The Billionaire's Housekeeper Mistress

Put good money on a horse! Not in a million years! Daisy’s tongue lost its discipline. ‘Is that your best financial advice?’ she shot at him in fiery scorn for all he stood for.

He laughed, giving a breathtaking oomph to his sexual magnetism. ‘No, but it’s a good bet,’ he finally answered. ‘I bought him at the yearling sales this week, on excellent advice, and he has the bloodline and form to win the big race.’

Daisy recovered enough breath to coolly state, ‘I don’t gamble.’ She lied through her teeth as she added, ‘I wish you luck, Mr Cartwright,’ then turned her back on him to effect some fast distance from the troublesome encounter.

‘All of life is a gamble, Daisy Donahue,’ he floated after her.

Not for her it wasn’t, and no way was she going to acknowledge the comment by looking back at him.

They all had money to burn, these people. Having worked the past three months with Lynda Twiggley whose PR agency organised events for A-list socialites, Daisy was constantly amazed and scandalised by how much they spent on having a good time. The pre-Christmas parties had been unreal. The New Year’s revels, of course, had to be on a luxurious private yacht for the fireworks around Sydney Harbour to be viewed. Now anyone who was anyone was up on Queensland’s Gold Coast for the annual Magic Millions carnival—the first big horse-racing event on the calendar.

It had begun earlier this week with the yearling sales, the largest sale of thoroughbreds in Australia. No doubt Ethan Cartwright had paid an enormously extravagant amount for Midas Magic, and had been celebrating his successful bid ever since. There’d been a ball, a swag of cocktail parties, and today was the day to cap it all off, the third richest race day of the year with almost five million dollars in prize money. Daisy sourly hoped his horse would run last.

All of life should not be a gamble.

Some things should be secure. Like her parents’ home. If helping to make it secure meant staying in this rotten job, she would grit her teeth and do it, despite the severe heartburn it gave her.

Ethan had not been having a good time. He’d slipped away from the gaggle of women whose frivolous chatter bored him and then been cornered by Lynda Twiggley who was bent on getting him to handle her investments, which was even more boring and distasteful since this carnival was supposed to be fun, not work. The PR specialist had certainly not been using her expertise on him—far too irritatingly pushy—and her manner towards her assistant had bordered on contemptible.

Daisy Donahue…

Now there was a woman who did interest him—the little brown sparrow amongst all the glitzy parrots, playing the meek servant when there wasn’t a meek bone in her body. A pocket dynamo, blasting so much hostile energy at him, it had instantly sparked the urge to engage her in battle. Not that he could, given the unfair circumstances of him being a guest and her being a worker under the eyes of her disapproving employer.

I don’t gamble…

Containing herself in such a tight mentality, not running any risks whatsoever, probably had her exploding inside. Ethan found himself thinking he would enjoy liberating her, finding out what she would be like if all that burning passion was released. One thing was certain. Daisy Donahue did not have a frivolous personality. And she wasn’t boring, either, he added as he suffered Lynda Twiggley claiming his attention again.

‘As I was saying before Dee-Dee interrupted…’

Dee-Dee…what a silly name to give to a person who had so much innate dignity! It also showed a lack of respect for her, which had been obvious in how this unbelievably arrogant woman had dealt with Daisy. Ethan held the firm belief that everyone deserved to be treated with respect, regardless of their position in life. He wondered why Daisy put up with it, then realised that in these tough economic times, she was not about to risk being out of work.

He gave Lynda Twiggley five more minutes so she wouldn’t blame her PA for cutting her business short, then excused himself, saying, ‘I already have a very full client list, Lynda, but I’ll check if I can fit you in when I get back to my office.’ He nodded towards his best friend who was chatting up one of the top-line models. ‘Mickey Bourke told me we should talk to the jockey before the big race and it’s time I went and collected him.’

‘Oh!’ Her face fell in disappointment before she summoned up a big parting smile. ‘I’ll go straight away and place a bet on Midas Magic.’

He didn’t care if she did or not. He just wanted to get away from her. Mickey had talked him into this horse business, insisting he needed some outside interest to lighten up his life and get him into the social whirl again after his grim disillusionment with his ex-fiancée. A bit of fun, Mickey had argued, especially if Ethan was off women.

According to his friend, there was nothing better than the rush of excitement one felt when watching your horse win a big race. Ethan had yet to feel it. Though Mickey should know. His father was one of the most successful thoroughbred trainers in Australia.

Mickey had been born and bred to the horse business. Even at school he would organise sweeps for the Melbourne Cup—strictly against the rules but he always got away with it. He’d been the livewire in their class—bright, witty, charming—a golden boy with his sun-bleached streaky blond hair and sparkling blue eyes. A natural athlete, too, which was one thing they did have in common, along with their tall, powerful physiques.

Everyone liked Mickey. He was always amusing company. Why he’d chosen to attach himself to Ethan—the quiet, intense student, and his fiercest competitor on the playing fields—had seemed weirdly perverse of him until Mickey had explained.

‘No bullshit, okay? I’ll give it to you straight. In the quality stakes you’re a top-notch contender and I’m naturally drawn to quality. I enjoy the way you think and the way you do things. You could easily cut the rest of us down but you don’t. That makes you a great guy in my book.’

The straight face had then broken into a gleeful grin. ‘Besides, there are several big advantages in being your friend. First up you’re great camouflage. All the schoolmasters think the sun shines out of you, being such a star in class. If I stick with you, the respect they have for you rubs off on me and no one will suspect me of getting up to mischief. Besides which, you’re a whiz at numbers and percentages, working out the odds. I like that. I really do respect that. I figure you’re going to be a lot of use to me further down the track.’

