The Billionaire's Housekeeper Mistress(12)

The fight in her eyes wavered into a sea of vulnerable uncertainty—the need for no break in her money chain warring with a mountain of doubts about what she might be getting into by putting herself in his power. Her throat moved convulsively. She was swallowing hard. And blinking hard.

‘Are you serious?’ she asked huskily.

‘Yes. I’m sorry for causing you so much distress,’ he said quietly, realising she was desperately trying to stem a gush of tears. ‘The least I can do is tide you over until you find better ground for yourself.’

She bit her lips. Her eyelashes swept down. She lowered her head. Her hand dropped from her hip and fretted at the pill-box hat she was holding in her other hand. ‘It might be months before I can find another job,’ she mumbled anxiously.

‘I expect the renovations will go on for months. It’s a messy business. It will be good to have someone on site, checking up on everything. Even the most reputable builders need a critical eye on them to get it all right and clean up after themselves. In effect, you’d be my PA for a special project. Okay?’

The eyelashes slowly fluttered up again. He had the weird sense of his heart turning over as she looked earnestly at him. ‘You’re really serious about this? You’ll pay me as much as Lynda Twiggley did?’

Down to the bartering line again, he thought with his usual cynicism, but if that’s what it took to get this woman he’d do it. He reached for his wallet. ‘I’ll give you an advance on your salary to seal the deal.’

She stared at his bulging wallet as he opened it—the hook that never failed to work.

‘How much were you being paid? A couple of thousand a week?’ He riffled through the notes, prepared to give her any sum she nominated. It was irrelevant to him. He’d just won two million dollars in prize money on Midas Magic.

She shook her head.

‘More? Less?’ he prompted.

Her gaze lifted, meeting his with steely pride. ‘I don’t take money I haven’t earned, Mr Cartwright. My salary was fifteen hundred dollars a week before tax. If you’re satisfied with what I can do for you after the first week of being your on-site PA, I’d appreciate it if you’d pay me then.’#p#分页标题#e#

‘Fine!’ he agreed, barely hiding the jolt of surprise at her refusal to grab the money.

Honesty…fair play…Daisy Donahue was exhibiting a fine sense of both, making him feel slightly uncomfortable about having his own secret agenda.

‘Where is this property?’ she asked.

‘Hunters Hill.’

She pressed him for more details, weighing up the information he gave, assuring herself there was a genuine job to be done. Once they’d settled on a meeting at the house at eight o’clock on Monday morning of the next week, she took her leave of him, very firmly, and Ethan let her go, watching the seductive swish of her bottom, content with the thought he’d be seeing a lot more of Daisy Donahue in the very near future.

He was looking forward to it.

In fact, he couldn’t remember looking forward to a meeting with a woman quite so much!





CHAPTER FOUR


HUNTERS HILL…the wealthiest suburb in Sydney, according to one of the Sunday newspapers. Daisy also recalled reading that a famous Australian actress had a home there, along with other celebrities. It was no surprise that Ethan Cartwright had chosen to buy a property in such a prestigious area. Birds of a feather definitely flocked together.

Why he had chosen to pursue some kind of acquaintance with her at the Magic Millions race-day was odd in the extreme. She could only think his ego had been piqued by her dismissive behaviour. They had nothing in common. Absolutely nothing. Except they were both now paying for the outcome of that encounter—he offering her a job out of guilt, she taking it because there was no other choice immediately available.

It was far from an ideal situation, and as she drove her little car towards the address he had given, she felt increasingly anxious about whether there would be anything of real value she could do for what he would be paying her. Builders were messy and often careless. She knew that from when her parents had renovated their home. Nevertheless, she suspected that for much of the time she’d simply be watching and twiddling her thumbs.

Fortunately Hunters Hill was not a long or difficult trip from her parents’ home in Ryde, much less hassle than going across the Harbour Bridge to Lynda Twiggley’s office at Woolloomooloo. At least she would save on petrol while she worked for Ethan Cartwright. Her Hyundai Getz was a very economical car, but the price of fuel still hurt.