The Billionaire's Housekeeper Mistress (5 page)

He felt no prick of conscience about taking advantage of the fact she was working for him. This was a stopgap position for her, not a serious career where business should not be mixed with pleasure. He dismissed that hurdle as of no account whatsoever, and she would surely come to realise that, too. This was a timeout situation—him from his normal social life, which had been soured by Serena, Daisy from the pressure of keeping a job she must have hated. He saw no reason why they shouldn’t enjoy the experience of each other, once he’d opened up the desire for it on her side.

They walked down the ballroom and turned into the area which had been remodelled into a modern kitchen and dining area, facing a lovely view of the harbour. ‘I designed the kitchen myself and had it put in first so I could move in here,’ he told her.

She gave him a startled look. ‘You’re living here already?’

‘Yes. I can’t be here during the day but I wanted to check daily progress.’

She heaved a sigh, her gaze fluttering nervously away from his as she muttered, ‘Then I’ll be seeing you every morning.’

It was a dead giveaway that his presence disturbed her. Ethan was certain that she was as sexually aware of him as he was of her. Why she felt she had to put barriers between them was a mystery, but he was confident of bringing them down sooner or later.

Either curiosity or unease drove her to check out the design of his kitchen, putting some physical distance between them as she busily opened cupboards and looked at everything. Ethan simply enjoyed watching her. She was not a little brown sparrow this morning, more like a fresh flower with the daisy print tunic and her hair pulled up in a pert ponytail. The tight blue jeans did splendid justice to her very cute and sexy derrière.

He wondered how old she was. Today she could pass as a teenager, but the mature experience in her eyes suggested late twenties. He needed to know more about her life. Clearly she had a close involvement with her family, but what about other relationships? Was there a man causing her hands-off attitude towards him—someone she cared about?

Ethan didn’t like that idea. He wanted to know and have this woman. Maybe it was the extreme contrast to Serena that struck deep chords in him, the contrast to all the simpering socialites who sought his attention. He felt newly invigorated with Daisy Donahue and he was in absolutely no doubt he sparked some very lively feelings in her, too.

So if the connection went both ways—which it surely did—she couldn’t be strongly attached to someone else. Possibly she was struggling with the newness of the whole situation between them, not wanting to risk losing this job. Whatever…he had to persuade her to stop fighting it, go with it, see how far it went, how good it might be. She was so excitingly different from the women he’d known, he was determined on exploring the difference.

‘This kitchen would meet the needs of a master chef,’ she remarked in some awe.

He smiled. ‘I enjoy cooking.’

Her big brown eyes widened in surprise. ‘You do?’

‘It’s relaxing, as well as being a very sensual pleasure.’

He deliberately delivered those words in a provocative drawl, revelling in the betraying heat that coloured her cheeks again.

‘A man of many talents,’ she said ironically, then with a brisk air strode out from behind the island bench and waved him to show her more. ‘What else do I need to see before you leave for work?’

She wanted him gone.

But Daisy Donahue would have to face him—deal with him—day after day.

Ethan was content with that situation.

No matter what she did, the attraction would not go away.

It would keep simmering until flashpoint was reached.

He pointed to the room beyond the dining area. ‘That will be my home office. I’ve left a set of Charlie’s plans for all the renovations on the desk in there so you can see what is to be done. Also house keys so you can let yourself in and lock up before you leave. The utility room is between the office and the games room. A powder room is located under the staircase. Bedrooms, dressing rooms and bathrooms are upstairs. You can check them out at your leisure. The major work at the moment is being done outside.’

The next half an hour was spent escorting her around the grounds where a swimming pool was replacing the croquet lawn and the old lawn tennis court on the lower terrace was being given an all-weather surface which didn’t require constant maintenance. The old carriage
house on one side of the pool area was being updated to a double garage with a storeroom at the back of it, and what used to be the staff quarters on the other side was being transformed into a pool cabana/guest apartment with a barbecue area. He introduced Daisy to all the tradesmen as the on-site manager, giving her the authority to make decisions or refer them to him.

‘As you can see, there’s a lot going on. Should keep you occupied for months,’ he remarked with considerable satisfaction as they strolled back to the house. ‘It will be good having you here, overseeing the work.’

She frowned. ‘Shouldn’t your architect be supervising all this?’

‘Oh, Charlie pops in when he can. He does have other projects on the go and can’t give this place his exclusive attention. But grill him on anything you feel you need to know when he visits this morning. Okay?’

