Maid For The Untamed Billionaire (Mills & Boon Modern) (Housekeeper Brides for Billionaires, Book 1) Read online

  It had been the best thing she’d ever done, despite putting her into debt.

  Not for much longer, though. Each week she saved every penny she could from her wages, not spending a cent on female fripperies like having her hair and nails done, or even clothes. She just made do with what she had. She also rarely ate out, or went out. If there were no further unexpected expenses—like having to pay for Timmy to have his tonsils out—she would be debt free by Christmas and able to finally start up her travel fund.

  Abby had always wanted to see the world, dreams of one day travelling overseas sustaining her when she’d been an unhappy teenager. Okay, so those dreams had been replaced by other dreams when she’d married Wayne, her focus changing to creating a happy family life, the sort of family life that neither she nor Wayne had ever had.

  But those dreams had failed to eventuate…

  Abby swallowed hard for a few moments, pushing the awful memories aside and forcing herself to focus on dreams which were achievable. And which might make her forget. They did say time healed all wounds. Time, and hopefully travel.

  Her dream holiday would encompass at least six months, seeing Europe, Asia and the Americas. There were so many places on her USA bucket list. Niagara Falls. The Grand Canyon. New York.

  Which meant of course that one day she’d have to quit her job as Jake’s housekeeper.

  Megan thought she was crazy to contemplate giving up her cushy job to go tripping around the world.

  But Abby didn’t agree. She needed to have a dream which looked forward and not back. If she wanted to travel, then she would travel. And to hell with her job as Jake Sanderson’s housekeeper. He’d survive without her, and she’d certainly survive without him.

  Shortly before nine-thirty, Abby turned into the street which led to Jake’s house. The road sloped gently down to the water, and the ferry terminal, most of the houses two-storey terraces which dated back to the early twentieth century. All of them had been renovated at some stage, Balmain being a very desirable address these days, a far cry from its working-class roots.

  Jake’s house had once been a large corner shop which someone had bought and turned into a house, extending it up and out. Jake had bought it a few years ago. It had come fully furnished in the Balinese style and with everything else he wanted, including a no-lawn backyard, a lap pool with a relaxing water feature and an en suite guest bedroom downstairs.

  Apparently, at the time of his purchase, he’d been suffering from some leg injury incurred whilst working overseas and hadn’t been capable of climbing stairs for a while. He’d told her all this on the day he’d given her the job, when he’d shown her through the place and explained what he expected her to do. Frankly, he’d spoken to her more that day than in the subsequent twelve months.

  Megan was always asking Abby questions about her oh, so famous and handsome bachelor boss, not quite believing her sister when Abby said she still knew next to nothing about him other than the basics, which was that he’d once been a famous documentary maker and was now an equally famous television show host. She had recently learnt that he had a favourite uncle named Craig who was a fairly famous foreign correspondent. Abby only knew this because the man himself had recently come to stay for a while after he’d suffered a skiing mishap.

  Megan probably knew a lot more about Abby’s boss since she avidly watched his programme every day. It was called Australia at Noon, a live one-and-a-half-hour programme which focused on celebrity interviews and current affairs, with a bit of variety thrown in—a tried and true formula whose success depended on the popularity of its host. Which Jake Sanderson was. Very.

  Abby did turn his show on occasionally during her lunch break but found she wasn’t as entranced by it—or by its handsome host—as her sister. She found it hard to match his charming television persona with the rather abrupt man who rarely said more than two words to her on the rare occasions their paths crossed.

  Not that she cared, as long as he kept on employing her and paying her till her travel fund was full.

  This last thought popped into Abby’s mind shortly after she let herself into the house and saw what was written in capital letters on the whiteboard in the utility room, where her boss wrote down things he wanted her to do, or buy. He never texted her, seeming to prefer this rather impersonal method of communication.

  Will be home around three.

  Need to talk to you about something.