It was his first demonstration of how smart Mickey was—smart in a way Ethan had not been familiar with, being the only child of dyed-in-the wool academics who did everything by the book, straight down the line. Ethan had instantly decided he could learn a lot from Mickey Bourke who was clearly a very shrewd operator.

‘And to me, the writing is already on the wall,’ Mickey had continued, adopting a mock-resigned air. ‘It’s in the way your mind works, Ethan. It homes in on what’s absolutely pertinent. You see the play. Your anticipation is incredible. So, regardless of how well I perform on the playing field, I know it will be you the coach will pick to be captain of the cricket team and the rugby. My best choice is to win your friendship, stand at your side and share in your glory.’

Ethan had liked his honesty, his realistic reading of the situation, and his pragmatic judgement of how he could get the most out of his time at school. Other boys might have hated the guy who had the edge on them for the most enviable positions, seen him as the enemy. He and Mickey had ended up the closest of allies in everything, their friendship so solid it had lasted through the years despite their career paths being very different.

They were both still bachelors. ‘Too many lovely fish in the sea to settle on one,’ was Mickey’s attitude. Ethan had long ago reached the cynical conclusion—recently and painfully reinforced by a woman he’d thought was different—that all desirable females had princess personalities, wanting everything their own way and generally bartering sex to get it. Which he’d been reasonably content to go along with. What man didn’t want sex?

But every last one of them had been only interested in what he could give them in return for the use of their bodies and the ego trip of being publicly partnered by them. It was an ego trip for the women, too, being seen with him. After all, it was a feather in their cap to have ensnared the interest—however briefly—of one of Sydney’s most eligible billionaires.

He would never forget the rotten downer of overhearing Serena preening over her triumphant catch to one of her girlfriends. It would have been a huge mistake to marry her and Ethan hated making mistakes. He still burned over the memory of how deceived he had been in her character.

He wanted honesty in a relationship. He wanted reality. He wanted to be known and appreciated for the person he was. He wanted a woman to give him the kind of understanding companionship that Mickey did. Which was probably impossible because women weren’t men. However, if he could just meet one of them who didn’t give him the feeling of being buttered up for the kill…

Daisy Donahue slid straight into his mind. It was a pity she wasn’t a guest here today. She’d sparked a very lively interest. Not the slightest hint of buttering up from her blunt tongue. The little brown sparrow was full of fireworks which he’d found surprisingly sexy. Nice curvy body, too. He didn’t understand Mickey’s attraction to models whose stick-like figures had no appeal to him. They couldn’t swish their non-existent bottoms at him, as Daisy had when she’d made off into the crowd. A very perky bottom.

Booty, the fashionistas called it these days. The word made him smile. He bet Daisy Donohue had bootiful hair, as well, if she ever let it down from the tight knot she’d wound it into at the nape of her neck. Ethan briefly fantasised about letting it down himself, massaging her scalp, getting into her head, watching those blazing dark eyes melt into hot chocolate. He would enjoy that. He really would.

Having reached the edge of the social circle gathered around Mickey, he caught his friend’s eye and nodded towards the exit from the marquee. Not waiting for Mickey to extract himself, Ethan moved on towards it, putting a forbiddingly purposeful expression on his face to discourage anyone from making another unwelcome approach. Mickey caught up with him just as he stepped outside.

‘Saw the Twiggley trying to get her claws into you,’ he remarked with a sympathetic grin. ‘Guess she’s one of the wounded, wanting the doctor.’

Ethan grimaced. ‘I’m not a doctor.’

‘Same thing…fixing up financial fall-out.’

‘I prefer the clients who trusted my advice in the first place.’

‘Like me.’ Mickey clapped him on the shoulder, obviously in high good humour, as they strolled towards the saddling paddock. ‘Never doubted your number-crunching for a moment.’

Ethan’s mind was still circling around the encounter with Lynda Twiggley. ‘She’s a revolting woman. Treated her PA like dirt.’

‘Hmm…do I detect a note of partiality towards the PA?’

A teasing delight danced in Mickey’s blue eyes. He was playing today and he wanted Ethan to play, too. Not that there was any chance of that with Daisy Donahue. Apart from the fact she was unavailable, her hostile glare had hardly been a positive response to him. Though he’d like to tackle the reason for it. Head on. Nothing like a challenge to get the adrenaline running.

‘More interesting than your models,’ he slung at his friend.

‘Ah-ha! This is a good sign that the sly and seductive Serena is no longer casting a pall over your sex drive. So what are you going to do about this new woman of interest?’

‘Today she has no time to dally,’ he said with a rueful grimace. ‘Lynda Twiggley’s evil eye is upon her.’

‘Easy! Tell the Twiggley you’ll take on her financial problems if she releases her PA to you for the rest of the day.’

Giving Daisy no choice? Remembering her stiffbacked pride, Ethan didn’t think being traded like a slave would go over too well with her. Besides, he didn’t want to work with Lynda Twiggley any more than Daisy did.

‘That’s not a solution, Mickey. That’s a mess,’ he mockingly pointed out.

‘Well, you figure it out,’ he tossed back with a shrug. ‘My policy is if you fancy a woman, go after her. Attack the moment. Seize the day. God knows it passes soon enough!’

Ethan rolled his eyes at him. ‘Maybe sometimes you should take a longer look before plunging in. As you do with horses.’