by Leanne Banks
Michael had learned the hard way to detest vague agreements. “What is the duration of the assignment?”
“Just until Patricia and I return from the cruise,” Ivan said with a shrug.
“And we agree that if I handle the security for your daughter, then my company will handle the security for Ivan Enterprises beginning on the date of your return.” Michael clarified.
Ivan frowned. “Well, we might have to negotiate the start date for your company. After all, I'll have to give the current security company notice.”
Michael felt as if he were nailing a slimy worm to the wall. “What exactly would the start date be?”
Ivan rolled Ms shoulders in a near-squirm. “How about six months after I get back from Europe?”
“How about two weeks and in writing?” Michael returned. He was nobody's fool.
Ivan stretched his neck and gave an uneasy chuckle. “You and Miss Collins have a bit in common. You both drive a hard bargain. She wanted the agreement in writing too. No problem. I'll have my attorney draw up the papers.”
“That's not necessary,” Michael interjected, not distracted by Ivan's false flattery. “I'm sure your attorney is busy with other matters. I'll have my attorney draft an agreement.” He pulled out his Palm Pilot and flipped through his calendar. “Shall we meet Thursday at ten A.M. or three-thirty?”
“Ten A.M., but my attorney will want to look over the agreement before I sign it,” Ivan said with a wary glint in his beady eyes. He wore the expression of a man having second thoughts, as if he knew he'd dangled a juicy T-bone in front of a starving dog, and if he wasn't careful, the dog would take a few of his fingers along with the steak.
Michael would have to say that Ivan's uneasiness was warranted, he thought as he stubbed out his cigar in a crystal ashtray. After getting the shaft from his former business partner four years ago and getting dumped by his fiancée at the same time, Michael might not be a desperate man, but he was damn well determined. He'd learned never to depend on anyone, and his painful education, which had started at an early age, had turned all his soft spots to steel.
One week later, Ivan and Patricia were making last-minute preparations for the trip. Katie was to move in the following day, but she knew from Ivan's schedule that her boss had planned a meeting that afternoon with his attorney. She'd met Ivan's attorney, Gaston Hayes, before, and the beady-eyed, sharp-nosed man reminded her of something from the dark underworld. He gave her the creeps.
But he was important to Ivan, and since Katie had just entered into a legally binding agreement with Ivan, she suspected she had better stay informed. She wasn't normally snoopy and was scrupulous about respecting her employer's confidentiality, but this time she felt she had to make an exception.
Checking her watch, she saw that Gaston was due in two minutes. He was always prompt. Katie could hear Ivan trying to escape a discussion about packing with Patricia. Looking behind her and in front of her, she crept into Ivan's office and walked directly to the closet. Suddenly hearing voices, she opened the closet door, stepped inside, and closed it.
A hand closed over her mouth.
“It is better to be on the receiving end of a shocked stare than a bored yawn.”
—SUNNY COLLINS'S WISDOM
Chapter 2
Terror filled her throat and Katie opened her mouth to scream.
“Be quiet. We're both here for the same reason,” Michael Wingate said, still holding his hand over her mouth.
Her heart pounding a mile a minute, she shook her head to free her mouth with no success. Panicking, she stepped backward onto his foot.
He swore and removed his hand. For two seconds. She sucked in a quick breath, and he covered her mouth again.
“I'm not going to hurt you. Be quiet so we can hear. If I take my hand away, you have to promise that you'll be quiet Nod your head if you promise.”
She nodded. He removed his hand and she tried to step away from his tall, overpowering frame. She started to trip on something she couldn't see, and he pulled her upright against him.
“Just be still for God's sake!” he whispered tersely.
“Excuse me for not knowing the etiquette for sharing a closet with a man I don't know or trust” she whispered just as tersely.
“Be quiet. They're coming.”
Katie heard Ivan's and Gaston's voices as they entered the office and held her breath. If she could see her face right now, she was sure it was fire-engine red. She was completely mortified to be caught eavesdropping.
“I don't know where Katie went,” Ivan said.
