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.’#p#分页标题#e#
Her big brown eyes widened in surprise. ‘You do?’
‘It’s relaxing, as well as being a very sensual pleasure.’
He deliberately delivered those words in a provocative drawl, revelling in the betraying heat that coloured her cheeks again.
‘A man of many talents,’ she said ironically, then with a brisk air strode out from behind the island bench and waved him to show her more. ‘What else do I need to see before you leave for work?’
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.’