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Rags To Riches: At His Bidding: A Home for Nobody's Princess / The Rancher's Housekeeper / Prince Daddy & the Nanny
Rags To Riches: At His Bidding: A Home for Nobody's Princess / The Rancher's Housekeeper / Prince Daddy & the Nanny
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Rags To Riches: At His Bidding: A Home for Nobody's Princess / The Rancher's Housekeeper / Prince Daddy & the Nanny

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Benjamin shrugged and walked closer. He lifted his hand to the sweet skin of the baby’s chubby arm. “Hey, Princess, sooner or later, you’ll realize that I’m gonna be around a long time. I can just tell you’re gonna give me hell till you figure that out.”

Emma frowned, but she didn’t cry. She shot him another hard look and stared at his hat.

“Does this bother you?” he asked, removing the hat from his head and extending the Stetson toward her. He thought about the sweet nanny he’d hired. At first sight of the woman, Benjamin had sensed a tender heart. “Coco said it might.”

Emma stared at the hat then at him and for one sliver of a second, he saw a softening in those intense blue eyes of his daughter.

The front door opened and Coco’s footsteps sounded in the foyer. He knew her step already. Benjamin automatically turned and Boomer limped to greet her. “Hey, boy,” he heard her say to the dog. Seconds later, she appeared, breathless, clearly a little concerned. “How was she?”

“Ah!” Emma said.

“She’s fine as long as I jump up and down,” Sarah said in a grumpy voice as Emma stretched her hands toward Coco. “Did you take care of your business?”

Coco’s gaze darkened, taking Emma into her arms. “Mostly, but I—uh—I’d appreciate it if I could maybe talk to you sometime soon,” she said to Benjamin.

Surprised, he shrugged. “No problem. Just let me know when. I’m in the office this afternoon and I have a cattlemen’s meeting tonight.”

Coco stared at him for a moment. “So when is a good time?”

He got an odd feeling in his gut at the expression on her face. He hoped this didn’t mean trouble. Benjamin didn’t need one more iota of trouble in his life. And he sure as hell didn’t need trouble from his daughter’s nanny. He’d hired the woman to alleviate his problems, not exacerbate them.

“I can see you up until six today or after nine tonight,” he told her.

She took a deep breath. “After nine. Emma will be in bed by then.”

He nodded and placed his hat back on his head. “Nine o’clock. Come to my office.”

“Can we, uh, meet in the den?” she asked, surprising him with the request.

He shrugged. “Okay. See you at nine. I’ve got work to do,” he said and walked away.

* * *

That night, just before 9:00 p.m., Emma fell asleep with no struggle. Coco set the baby on her back in her crib. Emma was totally relaxed and Coco had a feeling the baby might sleep through the whole night. She quietly walked from the room and left the door open just a sliver. She had a monitor, but Coco liked the idea of having more than one modality to hear Emma if she cried.

Now she was second-guessing her decision to talk with Benjamin. She’d almost hoped Emma would take a long time to get to sleep, so she wouldn’t be able to meet with him. Her stomach knotted with nerves. Benjamin was a tough man. She just hoped he would be on her side.

Chapter Two (#ulink_313fb270-694c-5b05-b146-3a2d41384fc3)

Coco hesitated at the entry to the den. Now she wondered why she’d chosen it with its brown leather furniture and masculine tan, rust and brown palette. Maybe the office would have been better.

Suddenly, Benjamin stood in front of her. Her heart stopped.

“You look like you need a drink,” he said.

She shook her head. “No. I’m fine.”

“Hmm,” he said doubtfully. “Come on in.”

She followed him into the den and gingerly sat across from him on the sofa. He’d sat in the well-worn leather chair. He looked at her expectantly and her throat went dry.

She opened her mouth and a croaking sound came out.

He set his shot glass next to her on the couch. “You need a swallow of something. May as well be some good whiskey.”

She took a sip of the alcohol. It burned all the way down.

“Another,” he said.

She hesitated, but his nod encouraged her and she took a second sip. “Enough,” she said and gave the glass back to him. “I need your help.”

He took a swallow from the squat glass he’d shared with her. “I figured that. What’s the problem?”

“I’m not sure. These men have been trying to see me.”

“Men?” he repeated, a shot of displeasure rising through him.

“They’ve already come to the house twice and—”

“Which house?” he asked, sitting up in his chair.

“This house,” she said. “Your house.”

“Why in hell are they coming here?” he asked. “And why haven’t any of my staff seen them?”

“They’re here to see me.” She pulled a card from her purse and handed it to them. “I have no idea who the House of Devereaux is.” She took a quick, desperate breath and pushed her brown hair nervously behind her ear. “As you know, my mother died a few months ago. She didn’t have much money at the end.” Coco bit her lip. “Bill collectors started coming around. These men reminded me of them.”

Benjamin frowned and set down his drink. He studied the card. “Did you cosign any of her loans?”

She shook her head.

“I’ll call my brother—he’s an attorney—and see if he knows anything about this House of Devereaux. In the meantime, if those guys show up, I want you to call my cell right away.”

She looked hesitant.

“Is there anything else I need to know?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No. I’m just not sure I should have dragged you into this.”

“These men came onto my property without an invitation. You are an important employee. That makes it my business.”

The vulnerability she showed grabbed at him, although he sure as hell wouldn’t admit it. Coco had a fresh-scrubbed face and slim body, making her look younger than her years. Sweet and innocent, probably hoping for a Prince Charming to sweep her off her feet. Not his type at all. Benjamin had usually gone for low-maintenance women who knew their way around a man and wouldn’t expect too much of him. Except for Brooke. He’d made a big mistake with Brooke.