‘Okay.’ She slanted him a measuring look. ‘You’re trusting me with a big responsibility and you hardly know me.’

‘You’re the responsible type. I have no doubt you’re up to the job,’ he blithely replied.

The look became more probing. ‘What makes you think I’m the responsible type?’

‘I observed you working for Lynda Twiggley, taking responsibility to a slavish degree.’

She grimaced. ‘I shouldn’t have been indiscreet.’

‘My fault. I drove you to it. Apart from that, you’ve taken on the responsibility of servicing your parents’ debt,’ he reminded her admiringly. ‘That tells me you can be counted on to rise to any crisis and deal with it as best you can.’

‘Oh!’

The enchanting flush rose in her cheeks again. He couldn’t resist brushing the soft warm skin with his fingertips, pretending it was a farewell gesture and a salute of respect. ‘Got to go. You’ll be fine, Daisy. Don’t worry. Just do what you think should be done.’

He took his leave before he was tempted into some extreme indiscretion himself. Slowly, slowly, was the best plan of action with Daisy Donahue, he told himself as he climbed into his BMW. But he couldn’t stop himself from driving off with an exhilarating burst of speed.

She was in his house.

Within reach.

Whenever he chose to push the connection.

Maybe she would disappoint him in the end, turn into another princess once she gave in to what he wanted, capitalising on the sexual power a woman could always wield. Whether she did or not was irrelevant right now. She was throwing out a challenge which was totally irresistible and Ethan was not about to be deterred from winning it.

D
AISY
watched Ethan Cartwright drive away with very mixed feelings. Not only was he a sexy devil, she was actually beginning to like him, which was even more unsettling. This situation would be much easier if she could hang onto her former judgement that he was a spoilt, self-centred, arrogant egomaniac who had so much obscene wealth he didn’t know or care how ordinary people lived.

All of which was probably still true. It shouldn’t make any difference that he was into games and liked doing his own cooking and seemed to admire her for coping with her parents’ financial difficulties.
Unlike
her ex-boyfriend who’d thought she was completely off her brain for giving up the city lifestyle that matched his and moving out to Ryde which was totally inconvenient for dating.

She’d been a blind fool to think herself in love with Carl Jamieson. When their relationship had involved easily arranged fun times, he’d been an absolute charmer, but he’d had neither any empathy nor patience with her decision to help her parents keep their home. All he’d cared about had been the inconvenience to him
and the restrictions it would place on their sex life. He’d only
loved
her because she’d fitted in with
his
needs, and when that wasn’t going to happen all the time, it was ‘Goodbye, Daisy’.

She could see their relationship more clearly now. At the beginning she’d been enormously flattered by Carl’s interest in her—a handsome,
with-it
guy, forging a successful career in computer technology. What did he want with an ordinary girl like her? She was reasonably attractive, reasonably intelligent, a capable kind of person, but nothing special. But that, of course, had made her the perfect choice for Carl—someone eager to fall in with whatever he wanted, someone who didn’t outshine or compete with him, who thought he was wonderful…until he showed that he wasn’t.

He’d wanted an easy, uncomplicated partner who would always put him first, and she had, oh, so willingly done that until her parents’ problems had rearranged her priorities and proved to her beyond any doubt that Carl was not the kind of man to be counted on in a crisis and definitely not someone she would want to marry. Even so, the hurt and disillusionment of the break-up had lingered on, making her disinterested in men in general.

Especially handsome men who always put what they wanted above every other consideration.

It certainly wouldn’t be good for her to get interested in Ethan Cartwright, she fiercely told herself. Nevertheless, he had shown enough concern for her crisis to give her this job, which gave some credit to his character. On the other hand, he could well afford it, so maybe not too much credit. Paying her salary was probably only a drop in the bucket to him, totally negligible. However, her own pride insisted she earn it as best she
could and it was about time she set about doing something active instead of churning over feelings that had nothing to do with work.

Anxious to be in hearing distance when the chandelier people and the architect called at the house, she remained inside, taking up Ethan Cartwright’s invitation to check out the rest of the rooms. He’d set up a computer work station in his office. The utility room was already furnished with a washing machine and clothes dryer, ready for his use. She noticed there was a handy chute in one corner for dirty clothes to be dropped down from upstairs. Very convenient. The powder room under the staircase was positively luxurious—mostly gleaming white with artistic touches of black and silver.

