Free The Billionaire's Housekeeper Mistress by Emma Darcy Page A

sternly told herself.
    Giving in to sexual chemistry was one thing.
    Wanting financial pillow-talk out of it was something else.
    But he’d be using her so why shouldn’t she use him?
    The idea of having sex with him had been squirrelling around in her mind for weeks. She wanted to know how it would feel. He was, without a doubt, the most attractive man she’d ever met. It was only natural to be tempted to have the experience even though it wouldn’t lead to a serious relationship, and if there were side benefits…at least that would make up for being dumped afterwards. She could come out winning.
    On the other hand, that was a gamble and she didn’t gamble.
    The higher probability was she would come out losing…losing this job before she could find another, losing her self-esteem, losing her sense of right and wrong, and it was certainly wrong to barter sex for help. This wasn’t exactly a survival situation. She could manage it by herself. But for how long? And at what cost to her own life?
    Heaving a despondent sigh, she picked up the punnet of cherry tomatoes and started cutting them in half to add to the green salad. He was whipping up a homemade dressing, blending Spanish onion with vinegar, sugar, vegetable oil, water, salt and mustard. The blender was switched off long enough for him to dip a finger into the mixture and lift that finger to his mouth for tasting.
    Her heart did a ridiculous flip. It wasn’t a deliberately erotic action. Although when he saw her lookingat him, those devilish green eyes sparkled wickedly. The urgent need for some down-to-earth distraction made her grab at the first non-sexual thought that ran through her mind.
    ‘How come you’re so into cooking?’ she blurted out.
    ‘I enjoy eating well. Don’t you?’
    ‘Yes. But you could afford to frequent the best restaurants. You don’t have to do it yourself.’
    ‘There’s more satisfaction in doing it precisely to one’s own taste. My grandmother taught me that.’
    ‘Your grandmother?’
    He grinned, delighted to have teased her interest. ‘From the time I was a boy hanging out in her kitchen. I used to go there after school. She loved cooking and everything I ate with her tasted so much better than the stuff my parents bought. Neither of them ever cooked. It was always frozen meals or takeaways, eaten in an absent-minded fashion whenever they felt the need for fuel. They’re both so wrapped up in their mental world, the physical world barely impinges on it.’
    He must have had a strange upbringing, Daisy thought, very different from her family life. ‘Does that mean your mother is an academic, too?’ she asked, unable to squash her curiosity about him.
    He nodded. ‘The law is her life. She lectures on it at university. Writes books on it.’
    ‘Were you an only child?’ He hadn’t indicated the presence of any siblings.
    ‘One was enough for my parents,’ he said dryly. ‘Not that they didn’t care for me. They did in their own way. Though I’d have to say the best thing they did for me was send me to boarding school. I had a great time at Riverview with Mickey and Charlie and the other guys.’
    He poured the dressing into a sauce-boat ready to use later. ‘Though the food wasn’t up to my grandmother’s standard,’ he added ruefully. ‘When I finally struck out on my own, I wanted to cook for myself.’
    Daisy had to agree it was hard to beat a really good home-cooked meal.
    ‘This dressing is one of my grandmother’s recipes,’ he ran on. ‘Have a taste.’
    It was impossible to resist dipping a finger in and carrying it to her mouth, though she was conscious of him watching the action, waiting for her response. ‘Mmm…yummy.’
    He laughed. ‘It’s always a pleasure to share pleasures.’
    His eyes twinkled with a seductive invitation to share many more with him.
    Daisy instantly pulled herself back into a defensive shell. Everything about Ethan Cartwright made him too temptingly attractive.