Not the real reason.
She had to give Ethan credit for coming up with a plan to save her pride in that sense. Never mind her own personal pride. She might have to lick that wound for the rest of her life. Could she swallow the pain of being only considered mistress material for the rest of this year?
Just keep thinking of the advantages he had laid out, she savagely told herself.
They were very solid advantages. Apart from the lifting of the financial burden, there would be worry-free time for her to find her own feet again career-wise, forge a better future for herself. Besides, it certainly wasn’t a hardship to have Ethan Cartwright as her lover. All she had to do was not get too tangled up emotionally with him.
‘What haven’t I covered?’ he demanded, pushing for an answer to break the tense impasse between them, to get his teeth into whatever objection she might have. Ethan Cartwright was a winner.
Losing was only acceptable if he’d done everything in his power to win.
Daisy couldn’t help being impressed by this quality in him even as she bridled against being the target of this particular game…the prize…the reward. Those terms didn’t feel special right now.
‘I think you’ve covered everything admirably,’ she said, finally making the decision to accept his proposition. ‘I’ll pass on your offer of advice to my father as soon as I get home.’
He nodded, a look of mocking satisfaction on his face as though he had known all along she would fall in with his plan, but would have preferred a different surrender from her. ‘You have my telephone number. Call me and let me know if he agrees to the meeting so I can rearrange my schedule.’
She nodded, wishing she had refused him, sickened by his view of her—a woman who could be bought. Not in ordinary circumstances, she thought fiercely. This wasn’t primarily for herself. Her parents had always been good, hard-working people. They deserved a happy retirement. Ethan was holding out the power to give them that and she couldn’t turn away from it. There were worse things than suffering the heartburn of being his mistress for the rest of this year. Much worse.
She swallowed down the surge of bile which had erupted from her churning stomach and took a deep breath. ‘I’d like to leave now. If you’ll move aside from the doorway…’
His eyes narrowed suspiciously. He folded his arms across his chest in a pose of deliberate rebuttal to her request. ‘You haven’t given me your word that we have a deal, Daisy.’
The wish to give him a bit of heartburn made her say, ‘My father might not want your help. I’ll let you know.’
It was a way out, free and clear of Ethan Cartwright.
He stared at her, possibly suffering a moment of uncertainty.
She savagely hoped so.
It wasn’t fair that he had all the power and she had none, except for the desire she stirred in him, desire that would be thwarted if she didn’t play his game. He didn’t like that possibility. She could feel him seething over it and exulted in the little victory over his confidence.
The grim line of his mouth took on a sardonic twist. ‘Still the challenging little witch. Well, have it your way, Daisy. The deal is on the table. Take it or leave it. I won’t run after you.’
He unhitched himself from the doorway and moved aside, unfolding his arms to extend one in an invitation to take her leave.
The tension inside her was like a compressed spring, needing release. She wanted to bolt from the room. It took considerable willpower to walk at a normal pace, maintaining an air of dignity. His sexual magnetism made her insides quiver as she passed him. Her legs, however, did perform their function of holding her up and she was out of the cabana in just a few nervejangling moments and heading up to the house to collect her bag.
He didn’t call out to her.
She didn’t look back.
But she felt him watching her.
The nape of her neck tingled with heat.
Just as she reached the closest door into the house she heard the distinctive splash of someone diving into the pool. It emphatically reinforced Ethan’s statement that he wouldn’t run after her. She could leave his property without any fear of pursuit.
It probably should have given her a feeling of relief, but it didn’t.
The plain truth was it made her feel easily dispensable from his life.
And the bitter truth was…he wasn’t from hers.
CHAPTER NINE
FOR Daisy there was no escaping from the fact that if Ethan Cartwright could deliver his side of the deal, it would make a very positive difference to her entire family. Taking it meant she would have to act quickly on the offer for it to appear all above board. The most natural reaction from her was to look pleased, excited about the wonderful opportunity for her father to benefit from Ethan’s financial expertise.
She worked hard at giving precisely that impression when she arrived home, bubbling over with the news that her boss would make time on Monday morning to advise her father on where he might better place his superannuation funds. The look of hope that sprang into her father’s eyes relieved the tight band squeezing her heart. It was definitely worth being Ethan’s mistress to lift the depression that had sapped the happiness from her parents’ lives.
There was no pretence about their pleasure and excitement.
Daisy steeled herself to the sticking point and made the call.
The sound of Ethan’s deep, rich voice giving his name in response sent a shiver down her spine. The memory of how it had been in bed together was suddenly very sharp. She did want it again—wanted him. Too much. Which was where the hurt would come in. But she’d weather it somehow.
She took a deep breath and poured warmth into her voice. ‘Ethan, it’s Daisy. I want to thank you again for your offer, and Dad wants to thank you, too. I’m passing you over to him.’
Her father took the receiver and expressed his gratitude, as well as confirming he would keep the eleven o’clock meeting on Monday morning. Then apparently Ethan requested to speak to her again.
‘Yes?’ she asked somewhat breathlessly, her pulse quickening at the thought of him bringing up the relationship he expected to have with her.
‘Work on the games room—the shelves and bar—begins on Monday,’ he stated matter-of-factly. ‘I’ll be leaving early for work to make time for your father. I’ll need you here to let the tradesmen in. And supervise as usual. Can I count on you?’
‘Yes. No problem,’ she assured him. ‘I’ll keep checking what they’re doing against the plans Charlie Hollier drew up.’