  Jake

  Abby’s stomach flipped over, her immediate thought being that she’d done something wrong and he was going to fire her. But then common sense kicked in, Abby reasoning it might be nothing more important than his wanting to show her something which needed doing.

  Yes, that was probably it. No need to panic.

  But a sense of panic still hovered as time ticked slowly away that day. Meanwhile, Abby worked like a demon so that by the time three o’clock came around every room and surface in Jake’s house was clean and shining. All the pictures and side tables had been dusted. The washing had been done and dried, the master bed remade with clean sheets and fresh towels hung in the main bathroom. Even the courtyard had been swept, and a few of the pavers scrubbed where some red wine had been spilled. She hadn’t had a break, eating her lunch on the go.

  At ten to three Abby removed her cleaning gloves and tidied her hair, brushing it before putting it back up into her usual ponytail. She always wore jeans and trainers to work, with a T-shirt in the warm weather and a sweater in the cold. Today’s jeans were old and faded and a bit loose. Her black T-shirt was slightly too big for her as well. She’d lost weight lately, courtesy of her banning chocolate and ice cream from her diet.

  Abby sighed at her reflection in the laundry mirror. She wished she looked better. She would have taken more trouble with her appearance this morning if she’d known she was going to have a meeting with her boss. But how could she have known? She hadn’t seen him for weeks. Still, she really should go out and buy herself a few new things. Jeans and T-shirts didn’t cost much at Kmart.

  Three o’clock came and went without any sign of Jake. After ten minutes she wondered if she should text him. She did have his phone number but he’d made it clear from the start that she wasn’t to bother him that way, except in an emergency.

  Him being late was hardly an emergency. Still, if he hadn’t arrived by three-thirty she would text him. Meanwhile, she hurried to the kitchen and put on the kettle.

  CHAPTER TWO

  JAKE STEPPED OUT onto the deck of the ferry and scooped in several deep breaths. His stomach was still tied up in knots. He’d done his best with his show today, but his mind hadn’t been on the job. Not that he cared. Frankly, he wouldn’t care if he never did another show. Andrew had stood in for him as host last Friday and the ratings were just fine. No one was indispensable in the entertainment game.

  Jake contemplated letting Andrew take over for a week or two whilst he took a well-needed break. He’d jump at the chance, ambitious young buck that he was. Alternately, he might sell the show lock, stock and barrel and do something else with his life. Harvest Productions had been sniffing around for ages. If he could talk Sebastian into making him a half decent offer, he just might take him up on it.

  Though maybe not…

  Jake ran his fingers through his hair in total frustration. Damn it. He hadn’t felt this indecisive in years. Of course he knew the reason. He just didn’t like facing it. Sighing, he made his way over to the railing and stood there, staring out at the water.

  Sydney Harbour on a clear calm day in spring was a sight to behold. But Jake wasn’t in the mood for admiring his surroundings. Or even noticing them.

  Closing his eyes, he surrendered to the grief which he’d had to put on hold today whilst he did the show, and which he’d been struggling to contain for several days.

  Jake still could not believe that his uncle was actually d
ead. Not even the funeral last Friday had made it real. He could not picture Craig in that coffin. Could not conceive of the fact that he would never see the man again. Would not talk to him again. Or drink with him. Or anything at all with him.

  Craig had been much more than an uncle to Jake. He’d been his mentor and his friend. His idol, too. Even as a boy, Jake had admired the way his uncle lived his life.

  Craig hadn’t gone down the traditional route, getting a nine-to-five job then marrying and having children. He’d become a foreign correspondent, travelling the world to all the wildly exotic and sometimes dangerous places which fired Jake’s imagination. He’d also stayed single, explaining once to a teenage Jake that for him to marry would be cruel to the woman, and to any children they had because he would neglect them shamelessly.

  There’d been women, of course. Lots of women. Beautiful, exciting women who’d graced the dashingly handsome Craig Sanderson’s bed but who knew never to expect any more than his highly stimulating company.

