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“About marriage?” Not always. But the few illusions he’d held had been shattered. “Can you blame me?”
“You can’t think of any positive examples?”
“Like my sister? She’s twenty-seven and going through her second divorce, and this one is more gruesome and costly than the first. My best friend and college roommate, Griffin Lahey? His wife of three years just walked out, dumped him, ripped apart their future, and took away their son. For the final knife in his heart, she’s suing for half of his estate because she met an artist who she fancies and wants to move to Paris with him. Noah’s parents live on separate continents. My grandmother had to be coaxed into attending my grandfather’s funeral. I’m told she was drunk at the time, and not from grief. On the morning he was to be buried, legend has it that she knocked back an entire bottle of champagne…from the private reserve he had saved for special occasions. So, no, I’m not anxious to stick my neck in the matrimonial noose.”
“You asked why you should trust me. You shouldn’t. You have no reason to, yet. I could give you references from satisfied customers. I could reassure you that I’ve signed a nondisclosure. Or that Celeste Fallon believes in me. But none of that means anything. You need results. If the potential women I’ve matched you with don’t suit your needs, I’ll give you another five. Or fire me and I’ll refund your mother’s fee.”
“Fee?” He narrowed his eyes. “How much do you charge?”
“I’m expensive, Mr. Sterling.”
“Ten thousand dollars? Twenty?” When she didn’t react, he tried again. “More than that?”
“A hundred thousand.”
“Shit.” People were willing to pay a hundred grand to meet someone? If it worked out, he’d have the honor of shelling out thousands more for baubles to go along with it? Then, when the shine wore off, she’d keep them and half his fortune?
“I’m worth every penny.”
“That’s pretty confident.”
“I am.” She folded her arms across her chest. “I work hard to ensure I satisfy my clients.”
He glanced at the top folder as if it were rabid. “How did you choose these particular women?”
“In normal circumstances, I meet with a gentleman so I can get a sense about him. Then he fills in a questionnaire. It’s rather detailed. Fourteen pages of likes, dislikes, things that worked in previous relationships. Things that didn’t.”
“Go on.”
“Expectations around traditions are important as are roles in the relationship. To some, religion is important. I find out if he wants children. If so, how many? Will he want them raised in a particular religion? Where does he plan to live? In the US or abroad? Will the children attend private school? Boarding school? Will a nanny be hired? A housekeeper? After I’ve reviewed that, I have a second meeting with him for further clarification.”
“And they need you for this?”
“Most of the men I work with don’t have the opportunity to meet women they might be serious about marrying. They’ve often focused their attention on their careers or education. Some of them are famous, but they don’t want to settle down with a woman they’ve met on the road or someone who’s been part of their fan club.”
“And where do you find the women who are anxious to throw themselves at the feet of these rich men?”
“I belong to a number of organizations, and I’m active in Houston’s art and business communities. It may surprise you, but I’m often invited to high-society events. I’ve seen you at a few.”
Rafe regarded her again. “We haven’t met.” He would have remembered. Her eyes, her voice, the sweet curve of her hips, the way her legs went on forever in those shoes. Yeah. He would have remembered.
“No. I spend most of my time talking with women. Part of my value is that I’ve met all the candidates, interviewed them, watched them interact at social events.” She nudged a folder toward him. “Try me.”
“Have a seat.” Rafe wondered at his sudden offer of hospitality. He didn’t need Hope and her lilac-and-silk scent in his office while he looked through the files.
