Some Girls Do (3 page)

“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 voice. “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.”

“You don't have to,” Wilhemina said, her gaze taking in Katie's slim frame. “You're thin,” she said in a softly accusing tone.

“Size isn't everything,” Katie said, although her mother had repeatedly informed her that with men, size mattered. But that was a different matter. “What else do you like?”

“Animals. I like animals. I like music.” Wilhemina paused, then leaned forward as if sharing a secret. “Don't tell Patricia, but I love country music.”

Katie felt a sliver of amusement “I won't tell. If you could have any kind of man for a husband, what would he be like?”

Seeming to hold her breath, Wilhemina locked gazes with Katie, and Katie could practically see a cauldron of secret wishes bubbling inside Ivan's daughter. She flexed her pen in preparation for a lengthy list.

“I want a man who wants me so much he can't live without me,” Wilhemina said breathlessly.

Katie felt a lump in her throat at the fragility of Ivan's daughter. She hadn't expected their meeting to be so, well, emotional. Absently pushing her glasses up her nose, Katie tried to detach herself. It wasn't her job to get overly involved with Wilhemina. Her assignment was to find Wilhemina a husband. If fate was kind, she would accomplish her assignment and Wilhemina's husband would grow to love her.

“I understand that you've been invited to a cocktail party at the Rogers’ home on Saturday,” Katie ventured. “Have you thought about what you'd like to wear?”

Wilhemina shook her head, sending the fringe on her hat into a tizzy. “I usually just pick something out at the last minute. Like today, the suit is new, but the fox wrap belonged to my mother.”

No disrespect to Wilhemina's deceased mother, but the fox wrap should have been buried with her. Katie nodded, but kept her mouth shut.

“And the hat belonged to my third stepmother, Maria. She was a flamenco dancer,” Wilhemina said with a shy smile.

Katie nodded again. “I know you've had professional fashion consultations. Would you like to shop for something new to wear to the Rogers’ party?”

“That would be fun. You'll get something too, won't you?” Wilhemina asked.

Confused, Katie shook her head. “I really don't need anything new.”

“But you're going with me to the party, aren't you? Daddy said you would also be my companion.” Wilhemina scrutinized Katie's olive dress. “You can't wear anything like that to the Rogers’.”

Katie paused, stuck on the prospect of attending a high-society cocktail party. Fish out of water didn't begin to cover how she would feel. “I, uh, I had thought you would want to attend alone so you could mingle with the eligible men.”

Wilhemina shook her head. “The only reason the Rogers invited me is because they didn't know Daddy was going out of town.”

Katie swallowed a groan. “I really hadn't planned—I'm not sure I'm prepared to attend the Rogers’ cocktail party.”

“Well, maybe we can have makeovers together. That would be fun,” Wilhemina said, warming to the idea. “And I can lend you some of my accessories.”

Katie bit back a moan. “Oh, I couldn't let you do that,” she said for more than one reason. “Besides, we need to keep the focus on you since we're looking—”

“Excuse me,” a male voice said from behind her. “Am I interrupting?”

Katie immediately tensed. Michael Wingate.
Yes, you're interrupting,
she wanted to say, but restrained herself. She turned to see him stride into the room, his hand outstretched toward Wilhemina.

“Miss Rasmussen, I don't believe we've met. Michael Wingate of Wingate Securities at your service.”

Wilhemina's cheeks turned pink. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wingate. Please call me Wilhemina.”

“Wilhemina,” he said with a gentle nod of deference, then cast a brief, curious glance at Katie. “Miss Collins.”

Katie nodded, his curiosity making her uncomfortable. She noticed the perfect cut of his suit, perfect knot of his tie, and perfect confidence he oozed with every minute gesture. Her mother's voice whispered through her mind,
Now that's one man's trousers I wouldn't mind climbing inside.
The bawdy thought embarrassed her, and she snuffed out her mother's uncensored comments from her brain.

“Katie and I were just discussing the Rogers’ party on Saturday night, I thought it would be fun if Katie got a makeover and went with me,” Wilhemina said.

Katie felt Michael Wingate run his cool, dispassionate gaze over her from head to toe and knew she didn't measure up to whatever his standard was. Not that she gave a tinker's damn.

“Excellent idea, Wilhemina, both for security purposes and for your comfort. I'm certain Miss Collins would be delighted to get a makeover with you. She'll need different clothing for a party at the Rogers’.”

“Oh, and you'll be joining us, won't you?” Wilhemina asked.

Katie watched Michael's perfect composure slip a millimeter and felt an inordinate satisfaction. “Joining you for what?” he asked.