  Jake had decided long before he left university with his communications degree that that was the life for him. No way was he going to follow in his father’s footsteps. Craig’s only brother had married before he was twenty, when his even younger girlfriend fell pregnant, then worked himself to death—literally—to support his ever-increasing brood.

  Jake couldn’t think of anything worse. He could not recall his father—when he was alive—having any time to himself. Everything he’d done had been for his family.

  When his dad died of a coronary at the age of forty-seven, Jake had been heartbroken but more determined than ever to embrace bachelorhood as well as a job which he loved and not one he was compelled to do just to pay the bills and put food on the table.

  Jake had been true to his resolve. He’d spent his twenties making documentaries in far-flung corners of the world, earning a small fortune at the same time. He’d still be overseas, living that life, if a run-in with a group of rebels in war-torn Africa hadn’t forced his life into a different direction.

  Working in television was tame by comparison, but it had its moments. Jake couldn’t really complain.

  Admittedly, since he’d stopped flitting from country to country and city to city, Jake had given up one-night stands and fleeting flings in favour of longer relationships. If you could call a few months long, that was. His current girlfriend was a career-orientated and highly independent woman who was great company, great in bed and knew better than to pressure him for marriage or, God forbid, a baby. Olivia had assured him on their first date that she wouldn’t get bitten by the biological clock bug like his last girlfriend. The only responsibility Jake wanted in life was paying his own personal bills.

  Which was exactly the way things had been…till the solicitor for Craig’s estate had dropped his bombshell at the wake.

  Jake already knew he’d been left the bulk of his uncle’s estate, Craig having given him a copy of his will for safekeeping. What he hadn’t known was that Craig had summoned his solicitor to his bedside a few days before his death and given him a letter for Jake, to be delivered after his funeral.

  Jake pulled the letter out of his pocket, unfolded it and read it for the umpteenth time.

  Dear Jake

  Hope you aren’t angry with me for not telling you about my illness, but there was nothing anyone could do and I do so hate pity. I had a good life, my only regret being that I didn’t go out with more style. A bullet or a bomb would have been much more me.

  But on to the reason for this letter. Jake, there’s something I want you to do for me. Last July, when I stayed at your place after I bunged up my knee, I got to know your very nice housekeeper quite well. Abby was extra kind to me and went over and above the call of duty to make my stay both comfortable and enjoyable. And, no, nothing untoward happened between us. She’s not that sort of girl.

  Anyway, on to my request. I didn’t want to add a codicil to my will. Too much trouble at this stage. Still, what I would like, Jake, is for you to buy Abby a new car to replace that appalling bomb she drives. Something small and stylish but with a long warranty.

  I also want you to give her twenty-five thousand dollars out of your considerable inheritance to go towards her travel fund. Please insist that she not use it for any other purpose. Don’t let her give it away to any of those free-loading relatives of hers.

  I have every confidence that you will do this for me. You’re a good man. And not a greedy one. Give Abby my love and tell her not to wait too long to see the world. Life is meant to be lived.

  The same goes for you, my boy. I’ll be watching over you from above.

  Your Uncle Craig

  Jake closed his eyes as he folded the letter, a huge lump having formed in his throat.

  ‘Damn it, Craig,’ he ground out, his heart squeezing tight with grief. ‘You should have told me you were ill. I could have been there for you the way you always were for me. You shouldn’t have had to die alone.’

  And you should have just put a damned codicil in your will, came the added thought, grief finally giving way to exasperation.

  It was impossible not to do what Craig asked, Jake accepted as he shoved the letter back in his pocket. But it annoyed him all the same.

  It wasn’t a question of money. He had plenty of money. It was the fact that fulfilling his uncle’s deathbed wishes would force him into Abby’s personal space—and company—something he’d been careful to avoid ever since he’d hired her.

