The Billionaire's Housekeeper Mistress

‘I’m not planning to sell.’

She looked at him in surprise.

His eyes bored in hers. ‘I intend to make this my

place.’ ‘It’s a big place for one person,’ she couldn’t help commenting.

‘I’m tired of living in an apartment. I want space.’

‘Well, you’ve certainly got it here,’ she said, barely stopping herself from rolling her eyes at the sheer extravagance of how much space he’d bought for himself.

His mouth quirked. ‘You don’t think I’ll use it all?’

Caution held her tongue again. ‘It’s not for me to say.’

Amusement danced in his eyes. He ushered her to double doors to the right of the staircase. ‘This was the drawing room. It will become my games room.’

‘Games?’ she queried, looking at the huge expanse of dark red carpet and the magnificent white fireplace on the far wall, in her mind’s eye seeing it furnished in the kind of graceful antiques people put in grand houses.

‘All sorts of board games, card games. I have a group of friends who get together to play on Tuesday nights. I’ve acquired a large collection of games over the years and I’m having shelves and cupboards built along the internal walls in here to house them.’

She shook her head, amazed that a man like him enjoyed such ordinary pastimes. It was what her family did when they got together, playing games around the kitchen table.

‘You don’t like the idea?’ he probed.

‘If no expense is to be spared on these renovations, I’d put in a bar as well,’ she suggested, a teasing grin breaking out on her face. ‘Gaming is thirsty work.’

It was his turn to look surprised. ‘You play, too?’

‘I’m the current family champion at Scrabble,’ she proudly declared. ‘And I’ve been known to clean them all up at poker.’

He laughed, and suddenly there was a connection sizzling between them that knocked every bit of common sense out of Daisy’s head. He didn’t seem quite so high and mighty, more human like her, and she wished she could join his gaming group on Tuesday nights.

He cocked his head assessingly. ‘I hadn’t thought of a bar in here, but it would be handy. And a pantry for nibbles. Speak to Charlie about it.’

‘Who’s Charlie?’

‘Charlie Hollier, my architect. He’ll be dropping by some time today. Tell him to add a bar and pantry to the plan for this room. It will save trips to the kitchen.’

Just like that, Daisy thought, remembering how obscenely wealthy he was and telling herself that he and his friends undoubtedly played high-stakes poker which she could never afford. Her family counted their wins in plastic chips, no money involved at all.

‘Now across the hall…’ he led the way, throwing open another set of double doors ‘…is what used to be the ballroom.’

Daisy goggled at the incredibly splendid, manytiered, crystal chandelier centred in the high ceiling above a massive room which obviously ran the whole length of the house.

‘That’s coming down today,’ Ethan informed her.

Daisy goggled at him. ‘You’re getting rid of it?’

‘I’m selling it. It’s far too valuable to toss out. I was told it was bought from the Paris Exhibition in 1879. Some specialist lighting people will remove it and I’d appreciate it if you ensure they have adequate covering on the floor when they take it down. I don’t want the polished floorboards damaged.’

‘No, of course not,’ she murmured, staring at the floor which gleamed invitingly for dancing feet. ‘You don’t intend to hold balls in here?’

He laughed. ‘I think that era is well and truly gone, Daisy. I’ll be putting a billiard table in this top half of the room with appropriate lighting above it. The bottom half of the room will become a home theatre—television, sound system, comfortable lounges.’

She sighed over the loss of the room’s original function. ‘It seems a shame. Though you’re right about more modern living. I guess the floor will still be used for dancing when you throw parties.’

‘Mmmh…you like dancing?’

‘I love dancing. My favourite show on television is one that features up-and-coming dancers competing against each other. It must have been marvellous, waltzing in here.’

The green eyes twinkled wicked temptation. ‘I could waltz you around now before the chandelier goes. You could close your eyes and pretend you’re back in Victorian times.’

Her blood instantly heated at the idea of him taking her into his arms, pressing her close to him, their thighs brushing seductively as he twirled her across the floor. This terrible attraction to Ethan Cartwright had to be stamped out, not fed. She’d been running off at the mouth instead of simply taking in instructions. That had to stop. She had to keep in her place and he had to keep in his or this job would go haywire before it had even started.

Ignoring the flush on her cheeks, she gave him a stern look designed to banish any dangerous familiarity springing up between them. ‘I don’t believe the master of the house ever danced with his staff,’ she stated emphatically. ‘And I think that’s a very good principle in general,’ she added for good measure.

Ethan couldn’t help grinning. Daisy Donahue was priceless. Here she was drawing battle lines, warning him they weren’t to be crossed, establishing herself as forbidden territory, shooting the heady spice of challenge straight into his brain. The anticipation that had been bubbling through him as he’d waited for her to arrive this morning was certainly not fizzling out. His delight in her kept escalating. Winning her over to what he wanted was going to be a glorious game.

‘I don’t think I’ll feel like master of the house until all the reconstruction is done,’ he said in mock seriousness, his mouth still twitching with a dancing inner joy as he gestured for her to continue accompanying him on a tour of the property.

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.’