“Maybe to the rest room or on a coffee break,” Gaston said. “Isn't that where female employees usually spend most of their time?”
Ivan chuckled. “You're right about that.”
Katie growled.
Michael pinched her.
She elbowed him in the ribs.
“Have a cigar, Gaston.”
“Thank you very much. You have the best.”
“Only the best,” Ivan said, and Katie could easily picture the old man puffing out his chest.
“Suck up,” she muttered, hearing the faint sounds of trimming, torching, and puffing.
“What did you need this afternoon, Mr. Rasmussen?”
“I'm going out of town tomorrow for an extended trip and I want you to check on the house every now and then.”
“Because of your arrangement concerning Wilhemina,” Gaston said.
“Exactly. I trust Katie as much as I trust any female employee. She's got a good head on her shoulders, but like most women her heart will ultimately win over her head I still can't believe she's going to try to do this job for one hundred thousand dollars. Orly of Beverly Hills charges two hundred thousand for matchmaking.”
Katie bit her tongue. She'd thought she'd done pretty well. Ivan's denigrating words stung.
“Well, Miss Collins is a rank amateur in this area. If you'll forgive me, sir, I'm surprised you chose someone to help Wilhemina who appears to have no fashion sense.”
“Katie is motivated. She may wear ugly clothes and be plain as beige, but she wants to make money. I've always tried to work that kind of motivation in my favor.”
“Which is why you're so successful, Mr. Rasmussen,” Gaston said.
“I'm going to be sick,” she mouthed, entirely too aware of Michael Wingate's muscular body brushing against hers. His cologne smelled ten times better than those stinky cigars.
“Now Wingate is a different matter. He's motivated by money, but I don't entirely trust him.”
“Then, if you'll pardon me, why did you hire him, sir?”
“Because my security company refused to accept the job,” Ivan said in disgust “I'll cut them loose for that. Michael was the most persistent security specialist to contact me. Most importantly, he was available to watch over Wilhemina while I'm gone.” He made a puffing sound. “Don't get me wrong. His record is squeaky clean.”
“Except?”
Ivan chuckled. “Very good, Gaston. Nobody's perfect” Michael held his breath while he waited to hear Ivan's comments.
“His black mark is his family. His parents were mentally unstable.”
Michael felt a knot form in his gut. Would the black cloud from his parents’ weaknesses ever leave? He gritted his teeth.
“A shame,” Gaston said with polite insincerity.
“Yes, it is. That's why I'd like you to stop by the house every so often. You don't mind, do you?”
“I'd be honored, sir.”
“Good, I'll give you a number where I can be reached in case of emergency,” Ivan said, and the intercom beeped.
“Ah, that's Patricia again.” He sighed. “Thank you for coming at such short notice. Do you mind seeing yourself to the door?”
“Not at all, sir.”
Michael heard a clicking sound. “Coming, Patricia,” Ivan said, then heavy footsteps followed.
“Wait ten seconds,” he said in a low voice to Katie Collins. It was a
wonder the woman hadn't maimed him when he'd tried to keep her quiet. Her hair smelled good, he'd noticed. Like a mixture of sunshine and flowers.
She moved forward to open the door and turned the knob to no avail. “It's locked!” she whispered in a horrified voice. “What are we going to—”
Michael put his hands on her slim waist and moved her aside, feeling the brush of her breasts against his arm as he set her down. For a half second, he wondered what her body really looked like without the ugly clothes.
Quickly setting the thought aside, he pulled out a credit card and unlocked the door. Katie followed him out in a rush.
Looking from side to side, she inhaled a deep draft of air and took a few tentative steps toward the outer office. She peeked through the doorway and waved him on. Michael stood right behind her and she turned, searching his face. The color of her blue eyes was unusually intense, he noticed. A man would have to stand close to notice, the same way he'd noticed the scent of her hair.
“I don't usually snoop,” she told him in a quiet voice. “But this thing with Ivan—”
Michael cut her off, his mouth still filled with bitterness at Ivan's assessment. “No explanation necessary. I was doing the same thing you were. Protecting myself.”