The bedrooms upstairs were huge compared to most modern standards, all of them with built-in cupboards and en suite bathrooms. The master suite, which was the only one furnished and obviously being used, was enormous. Not only did it have its own private bathroom with a jacuzzi and a shower big enough for two, but a large dressing room, as well.

Daisy could hardly believe there was nothing out of place in any of these rooms. No towels left on the floor, no toiletries sprawled over the vanity bench in the bathroom where she could still smell the lingering scent of his aftershave cologne, which undoubtedly occupied a shelf in the mirrored cupboard above the vanity bench. She didn’t look for it, uneasy enough about this much intrusion of privacy.

It felt weirdly intimate just staring at the colour coordinated rows of clothes in his dressing room, with the matching shoes precisely lined up in specially made
racks below them. It had surprised her that his bed had been made, not left in disarray, but all this…was Ethan Cartwright obsessively neat or did he simply like everything in order?

Daisy shook her head in sheer bemusement. She’d never known a man who wasn’t messy—her brothers, her father, past boyfriends, Carl in particular, stepping out of their clothes, leaving them on the floor, piling dirty dishes in the sink, shoes being dropped wherever they took them off. They didn’t actually expect a woman to clean up after them. Mess didn’t seem to bother them. She wondered why Ethan Cartwright was different.

Even the kitchen had been absolutely pristine, though he must have made himself some breakfast since he was living here. All the stainless-steel appliances had been gleaming and there hadn’t been so much as a wipe smear on the black granite bench tops. Curiosity drove her downstairs to check his pantry. Sure enough the shelves were packed in precise order, sauces and spices lined up for easy access, other staples grouped together. It was certainly the most efficient way to organise a kitchen. Maybe he was a genius at time and motion.

Daisy couldn’t help being impressed by this aspect of his character. She was a bit of a neat freak herself, liking to know where everything was so she didn’t get frustrated hunting for mislaid items, wasting time that wouldn’t need to be wasted if a bit more care was taken in the first place. But maybe he was a control freak, which wouldn’t be easy to live with. She had to stop thinking things that added to an attraction that was already too disturbingly strong.

The doorbell was a welcome distraction.

It was the architect.

‘Hi! I’m Charlie Hollier and I presume you’re Daisy Donahue,’ he rattled out with a broad smile. ‘Ethan called me and said you’d be here.’

‘Right!’ She smiled back. He was short and stocky, not much taller than her, with a rather homely face and friendly blue eyes twinkling at her as though he was happy to make her acquaintance. The fact that he was wearing blue jeans and a blue-and-white checked sports shirt also made Daisy feel immediately relaxed with him.

‘He mentioned you suggested a bar in the games room. Good idea! Should have thought of it myself. We won’t have to wait until the end of a game to go and get a drink from the kitchen.’

‘You’re one of his Tuesday group?’

He nodded. ‘Always a great night. Let’s go and have a look where best to put it.’

They walked inside to survey the situation. Daisy could not contain her curiosity. ‘How many of you come to play?’

‘Well, there’s the old solid core from Riverview. Ethan and Mickey started it amongst the boarders in our class when we were at school together. A bit of competitive fun when we weren’t at sport or study. That’s three regulars plus Mickey when he’s in town, and other friends we’ve made since then. Usually we have eight people turn up, sometimes more.’

Riverview…it was one of the big private schools at Hunters Hill, sited just across the Lane Cove River from this house. Being a boarder probably meant each student had allotted spaces for his possessions and he
would certainly be disciplined into making his bed. If Ethan Cartwright had spent the six years of secondary school there, that could have become habitual, and it would be fairly natural for him to have a place for everything and everything kept in its place—nothing too odd about it.

Daisy was bursting to ask more questions about Ethan Cartwright’s personal life, but reined in what could be seen as too much interest from a mere employee.

The architect decided on a corner bar next to the wall that backed onto the utility room—easy to run plumbing for a sink through from there. He would amend the plans and give a new set to Daisy so she could keep an eye on everything and stop mistakes from being made. ‘I’m delighted Ethan has found someone to be on the spot all the time,’ he added enthusiastically. ‘You’d be surprised how often things have to be fixed because they weren’t done right in the first place.’

Daisy was relieved to hear this. It made her feel she could be of real value here, earning her salary.

‘In fact, I’d appreciate it—Ethan would, too—if you’d ensure that the men laying the slate around the pool today get the mix right,’ Charlie ran on as they strolled out to the back of the house where the work was going on. ‘Quite a lot of the slate will be charcoal-grey without the blue-green streaks in it. Sometimes they just reach for the next piece of slate in the pile and you end up with a square metre of all grey instead of splashes of colour here and there.’

