email address and that will cause no end of trouble. Or I just send all these to spam and ignore them. Or both.”

She would have to call him and ask him to delete her account. So much for saying she wouldn’t talk to him for six weeks. She drummed her fingers on the table and reached for her phone.

Another email arrived. Chloe moved the mouse to delete, but instead opened it. She sighed. “Hello, Chloe. My name is Nigel. I read your profile and am contacting you as we are both Christians and have a lot of other things in common. I find myself in a bit of a fix and am hoping we can come to a mutually beneficial agreement. I’ve attached a picture of myself and hope to hear from you soon. Yours faithfully, Nigel Turner.” The email ended with a verse. The joy of the Lord is my strength. Nehemiah 8:10.

She scrolled down the page and looked at the photo.

“Wow.”

Close cropped wavy brown hair, a neat trimmed beard and the most amazing brown eyes she had ever seen. He wore a grey suit and brown tie with a bright white button-down shirt. She picked up the bottle of water on the desk and drained it. Be still my heart, the bloke is a hunk. And a Christian.

But still a bloke, nonetheless. How did she know he wasn’t a creep like the other emails she’d received?

She probably shouldn’t do this, but she would reply. “Hello, Nigel. I don’t make it a habit to advertise on sites like this, and I have no desire for a mutually beneficial anything with anyone. Especially when I know next to nothing about you. This is real life, not some trashy romance novel and a casual hook up.” She hit send.

Chloe shoved the chair back, stood, and headed into the kitchen. Baking always calmed her nerves and it was Pancake Day after all. Setting up the tablet computer on the work top, she hit the music app. Country music filled the air.

She pulled out the ingredients for batter and started beating them together. The griddle was almost hot when her email chimed again.

“Hey, Chloe. Sensible woman. After all I could be the modern day Jack the Ripper looking for my next victim. But I can assure you I’m not. I have a firm faith in God, and have done for the last fifteen years. Perhaps we could meet in a public place to talk? Or you might feel more comfortable talking on the phone. Or if you prefer to pick the time and place that’s fine by me. I’m based in England. Distance no problem. I’ll come to you. How about Saturday?”

Chloe bit her lip. She hated to admit she was lonely and this guy— “Oh, why not? If we’re in public and he is a creep I can leave. Caleb, you should know by now not to dare me to do anything. Signing me up to this site is the biggest dare of them all.” Her hands reached for the keyboard. She typed rapidly, hit send and then turned back to the griddle, pouring several pancakes onto the sizzling hot surface.

****

Nigel’s breath hitched again as an email arrived from Chloe. To reply so fast she must be in the same time zone as him. Not that money was an option if she lived in Europe.

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” he read. “OK, a public place. How about the Three-Sixteen café in Headley Cross, Berkshire? It’s on the High Street. I can’t do this weekend as it’s my birthday and my parents are taking me out somewhere. So, how about three o’clock, next Saturday?”

Part of him couldn’t believe it. Berkshire was a mere eighty miles inland. Not far at all. But a week on Saturday? That was almost two weeks into his timetable. But what choice did he have?

One email later and everything was set. Why’d she pick Headley Cross? Did she live there? If he went there tomorrow when he was free would he find her? Would this crazy idea even work?