  Because let’s face it, Jake, you fancy her even more now than ever.

  But he could see no way out. He would just have to gird his loins and endure!

  CHAPTER THREE

  AT TWENTY PAST THREE Abby’s boss finally showed up, looking slightly harassed but still very handsome in a smart grey suit and a crisp white shirt which highlighted his dark hair, olive complexion and deep blue eyes.

  Even Abby had to admit that in the flesh her boss was a hunk. But she’d never been blindly attracted to a man on looks alone. Handsome is as handsome does, in her opinion. What attracted her most in the opposite sex was kindness and gentleness, qualities which Wayne had had in spades.

  ‘Sorry I’m late,’ Jake said as he strode into the kitchen, where Abby was making herself coffee. ‘Damned ferry was running late. Could I trouble you for some coffee? Black, with no sugar,’ he ordered as he slid on to one of the kitchen stools, reefing off his tie at the same time.

  Abby wanted to scream at him. Didn’t he know how stressed out she was? But she held her tongue and made him the darned coffee.

  ‘So what did you want to talk to me about?’ she asked as soon as she’d placed his mug in front of him. She stayed standing on the other side of the breakfast bar, not daring to pick up her own coffee yet for fear of spilling it.

  His forehead bunched in a frown, which only added to her discomfort.

  ‘You’re going to fire me, aren’t you?’ she blurted out.

  His head shot up, his dark brows arching. ‘What? No. No, of course not! Good God, is that what you thought this was about?’

  She just shook her head at him. ‘I didn’t know what to think.’

  ‘Why on earth would I want to fire you? You are the best housekeeper a man could have. I’m sorry if you thought that.’

  Abby found herself flushing at his compliment. And his apology. Relief swamped her as well. She didn’t want to lose this job. Not for a good while yet.

  ‘It’s to do with Craig’s will,’ Jake said abruptly.

  ‘Craig’s will?’ she repeated, feeling somewhat confused. ‘Are you talking about your uncle Craig, the man who stayed here for a while during the winter?’

  It had been back in July, she recalled, about four months ago.

  ‘Yes. The thing is, Abby, he’s left you something in his will.’

  Abby just stared at Jake, shock joining her confusion
. ‘Are you saying that he’s dead?’

  ‘What? Oh. Yes. Yes, he died last week. Incurable cancer,’ he finished up with a heavy sigh.

  ‘But…but that’s impossible! I mean, he was so alive not that long ago.’

  ‘Tell me about it,’ Jake said as he swept an agitated hand through his hair. ‘It came as a shock to me as well. I gather he found out during an MRI for his busted knee about the cancer. But he never told anyone, not even me. And we were very close. I knew nothing about his illness till his solicitor rang and told me he’d passed away.’

  Abby found it hard to understand what he was saying. ‘You mean you weren’t with him when he died?’

  ‘No. No one was, other than the palliative care nurse. He’d booked himself into a hospice without telling anyone.’

  ‘But that’s terrible!’ Abby declared heatedly, upset that anyone would choose to die like that.

  Jake’s shrug carried a weary resignation. ‘It was what he wanted. I’m surprised you didn’t hear about his death. It was all over the news at the weekend. He was quite famous.’

  ‘I… I don’t often watch the news.’

  ‘I see.’

  She wanted to ask him why he hadn’t told her himself, but of course why would he? She wasn’t a relative, or a friend. He wouldn’t have known how much she’d enjoyed the time she’d spent with his uncle whilst he’d stayed here.

  Craig had been a fascinating individual, highly intelligent, widely travelled and very well read. He’d been incredibly nice to her, showing an interest in her as a person and not just some kind of maid. The day before he’d left, he’d given her a list of ten books which he said everybody—especially young women—should read. She was still slowly working her way through them. They were the reason she didn’t watch the news much any more, and why she hadn’t seen the report of his death.

  Tears flooded her eyes at the realisation that this very nice man was actually dead.