She frowned, obviously still uncomfortable with it. “Maybe, but it—”
“You don't owe me any explanations,” Michael said.
She studied him. “Okay. What he said about your parents…”
“I don't discuss my parents, especially with someone I don't know,” he interjected coldly. He didn't want tea and sympathy from Ivan's plain assistant.
Her mouth parted as if she wasn't sure what to say, then she closed it “Well, you obviously don't need to know my thoughts, but I've worked with Ivan for a year. His personal assessments of people are less than astute, and he's truly a world-class prick.”
She adjusted her glasses and walked away, leaving Michael to try to put the woman in a neat little box. He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head to one side. Something about her didn't fit.
Ivan and Patricia bid bon voyage from the Queen Elizabeth 2, and Katie moved into the Rasmussen mansion. She told herself not to get used to it Katie had never slept in such luxurious surroundings except when she'd cared for her previous employer Lana Fitzpatrick during her final cancer-stricken weeks.
Lana had been odd, but so obscenely wealthy that no one, cared. Katie had originally cleaned Lana's house. When Lana's personal assistant had left abruptly, Lana had temporarily moved Katie into the position. Temporary turned to permanent, and Katie still had tender feelings for the woman. Lana had taught her much, and she still missed her. Lana had been responsible for opening new doors to Katie, and in a crazy way had looked out for Katie after her death.
Katie supposed her upbringing with her unconventional mother had prepared her for dealing with eccentric people. The problem with Katie's mother, however, had been that her eccentricity had caused a lot of trouble and heartache. Her mother had given birth to four children by four different fathers, and had lost custody of two of them due to her wacky ways. Katie still missed her sisters, but she knew they were in better homes.
She missed a lot of people, she told herself, shaking her head. But she didn't have time to wallow in it, she thought, sending up another silent thank-you to Lana. Whoever said the rich are different from the rest of us knew what they were talking about. In Philadelphia high society, it was a matter of pride to gain an employee as a result of the death -of a well-established family. Katie didn't understand it. She just knew that Ivan and Patricia considered her a small badge of honor because of her employment association with one of the long-time matrons of Philadelphia society, Lana Fitzpatrick.
Katie ran her fingers over the fine cotton blue sateen duvet on me cherry queen-sized bed in her temporary room and pushed gently on the firm mattress. The cherry dresser and wardrobe gleamed from the fervent attention of a house cleaner. The lush white carpet gently cushioned her feet as she walked across it to glance out the window to the Rasmussens’ meticulously manicured lawn. Her surroundings oozed comfort.
“Don't get used to it,” she whispered, and picked up a pad of paper. It was time to meet Wilhemina for tea. They'd met formally and Katie had gotten an earful about Wilhemina, but she'd never had the opportunity to just sit down and talk with her except for the time she'd gone to the grocery store and bought Popsicles when Wilhemina had the flu.
As soon as Katie entered the lady's parlor, Wilhemina immediately stood in gracious, but ridiculous splendor. She wore a chartreuse suit that appeared one size too small for Wilhemina's plump frame. Around her shoulders, she draped a fox boa, the animals connected mouth to tail. She capped off the ensemble with a black hat with silky fringe. The combination made Katie slightly nauseous, but she couldn't ignore the dejected vulnerability she sensed in Ivan's daughter. Something about Wilhemina evoked a feeling of protectiveness inside Katie that she usually reserved for her brother. Wilhemina knitted her fingers together uncertainly; her heavily made-up eyes darted away from Katie's gaze. “Hello, Katie. How do you do?”
Katie wondered why she felt ancient compared to Wilhemina when there was barely one year's difference between their ages. Unable to suppress a feeling of pity for Ivan's daughter, Katie crossed the room and shook Wilhemina's hand. “I'm fine, thank you. I'm glad I'm getting a chance to talk with you.”
Wilhemina gave an uncertain smile. “Shall we sit for some tea?”
