Rafe McMasters might not know it yet, but he had a housekeeper. Her.
“Hello. McMasters residence.”
“Hello. Who’s this? Don’t tell me—I might have known he wouldn’t waste any time. Boy thinks he’s wasted too much time already.”
“Who is this?”
“Fielding. Cornelius Fielding. I thought he might have gotten tired of country life by now, be ready to come back to the Windy City. Plenty of women here, I told him. Plenty of other business opportunities, too, if he became bored with commodity trading. But he’s had his mind made up, and nothing I offered could change it. Three things he wanted and now I guess he’s got them all.”
“Cornelius Fielding?” The man was talking a mile a minute, but his name had registered. “The billionaire?”
“Please. Multibillionaire. The richest man in the United States—except for that computer genius, darn him. Fat lot of good it does me, if I can’t keep a good man on the payroll. What’s your name, young lady? He must have swept you right off your feet. Fast worker, that Rafe McMasters. Always has been. Saved my life, you know. That’s how we met. Been working for me ever since, until he finally got enough money to execute his plan. Rafe’s big on planning things out, you know. First part was easy—knew he’d get that part. Land and a house. All that takes is money, and I did teach him a thing or two about making money. But I thought finding a woman, the right woman, would have been harder. It should have been. Especially one with all those essentials.”
“Essentials?” The man was talking so fast, Sidonie could barely keep up.
“Qualifications he said he wanted for his wife. Told him he shouldn’t set his standards too high. Not too low, either. But perfection’s hard to come by. No offense, but I thought maybe he’d never find you. What did you say your name was? See it on the wedding invitation, I know, but I like to know what to call the people I care about.”
“Sidonie. Sidonie Saddler. And I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. Rafe works for you?”
“Worked. For almost fifteen years. Told me from the first he’d be moving on when he was ready to go after his dream. Not in those words, you understand. Rafe says he doesn’t dream, he plans. Whatever he calls it, it looks like he’s done it—gotten the whole kit and caboodle. The land, the house and the woman. You be good to him. Rafe McMasters deserves the best.”
“Mr. Fielding, you’ve—”
“Corny, call me Corny. I’m going to be godfather to your children. Didn’t he tell you that? You don’t object, do you? Good thing to have a muitibillionaire as a godfather.”
“No kidding. But, Corny—”
“Sid—what did you say your name was again? Sidney?”
“Sidney with an o in the middle. Sid-oh-nee.”
“Well, Sidonie, I like you. “Fraid I wouldn’t, you know. Rafe’s idea of an ideal woman wasn’t mine. So, when’s the wedding?”
“I have no idea. I’m not his fiancée, I’m his housekeeper.”
“Housekeeper?”
“Well, he doesn’t know it yet, but I’m applying for the job. He’s living in my house, and he advertised for a housekeeper. I want to stay here, and I don’t mind cooking and cleaning, so it should work out Don’t you think?”
“My, my. This sounds interesting. How did he end up in your house?”
“He rented it. Behind my back.”
“Not like Rafe to be underhanded—”
“Oh, he wasn’t. My financial guardian rented the house to him while I was in New York, not knowing that I would need it. I’ve decided not to evict Mr. McMasters, as long as he lets me stay here with him.” She paused. “You know him better than I do. What do you think? Will he go for it?”
“You don’t sound like any housekeeper I ever met. How much experience do you have?”
“None. But how hard can it be to keep a house clean? I’m not afraid of work.”
“Can you cook?”
“Sort of.”
“What do you do, Sidonie? Interesting name, that. Don’t think I’ve ever heard it before.”
“My mother wanted an unusual name for me—one that would look good on a marquee.”
“Ah. You’re an actress.”
“No. A dancer. But I hurt my knee and I need a place to stay while I get back in shape. I thought I had one, but then I got here—”
“A dancer? Who can’t cook.” Cornelius chuckled. “Tell me, young lady, what do you look like?”
“I’m tall, five feet eight inches, red hair, blue eyes. And Rafe doesn’t think I’m a lady. Why?”
“Lady or not, you sound like the right woman to me—just the person to teach that boy what really is essential in a marriage.”
“I don’t want to marry him. I want to live with him. I mean, I just want to live in my house. As his housekeeper. Do you think he’ll agree to that?”
“If Rafe doesn’t hire you, or marry you, you come to Chicago and look me up. I’ve been a widower for twenty years—thought I’d never find another wife as good as the first one, but you might change my mind. And, Sidonie, tell him I said to remember my motto— Never Pass Up An Opportunity.”
“I’m not sure he’ll think of me as an opportunity.”
“If he doesn’t, he’s a fool.”
“All right, Miss Saddler. You’re hired.”
She flashed him a smile that made his knees go as weak as his head. He had to be soft in the head—he’d just agreed to make Sidonie Saddler his housekeeper.
His live-in housekeeper. He’d have to move, of course. No way could he live under the same roof with her—not if he wanted a rat’s chance in a maze of courting any of the ladies in the county. No decent woman would put up with a chorus girl, even if she were disguised as a housekeeper.
Rafe pushed himself away from the kitchen counter he’d been leaning on and headed for the door. “Come into the study and I’ll give you your instructions.” Wrestling with his problem—how to keep Sidonie safe and himself sober and respectable—made the words come out curt and cold. He was halfway down the hall before he realized she wasn’t following him. He glanced over his shoulder.
Sidonie was standing in the doorway to the kitchen. When he caught her eye, she said coolly, “I’ll be with you as soon as I feed Gypsy.”
He should have known Sidonie wasn’t going to be a subservient kind of servant. “Gypsy? Oh, that’s what you named the mutt. I guess she’ll be staying, too.”
“That’s all right, isn’t it?”
For the first time that afternoon, Sidonie looked worried. Mostly she’d been doing a great imitation of a steamroller. She’d flattened him out in a New York minute.
“Yeah, the dog can stay.” Rafe made a disgusted noise as he stomped to his study. What had he done? A woman like her living in the same house was the last thing he needed. Housekeeper? Ha! No one was going to buy that story. Sidonie sure as hell didn’t look like a woman who knew how to cook and clean.
But she was hurt, and her injury reminded him of his own knee problem years ago, the injury that had ended his career as a rodeo