‘Okay. I’ll keep an eye on that,’ Daisy promised, feeling better and better about the job.

They toured the whole site together with Charlie checking on progress, Daisy listening to how he wanted
everything to be. ‘It seems a bit weird to me that all this is just for one person,’ she couldn’t help commenting as they returned to the house.

‘Actually Ethan was planning to get married when he bought the place,’ Charlie tossed off casually. ‘Changed his mind, thank God!’

She shot him a quizzical look. ‘You didn’t like the woman?’

He grimaced. ‘A bit too much into being the lady of the manor for my liking. But I’m glad Ethan decided to keep the manor anyway. It’s going to be fantastic when it’s all finished.’

‘It certainly is,’ she agreed, terribly tempted to pump more out of Charlie about
the woman
, but that was none of her business and it should remain none of her business.

Nevertheless, the phrase—lady of the manor—conjured up someone stunningly beautiful with all the airs and graces learnt from an exclusive finishing school where manners were polished and deportment and elocution were perfected. No doubt she had been trained to be the wife of a billionaire, knowing how to hostess every social event and look the part with elegant ease. Ethan Cartwright would naturally choose to marry a woman like that. She wondered what had happened to change his mind about the one he had chosen.

The lighting people arrived soon after the architect had left. As she watched the chandelier being carefully lowered onto the canvas laid out on the floor, it was impossible not to feel a pang of regret at its removal even though it wouldn’t suit the lifestyle Ethan planned for himself. Perhaps the lady of the manor had wanted to keep the grandeur of the old house and they’d clashed on
that point, realising they’d envisaged different futures together.

Whatever…it was none of her business.

She had a job to do and she would do it to the best of her ability.

Ethan was frustrated. Almost three weeks had passed and he was getting nowhere with Daisy Donahue. What he needed was a good block of time with her—enough time to get past the business of the day and onto more promising ground.

She was gone when he arrived home after work, always leaving him a note on what had been accomplished during the day, informing him of any snags to the flow of progress and how and when they would be corrected. Each morning she arrived all fresh and perky at eight o’clock, provoking an instant rush of sexual excitement, but no matter how long he delayed his departure, she would not be diverted from talk about the job. It was as though she was obsessed with it, not the least bit interested in him as a man, quickly brushing past every attempt he made at a more personal connection.

Nevertheless, the interest was there. He felt it in the tense way she deliberately kept a physical distance between them. He saw it in an occasional flash of her eyes before her gaze quickly slid away from his. He actually sensed her inward battle to suppress it whenever she was in his company.

It was obvious that she needed to feel secure in the position of his on-site project manager, continually affirming that her salary was being earned. Having a regular income was a big issue with her and she was
probably determined not to risk losing it by indulging an attraction that could rock her boat.

I don’t gamble
.

Somehow that steely will had to be broken.

Or at least bent.

His
way.

Daisy always rang the doorbell when she arrived at the Hunters Hill mansion each morning. Although she had a set of house keys and could have let herself in, the solid common sense of keeping everything formal between her and Ethan Cartwright stopped her from taking any kind of familiar freedom on his territory when he was at home.

He’d greeted her at the door one morning wearing only a short black silk wrap-around robe. Even though he had been decently covered, the deep V of bared chest with the sprinkle of black, curly hair and the powerful muscularity of his long legs had messed with her head for the rest of the day. No way did she want to catch him by surprise in any state of undress. The man oozed masculine sexuality. The more she saw of him, the more he rattled all her female hormones.

Even when she’d believed herself in love with Carl, he hadn’t affected her like this—such a strong physical tug that inspired lustful thoughts. Sex with Carl had been more a natural progression of romance, not some primitive form of sheer wantonness that kept pleading for connection, eroding the common sense she had to hang onto.

She
knew
Ethan Cartwright was too much of a high flyer to ever consider her as a possible wife. She wasn’t beautiful. She had no outstanding talent to lift her above
her very ordinary background. Her circumstances were such that she was no match for him on any level, and no match meant no serious relationship.

Playing with her…that was something altogether different. She strongly suspected he enjoyed doing that already and wanted to push it further, but since Daisy couldn’t see herself becoming
the main event
in his life, pride wouldn’t allow her to fall into the role of a bit on the side, not even for the satisfaction of knowing what it would be like to have an intimate connection with him.