“Great, thank you. I'll pour,” Katie said, pouring the tea from the sterling silver set and sinking onto the hard antique settee. Katie took a sip, then set down her cup. She opened her mouth to speak, but paused as she saw the most hideous creature on the planet enter the room.
“Chantal,” Wilhemina said in delight to the Canadian hairless cat. She patted the seat beside her. “Come join us.”
The only person in the household more attached to Chantal than Wilhemina was Ivan, and Katie knew Ivan's interest in the animal was purely financial. A rare breed, the cat was worth a fortune. Katie just didn't get it. The poor animal looked as if someone had taken a razor and shaved nearly every hair from its body. Unfortunately, Chantal's disposition didn't compensate for her appearance. The sight of the animal never failed to make her wince. She deliberately looked away.
“Wilhemina, have you been told about my assignment with you?”
Wilhemina bobbed her head, making the fringe on her hat dance. She absently stroked the cat. “Daddy said you're going to help me find a husband.”
Try to help you find a husband, Katie thought, finding the assignment more daunting with each passing moment.
Wilhemina bit her lip. “I haven't had very good luck with men or matchmakers. This is embarrassing to say, but we've tried just about everything. I've worked with three professional dating services and all of them eventually quit. I went out on a few first dates, but there were only two men I went out with more than once. We found out one of them was a cross-dresser, but the absolute worst was the man who was being paid to date me. I also tried an on-line dating service, but the most promising prospect was in a penitentiary. I got the impression he was a guard, but it turned out he was incarcerated because of an armed robbery charge. I'm sure he was innocent just like he told me, but Daddy refused to let me continue to correspond with him.”
Katie stifled a sigh. Wilhemina obviously didn't know that they were all innocent. “I know it's been difficult,” she said, not wanting to linger on the disaster zone of Wilhemina's courtships. If Katie dwelt on the subject too long, she would throw in the towel before she got started. “I thought it would be a good idea for me to learn more about your likes and dislikes and your hobbies. That way, maybe we could find the best possible match for you.”
Wilhemina gave her a blank look. “I don't really have a lot of hobbies. I took piano lessons, but I wasn't very good. When I took horseback riding lessons, I fell off a lot I like to volunteer.” She bit her lip and lowered her voi
ce. “I'm not pretty. Patricia mentioned plastic surgery.”
“No,” she said abruptly, her anger rushing to her head. She bit her lip to keep from calling Patricia a few choice names. “I think we need to focus on what kind of man you might like, and when you meet the right man, he will feel so lucky he'll have to pinch himself.”
Wilhemina's eyes softened. “Daddy said you're kind and sensible. I'll never forget the Popsicles you brought me when I was sick.” She paused and looked down. “I'm just not sure I can be very selective.”
Katie digested Wilhemina's response and felt her stomach twist. She couldn't recall meeting a woman with lower self-esteem than Ivan's daughter, unless she counted her mother. She'd gotten the Popsicle tip from her mom, who had always given Katie and her sisters the frozen treats when they'd had sore throats. Katie fought an overwhelming mix of emotions about her mother, about Wilhemina, about herself. Who was she to think she could find a good husband for Wilhemina when so many others had tried and failed?
Katie thought of the hundred thousand dollars and her brother. Jeremy had special needs and it was up to her and nobody else to make sure those needs were met. Katie knew she had to try. She positioned her pen over her notepad. “Lots of women have bad experiences with men. It's obvious that you just haven't met the right one yet. I would still like to know more about you. What do you like?”
“I like food,” Wilhemina confessed. “Too much.”
Katie smiled. “What foods do you like best?”
“Anything chocolate and any kind of pie. I love pie.” She slid her gaze away from Katie. “Patricia has made the cook swear not to prepare chocolate or pie while she and Daddy are gone.”
Katie stopped midmotion with her pen. Patricia's ancestors may have come over on the Mayflower, but Patricia was a five-star witch. Katie tapped her pen thoughtfully on the notepad. “At one time or another, most people struggle with their diet,” she said. “It's one of those goals people keep trying to regulate like exercise.”
