‘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.’
‘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.
Anxious not to be late, Daisy had given herself plenty of time to arrive at her destination before eight o’clock. The nearer she got to it, the more impressive the properties became—big old homes set in much larger grounds than any normal suburban block. Some were massive and built of sandstone which would be horrendously expensive these days, but this was an old established area in Sydney, close to the harbour and at the mouth of the Lane Cove River.
She couldn’t imagine Ethan Cartwright living in any of them. Why would a bachelor want to rattle around alone in a mansion when a luxurious apartment right in the CBD would provide an easier lifestyle? No doubt he had simply made a shrewd investment. Even the top end of the property market had slumped—dropping millions of dollars in recent months—so it was an opportune time to buy. It was the best time to renovate, too, with so many builders out of work. He’d probably bought an old home in bad repair but on prime real estate, and was anticipating making a huge profit when fortunes changed again.
There were several tradesmen’s trucks parked along the designated street when Daisy turned into it, more or less marking the place she had to find. Confirmation of the address brought a flood of amazement. It was a mansion and it looked absolutely beautiful the way it was, at least on the outside.
The huge, white, two-storeyed house had been built with perfect symmetry, the windows and doors—all of which had French doors that opened out—matching up on both floors, which also had perfectly matching verandahs with glorious white wrought-iron railings. The roof was dark grey slate and a wide set of bluestone steps led up from a semi-circular driveway to the front door. Within this semi-circle was a large stone fountain.
There were no gardens, just green lawn and trees along the side fence-line, giving the setting a wonderful simplicity that highlighted the splendid grace of the house. The front fence and two side double gates were also of white wrought-iron in the same pattern as the verandah railings. One set of gates was open, obviously for the workmen’s use, as there was another driveway down that side of the house to the back.
A black BMW roadster was parked at the foot of the front steps—definitely a billionaire’s car, which meant her new employer was already here waiting for her. Daisy decided to drive into the grounds and park behind it. After all, she was supposed to be in charge of this project, right on site.
If Ethan Cartwright hadn’t changed his mind in the meantime.
It was a worry.
Her parents had both been very dubious about what they saw as an impulsive and irregular offer of work Daisy wasn’t trained for. She’d had to explain the circumstances of losing her job to them and they were only too painfully aware of why she had accepted this one. Her father kept muttering, ‘It isn’t right,’ and they should sell up and move somewhere cheaper—a place in one of the housing estates for senior citizens.