‘I’ve not had nearly enough of you, Daisy. Stay the night with me. Stay the weekend.’
An iron fist squeezed her heart. How soon would enough come? And how much of herself would she have given him by then? Having any kind of extended affair with him could only bring her heartache and mess up her life. However wonderful this felt with him right now, it was going to be bad for her in the end. Much worse than the break-up with Carl. She shouldn’t have let Ethan get to her, shouldn’t let it go any further.
‘I can’t,’ she blurted out, adding the first reason that made his invitation unacceptable. ‘I live with my parents, Ethan. I’m not as free as you are. They’d worry about me.’
He frowned. ‘Call them. Tell them you’ve been invited to have a weekend away.’
‘With whom? My billionaire boss?’ she mocked, the reality of the vast social gap between them finally smiting the treacherous desire he aroused in her. ‘It would upset them terribly, thinking their financial problem had led me into being seduced by a man who would only be using me for his pleasure.’
He looked affronted, then fiercely belligerent. ‘Don’t tell me you felt no pleasure with me, Daisy. It was mutual.’
‘Yes,’ she readily conceded. ‘And I thank you for it. But it can’t go on, Ethan.’
‘It’s not right to let your parents rule your life,’ he argued. ‘You’re twenty-seven, not a child.’
‘They don’t rule my life. They’d hate to even think they did. It’s my decision. I care about them and I’m not going to upset them. They’re going through a bad enough time as it is,’ she said vehemently, gathering the strength needed to disconnect from him and make the break that a solid block of down-to-earth sanity insisted she make.
Becoming heavily involved with Ethan Cartwright would not lead anywhere good for her. She didn’t believe the Cinderella story worked in today’s world. Like married like. He was only serious about getting her back into bed with him until he’d had enough of her.
She managed to summon up a crooked little smile and said, ‘You won the prize. Let’s leave it at that.’
Then she pushed herself away from him, resolutely determined on leaving the swimming pool, getting dressed and going home.
Tomorrow she would find another job.
Any job.
It was best if she never saw Ethan Cartwright again.
She couldn’t trust herself not to give in to him if she stayed working here and putting herself in that kind of constant emotional jeopardy would be hell.
CHAPTER EIGHT
ETHAN couldn’t believe it. He’d had Daisy Donahue precisely where he wanted her. She’d responded to him just as he’d imagined she would. The sex had been fantastic. Best ever. For her to reject it, reject him and all they could share together was a development he certainly hadn’t anticipated. It was enough to make a man tear his hair out in frustration.
She was up the steps and out of the swimming pool before his fighting spirit erupted through the shock of being told this was all he was going to have with her. No way was he going to accept that. He’d finally found a woman who met all the criteria that satisfied what he’d always been missing and he wasn’t about to let her walk away.
Which she was doing, her gorgeously perky bottom bouncing as she strode swiftly towards the cabana, stirring the caveman in him again. But this wasn’t the stone age. He couldn’t club her over the head and force her to stay with him. Somehow he had to challenge her decision, persuade her to change it. His mind attacked the problem from every angle as he left the pool and followed her to the cabana.
She lived with her parents.
He had to remove her from that situation so she didn’t have to consider their feelings about having a connection with him, set her up independently.
But then pride came into the equation.
Her parents were unlikely to accept her rent money if she wasn’t living with them and they needed it to keep the mortgage on their home running. Daisy wouldn’t leave them in need.
He could pay off the lot with barely a dent in his personal wealth, free them all from the financial bind they were in, but he suspected they would take serious umbrage at such an offer. He very much doubted that Daisy’s parents were people who would countenance the idea of him buying their daughter, not even to save themselves from serious debt, and Daisy herself wouldn’t accept money she hadn’t earned.
Money was at the heart of the barrier she was putting between them.
Because of it she was putting her own life on hold to help her parents.
But she did want him.
Impossible for her to have responded to him as she had with such passionate intensity if the attraction—the desire—didn’t run deep.
Money…sex…
His mouth twisted cynically as he picked up a towel from the pile laid out on the bench beside the cabana and tucked it around his waist. He hated choosing the bartering path with Daisy but she was leaving him no other option.
A nasty thought struck.
It was quite possible that her resistance—her rejection—had actually been a ploy to force his hand, induce him to offer his expertise to fix her parents’ financial problem. In fact, given the way women generally manipulated their sexual power, it was even probable.
He could do the fixing if her parents were prepared to gamble.
But he sure as hell was going to get his pound of flesh from Daisy for it!
Pumped up with ruthless purpose, Ethan entered the cabana, moved to the opened doorway to the bedroom and propped himself there, blocking the exit. Daisy had dressed so hastily there were wet patches on her T-shirt where she hadn’t dried herself properly. Her body was bent over, her fingers working fast on the laces of her shoes.
‘It’s not so late that your parents would be worrying about you, Daisy,’ he drawled. ‘There’s time for us to talk this situation over.’
She finished tying the laces and straightened up, her cheeks flushed, her hands clenching into determined fists at her sides, her eyes shooting unbreakable resolution at him.
‘I’m grateful for the stopgap work you’ve given me, Ethan, but I have to move on now,’ she stated, as though nothing he could say would make any difference. ‘I won’t come back. I’ll find some other way to manage. I’m sure Charlie Hollier would keep a more frequent check on the renovations if you asked him. Please…just let me go.’
‘Not until you let me have my say,’ he answered, adopting a tone of reason backed by rock-like determination to win what he wanted.