“I need your word that you’ll call me if they come around again,” he insisted.

She sighed and nodded reluctantly. “I will, but I’m hoping I’ll fall off their radar.”

Benjamin had a feeling that her wish wouldn’t come true. “Just so we understand each other,” he said and stood. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

* * *

The next day as Coco dressed Emma, she pointed to the photograph of Benjamin she had placed on a dresser in the baby’s room. “Daddy,” Coco said. “That’s your daddy.”

The baby was cheerful and a little less clingy than usual. Coco was pleased with Emma’s progress and hoped there might be an opportunity for Emma and Benjamin to make a little peace.

The doorbell rang as she was feeding Coco her lunch.

Sarah entered the kitchen. “Two men are here to see you. Dever-something?” she said.

Coco’s stomach clenched. She wondered if she should send them away, but remembered her promise to Benjamin. She swallowed over the lump in her throat. “Tell them to wait in the front room, please,” she said and pulled out her cell phone. As soon as Sarah left, she punched Benjamin’s number on her cell phone.

“Benjamin,” he said in a curt voice.

“It’s me, Coco,” she said. “The men are here. They’re in the den.”

“Do you know what they want?” he asked.

“Not yet. I’ve been feeding Emma. I only called because you made me promise,” she said.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he said and hung up the phone.

Coco handed the feeding of Emma over to Sarah and made her way to the front room. The two men immediately stood. “Miss Jordan, thank you for seeing us. Again, I’m Paul Forno, and this is my colleague Gerald Shaw.”

Tense, Coco laced her fingers together in front of her. “If this is regarding my mother’s debt, I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

Mr. Forno’s face crinkled in confusion. “Your mother’s debt?” he echoed. “I wasn’t aware that Miss London had any debt issues. According to our information, she’s been well cared for, per her agreement with your father.”

“Miss London,” she echoed, not certain who was more confused—she or Mr. Forno. “That’s not my mother’s name. You must have the wrong person.”

Mr. Forno studied her. “You do know that you were adopted, don’t you?”

“Of course, but—” She broke off, struggling to keep her emotions under control as she tried to make sense of the men’s visit. “Is this about my birth mother? I tried to find her years ago, but I was told she didn’t want to meet me. Has she changed her mind?”

Mr. Forno exchanged a look with his associate. “Unfortunately—”

The front door opened and Benjamin stepped inside, his gaze sweeping the front room. “Problem?”

Coco immediately felt a sense of relief. “I think there’s a lot of confusion right now.”

Benjamin addressed the two men. “It shouldn’t take long to clear up any confusion given the fact that you’ve been bothering Miss Jordan. If you have a legitimate reason to see her, then spill it or leave.”

Mr. Forno cleared his throat. “This is a matter of a delicate nature. We, uh, prefer to speak to Miss Jordan privately.”

“That’s up to Miss Jordan,” Benjamin said.

“I’d like Mr. Garner to remain,” she said. “Whatever you say to me, you can say in front of him.”

Mr. Shaw sighed. “Then, sir, we must request that you sign a confidentiality agreement.”

“I’m not signing anything,” Benjamin said. “You’re in my house and you’re wasting my employee’s time and mine, too.”

Mr. Shaw looked nervous and perplexed. “Then I must beg of you to keep what we are about to tell you in the strictest confidence.”

Benjamin lifted one shoulder in halfhearted agreement. “Still waiting.”

Mr. Forno waved his hand. “Allow me to introduce ourselves, Mr. Garner. I am Paul Forno and this is my associate, Gerald Shaw, with the House of Devereaux. Perhaps we should sit down.”

Impatience simmering from Benjamin, he sat down. The others followed.

“As I said, we are representatives of the House of Devereaux,” the man began.

“What is that?” Benjamin asked.

Mr. Shaw blinked. “The royal House of Devereaux. The ruling family of the country of Chantaine.”

“Never heard of it,” Benjamin said.

Mr. Forno looked at Coco and she shrugged. “Sorry. Neither have I.”

“Oh, my,” Mr. Forno said. “Chantaine is a small, but beautiful island country off the coast of Italy. The Devereau family has ruled the country for centuries.”

“And what does this have to do with Coco?”

Mr. Forno sighed. “Your birth mother was Ava London. She had a long-term relationship with Prince Edward of Chantaine and you are—” He cleared his throat. “A product of that relationship.”

Coco frowned, blinking at the man’s announcement. Her birth mother? Her birth father? After all these years, she would learn who they were? She shook her head in amazement. “Are you saying that Ava London and Prince Edward are my biological parents?”

“Yes, they are,” he said.

She was so stunned she couldn’t comprehend it all. “My father is a prince?”

“Yes, he was,” Mr. Forno said.

“Was?” she echoed, her heart racing. “Oh, my goodness! Is he alive? Is my birth mother alive?”

“Unfortunately, no. His Royal Highness passed away several years ago, and his son, Stefan, has since ascended the throne. Your birth mother passed away just over a week ago,” he said.

“Oh,” she said, feeling a surge of sadness. Since her mother had died, she had felt so terribly alone. She’d had no close relatives, no siblings.

“What does this mean for Miss Jordan?” Benjamin asked.

“Well, the House of Devereaux wishes to extend an invitation for you to visit the country of Chantaine and also to meet the Devereaux family,” he said brightly.

“Visit Chantaine? But how?” Coco asked.

“The usual way these days,” Mr. Forno said, continuing to smile. “A transatlantic flight.”

Her mind whirling, she looked at Benjamin and she immediately knew she couldn’t go. He was counting on her. Emma was counting on her. She shook her head. “Oh, I couldn’t. I’ve just started working here and Emma needs me. Thank you for the invitation, though,” she said.