Integrity was a marvellous thing.
Especially in a woman.
Of course, he could be proved wrong, but right now he had Daisy Donahue locked into a relationship with him for the foreseeable future and he saw no darkness in that future with her.
Still smiling, he loaded the bottle of champagne and glasses into an ice bucket, grabbed the dish of strawberries, and carried the lot into the master suite. He had a few more hours with her before she’d have to go home to get ready for tomorrow’s interview. Ethan intended to make the most of them.
Daisy’s heart jumped at Ethan’s touch as he slid his arms around her waist. She hadn’t heard him come up behind her, the thick cream carpet muffling any sound of footsteps. He gently pulled her back against him, bending his head to brush her hair away from her ear with his cheek. ‘Happy with the view?’ he murmured, his warm breath tingling over her skin.
‘Yes. Who wouldn’t be?’ she answered, making a conscious effort to relax and be happy with what she did have of him.
‘You could move in tomorrow afternoon.’
So as to be ready for him tomorrow night…his convenient mistress.
Daisy clamped down on the bitter thought. She had nothing to be bitter about. Nothing!
‘I should be able to do that,’ she agreed. ‘I’ll have to square it with my parents first.’
‘Say the friend you spent the weekend with has asked you to share an apartment in the city. It’s the truth.’
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True enough, she thought, and the move made sense if she was offered the job at the publishing house. Her parents wouldn’t quibble over it. They were happy, making plans for their future, and would be happy for her to do whatever she wanted.
And she wanted him.
There was no denying that truth.
She wanted him for as long as she could have him.
On a fierce wave of determination and desire, Daisy wheeled around in his embrace, flung her arms around his neck, and kissed him in a savage need to put everything else aside, to generate once again the intense, allconsuming passion where nothing else mattered.
Seize the day…
She would face whatever tomorrow brought when tomorrow came.
CHAPTER TWELVE
TO DAISY’S astonishment, delight and immense relief, she was given the PR job at the end of the interview—no waiting to hear and no waiting to start work, either. Her new boss remarked that since Ethan Cartwright was prepared to release her from his project and he, himself, needed her services immediately to set up a publicity tour for a new author, he’d like her to begin tomorrow. Even better, the salary being offered was more than she had ever earned before.
It made her wonder if Ethan had exaggerated her worth. Certainly his personal recommendation had worked wonders. Of course, it all fitted nicely into his plan for her to move into his apartment today, but it would suit her, too, which was readily understandable to her parents—a simple case of picking up her independent life again since their financial problems had been resolved. She had already told them she’d seen an affordable place at Pyrmont at the weekend and intended to take it.
It was up to her now to make a success of this new career, get it solidly established so there wouldn’t be too big a hole in her world when her time with Ethan was over. Ever since she had lost her job with Lynda Twiggley, she had been inescapably dependent on him. The apartment was part of the deal, but at least he was no longer the only source of income for her. She would be able to strike out on her own whenever she had to. That was a good feeling.
There was more champagne that night to celebrate the beginning of her new career. Ethan was happy for her to be happy about it. Certainly he saw it as no threat to what he wanted with her. Even when she explained that a publicity tour would involve overnight trips to Melbourne and possibly other capital cities, he made no objection, seemingly taking it for granted she would not always be free when he was free.
He was definitely not a control freak.
And Daisy was hopelessly in love with him.
She looked forward to the evenings he spent with her during the week. Never on a Tuesday night because that was games night with his old friends, but most other days he dropped in at the apartment after work. They chatted over a relaxing drink, cooked dinner together, watched television, made love, after which he would always go home.
It made her wonder if that was some legal point with him—protection against any claim she might make on him in court when he wanted out of their relationship. She was living in his apartment, but they were not live-in lovers. They weren’t a couple in public, either. Although he invited her to Hunters Hill on weekends, it was only ever the two of them there—no parties. He didn’t take her out nor ask her to accompany him to any social events. Which all hammered home to Daisy that she was his private mistress and for anything more to develop between them was sheer pie in the sky.