Home > The Billionaire's Housekeeper Mistress (At His Service #3)(12)

The Billionaire's Housekeeper Mistress (At His Service #3)(12)
Author: Emma Darcy

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.

CHAPTER FIVE

DAISY 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.

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