Pleasured In The Billionaire's Bed. Miranda Lee
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settings or characters. Definitely no changes to endings.
Jack wondered who they’d cast for the blonde in this last scene. Not anyone obvious or voluptuous, he hoped. Someone slender and classy-looking. Someone like Mrs Hoity-Toity out there.
Damn, but she’d stirred his hormones. A lot.
For a split-second, Jack toyed with the temptation of making her an indecent proposition. But he quickly got over it.
He was not Hal. He did not seduce married women.
Neither did he right the dreadful wrongs in this world.
That only happened in fiction. In the real world, the baddies didn’t get their comeuppances. They lived on with their millions and their mistresses. They destroyed countries and slaughtered innocent people, but rarely faced punishment.
Jack grimaced. Not that bandwagon again, he lectured himself. There was nothing you could do back then. Nothing you could ever do. None of it was your fault.
Jack’s brain knew that. But his heart didn’t always feel the same, that unexpectedly sensitive heart which had been stripped bare by his experiences in the army.
Despite not having worn a soldier’s uniform for six years, the memories of all Jack had witnessed still haunted him. He would never forget. Or forgive.
But at least now, with the success of his books, he’d rediscovered some pleasure in living.
Which brought him right back to one pleasure he’d been doing without lately.
‘What you need is to get laid,’ he muttered to himself as he rose from his chair and left his study.
Lisa was bending over, about to take the towels out of the front-loading washing machine, when she sensed someone standing behind her.
Even before she straightened and spun around, she knew it was Jack Cassidy.
He was standing in the laundry doorway, watching her with those steely grey eyes of his.
‘Can I help you?’ she snapped, annoyed with the way her heart had started pounding.
‘I didn’t mean to startle you,’ he returned. ‘You can put my study on your cleaning list as well now. I’ve finished my book.’
‘You want me to clean your study on top of everything else?’ she asked, her voice still sharp.
‘I’ll pay you extra.’
‘It’s not a matter of money, Mr Cassidy, but time. I have to be gone from here by two-thirty to pick up my son from school.’
‘I see. You can’t get anyone else to pick him up?’
‘No. I can’t.’
‘Could you come back tomorrow perhaps? My study hasn’t been cleaned for a few weeks, and frankly, it’s a mess.’
‘I’m sorry, I can’t do it tomorrow, either.’ Lisa was beginning to regret not telling him she was the owner of Clean-in-a-Day, not just a contract cleaner. But it was too late now. He’d think she was weird for not mentioning it sooner.
‘Why not?’ he persisted. ‘Will your husband object, is that it?’
‘What? No. No, I don’t have a husband,’ she confessed.
‘But you’re wearing a wedding ring,’ he said, confusion in his face and voice.
‘I’m a widow.’
CHAPTER FOUR
JACK hoped he didn’t look as gobsmacked by this news as he felt. Or as excited.
A widow no less. Now, that was a different ball game entirely.
‘But you’re so young,’ he remarked whilst his brain started making plans which his body definitely approved of.
‘I’m thirty,’ she retorted.
‘You don’t look it.’
‘I’ve always looked young for my age.’
‘What happened to your husband?’
‘He died in an accident, five years ago.’
‘A car accident?’
‘No. He fell off the roof of our house.’
‘Good lord. That must have been dreadful for you.’
‘It was,’ she replied stiffly.
‘Do you have any other children?’
‘No. Just the one,’ she told him. ‘Cory. He’s nine.’
Nine! She must have married very young. Either that, or she’d fallen pregnant before the wedding.
No. Jack didn’t think that would have happened. Mrs Lisa Chapman wasn’t the sort of girl who had unplanned pregnancies.
‘Is your son the problem, then?’ he asked. ‘Can’t you get someone to look after him tomorrow morning?’
‘No, I can’t.’
Mmm. No live-in boyfriend, then.
He was tempted to suggest she bring the boy with her, but decided that was going a bit fast. Jack was smart enough to realise that was not the way to go with this particular lady. She was what he and his mates in the army had used to call an ice princess. Back then, they’d all steered well clear of ice princesses, none of them having the money or the time it took to melt them.
If he wanted to know his cleaner better—and his body kept screaming at him that he did—Jack would have to be super-patient. And super-subtle.
‘OK,’ he said with a nonchalant shrug. ‘Tell me what else you’ve got left to do. It can’t be the kitchen. I’ve just been through there and it positively gleamed at me.’
His compliment surprised Lisa. As did his change in manner. Where had the grumpy guy gone who’d answered the phone last night? And who’d let her in this morning?
Finishing his book had certainly changed his personality.
But Lisa could understand that. When she finished a job, she often experienced a rush of warmth and wellbeing.
Cleaning the kitchen in this penthouse had brought considerable satisfaction. But then, what a magnificent kitchen it was! Lisa had never seen anything like it before. The bench tops were made of cream marble. The cupboards, a light warm wood. The appliances, stainless steel.
It had been such a pleasure to clean. As had the rest of the penthouse. But she hadn’t finished yet.
‘I have to iron these towels and put them away,’ she said. ‘And I haven’t washed any of the tiles yet.’
‘Aah yes, the dreaded tiles. What say you leave them and tackle my study instead?’
Lisa stared down at the tiles around her. They really needed doing. She would not feel right leaving them undone. Neither did she want to come back tomorrow morning. There was something about Jack Cassidy which still perturbed her. She wasn’t sure what.
‘If I hurry, I should be able to do everything,’ she said. ‘It’s only ten past one.’
Jack could not believe it when she set to work at a speed which made his head spin. This girl was a cleaner to beat all cleaners. Focused, and very fast. By ten to two, all the tiled floors were shining and she bustled off in the direction of his study, vacuum cleaner and feather duster in hand.
There hadn’t been a single opportunity to chat her up in any way. It was work, work and more work. His chances of asking her to come to the dinner with him tomorrow night were fast running out. On top of that, Jack wasn’t sure she’d say yes, anyway. Not once today had she looked at him with any interest, which was highly unusual. Most women found him attractive.