Cowboy Seeks Perfect Wife

Sidonie frowned. Dance lessons? Maggie knew Sidonie’s feelings about teaching—that was what dancers did after they retired. Was Maggie pushing her toward a new career, too? “The closest dance studio is in Dallas, isn’t it?”

Maggie didn’t pursue the subject. “Where are you going to live until Rafe moves out? I’d offer to let you stay here, but we only have the two bedrooms, now that Rayburn’s turned one into a study.”

“I have a place to stay. Unfortunately I’ll have to share it with McMasters. It turns out he really does have a lease on the house, and Judge Longstreet says I can’t get out of it.”

Maggie shot her a dubious look. “Do you think he’ll go for a roommate?”

“Not willingly. That’s why I came to you. We have to figure out a way to make him go for it. You always were good at getting people to do what you wanted.”

Maggie grinned. “Don’t let Rayburn hear you say that—I’ve got him convinced he’s the boss.”

Crossing her heart, Sidonie grinned back. “My lips are sealed.”

Maggie’s brows drew together in fierce concentration. “There was something…I know! I saw it in the paper just this morning. He’s advertised for a live-in cook/housekeeper. But I’m pretty sure he means for the house he’s building. It won’t be finished for another month or so.” She rummaged around in a stack of magazines and pulled out the latest copy of the Cache Register, the town’s weekly newspaper.

Sidonie snatched it out of her hands. “Let me see that.” Turning to the classified ads at the back of the paper, she quickly ran her eye down the columns. “Aha! You’re right, Maggie. Here it is.” She scanned the ad. “This is perfect. I won’t even try to talk him into letting me stay. I’ll just apply for the job. I’d have to clean and cook for myself, anyway.”

“Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched, Sidonie. Every woman in town under eighty is going to apply for that job.”

“But I’ve got the inside track. My suitcase is already unpacked. And the ad does say to start in two months. I’ll just have to convince him he needs a housekeeper now.”

“Well, maybe that will work. I guess you can clean all right. But you can’t cook.”

“Yes, I can. Well, a few things. I’ll learn others, if I need to.”

“Are you sure it’ll be safe? Living with a man like that?” Maggie shivered, just like she’d done when they’d told ghost stories at slumber parties.

Sidonie suppressed an answering shiver. Rafe McMasters should not induce shivers in anyone, except maybe a clone of Cathy What’s-her-name. He certainly was not her type. Oh, if what the judge and Maggie said were true, he might have been at one time—she was as much a sucker for bad boys as any red-blooded American female. But a rancher in banker’s clothing? No way.

“A man like what? He might have been a troublemaker when he was younger, but he’s changed. Now he’s an upright, uptight solid citizen. And you know there is nothing stuffier than a reformed rogue.”

“Rafe McMasters?” Maggie’s face fell. “Say it isn’t so.”

“Can’t. The man’s a dull, stodgy businessman. And, as far as I could tell on our short acquaintance, he’s happy about it, to boot.”

After leaving her friend’s house, Sidonie swung by the vet’s to pick up Gypsy. Bathed and groomed, she still looked like a mutt. “Never mind. I love you, anyway.”

The telephone was ringing off the wall when she and Gypsy got home, and no one was there to answer it. Rafe must be giving her plenty of time to clear out. Sidonie hesitated only a second before picking up the receiver. It might be some poor woman looking for a job, one that had already been filled.

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.”

Chapter Three

“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 cowboy. He’d come to this very place to heal—first his body and later his heart. After he’d recovered, Buck Saddler had loaned him a stake, enough money for a new start in another place. Buck had been thrown from a horse and killed before Rafe could pay him back.

Rafe had decided that leasing Buck’s ranch house for twice the going rate would finally wipe out the old liability. Apparently his way wasn’t good enough for whatever fate had sent Buck’s daughter home. Helping Sidonie was going to be the interest on the debt

Rafe couldn’t turn Sidonie away from her own home, not after all Buck Saddler had done for him, not when she was hurting and looking for a safe place to curl up and lick her wounds. She needed time to figure out what she was going to do with the rest of her life. He’d been there. He knew what it was like to have the future you’d planned blow up in your face.

Rafe sat down at his desk, put his face in his hands and groaned. He’d always had a weak spot for strays and underdogs, but he’d never adopted a chorus girl before. With her flaming red hair, blue eyes and long, long legs, Sidonie was bound to cause trouble. And trouble was something he’d sworn he was going to stay away from the day he left Cache. With one notable exception—the night he’d first met Cornelius Fielding—he’d kept his vow.

And he was his own man, now. No one was going to mistake him for someone who could be bought this time around.

He leaned back and stared at the door, squaring his jaw. No redheaded, blue-eyed temptress was going to lead him around like a bull with a ring through his nose. The fact that his unwanted houseguest had wakened his long-dormant hormones was just bad timing. A few more weeks and he’d be engaged, and his hormones could rage all they wanted to. He could wait.

The cause of his dilemma strolled through his study door, a satisfied smile on her face. He couldn’t fault her for looking smug. He had met her less than twenty-four hours ago, and she’d gotten everything she’d wanted from him so far. That had to stop. If he didn’t let her know right now who was the boss of this outfit, no telling what she’d be up to next.

“Sit.” He nodded at the chair in front of his desk.

“Standing’s more comfortable. My knee.” She pointed to the brace on her left leg.

He cleared his throat and tried again. “Your duties are—

“Oh, I know. I cook your meals, clean the house…do your laundry. In a day or two I’ll know whether you wear boxers or briefs.” She winked at him, a slow, sexy wink, and his toes curled in his loafers.

He held up a hand. “Let me do this, all right? I’d like to feel like I’m the one in charge.” She shot him a surprised look, but she kept her mouth shut for a change. “I expect breakfast on the table at six, lunch at noon and dinner at six. I want real food, meat and potatoes. No quiche, no pasta and no fancy French sauces. Understand?”

She nodded. That worried look flashed across her face again. Damn. She probably didn’t even know how to cook something simple. On top of everything else, he was going to starve. He shifted his gaze away from Sidonie. He couldn’t look at her—if she batted those baby blues at him one more time, he’d be agreeing to sweep and dust and bring her breakfast in bed.

Staring out the window, he continued. “I’ll let you know if I’m not going to be here at mealtime. I’m stocking my ranch, so I’ll be doing a lot of traveling in the next few months—visiting ranches with breeding stock, going to cattle auctions here and in the neighboring counties. We probably won’t see that much of each other.” He hoped.

When he forced himself to meet her gaze, he caught her grinning at him. She sobered immediately and nodded. “Is that all?”

“No. When I’m away, you’ll be responsible for feeding and watering the stock on this place. Right now that’s only my horse and one Beefmaster steer, but there’s more on the way. The breeding stock I buy will have to stay here until my barn and corrals are finished. Can you handle it?”

“Sure.” She frowned. “I’ve heard of Longhorns and Shorthorns, Angus and Herefords, but what’s a Beefmaster?”

“Another breed of cattle. Tom Lasater developed it—breeding for six essential traits.”

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