Pleasured In The Billionaire's Bed. Miranda Lee

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      Miranda Lee

      Pleasured in the Billionaire’s Bed

      

      Contents

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHAPTER TWO

      CHAPTER THREE

      CHAPTER FOUR

      CHAPTER FIVE

      CHAPTER SIX

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      CHAPTER EIGHT

      CHAPTER NINE

      CHAPTER TEN

      CHAPTER ELEVEN

      CHAPTER TWELVE

      CHAPTER THIRTEEN

      CHAPTER FOURTEEN

      CHAPTER FIFTEEN

      CHAPTER SIXTEEN

      CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

      CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

      CHAPTER NINETEEN

      CHAPTER TWENTY

      COMING NEXT MONTH

      CHAPTER ONE

      LISA grimaced when the couple on the television screen started ripping each other’s clothes off.

      ‘As if people really act like that,’ she muttered as she reached for the remote.

      If there was one thing Lisa couldn’t stand it was over-the-top love scenes in movies. As much as she appreciated she might not be a typical viewer, Lisa felt pretty sure sex was never the way it was portrayed in Hollywood.

      She literally cringed when the man lifted the by now half-naked woman onto the kitchen counter and thrust into her. Or pretended to. The camera was on their faces. When the grunting and groaning started, Lisa pressed her finger firmly on the off button. She’d had enough of watching such ridiculous goings-on, thank you very much. Time to go upstairs and make sure Cory was asleep. It was after nine o’clock and tomorrow was a school day.

      Lisa was halfway up the stairs when the phone rang.

      Darn, she thought as she hurried on up the stairs and turned left, popping her head into Cory’s bedroom on the way to her own bedroom.

      Good, he was asleep.

      Once in her bedroom, she closed the door behind her—so as not to risk waking her son—and picked up the cordless phone.

      ‘Hello,’ she said, fully expecting it to be her mother at this hour. All her girlfriends were married with children and were too busy each evening for gossipy chats.

      ‘It’s Gail, Lisa,’ a woman’s voice said down the line. ‘Gail Robinson.’

      Lisa decided she’d best sit down. When one of her employees rang her on her personal line on a week night, it usually meant there was some problem or other.

      ‘Hi, Gail. What’s up?’

      ‘I’ve sprained my ankle,’ Gail said dispiritedly. ‘Slipped down that rotten steep driveway of ours. I’ve been sitting here with my foot in a bucket of iced water for ages but it’s still up like a balloon. There’s no way I can do Jack Cassidy’s place tomorrow.’

      Lisa frowned. Jack Cassidy was one of her newer clients. Sandra—her assistant-cum-bookkeeper—had signed him up whilst Lisa was away with Cory on a week’s cruise of the South Pacific during the recent school holidays. A bachelor, Mr Cassidy owned a penthouse apartment in Terrigal which apparently had acres of tiled floors and took ages to clean. He also liked his sheets and towels changed and his weekly linen washed, dried and put away, not something her cleaners usually did. Their standard service lasted four hours and covered cleaning all floors, bathrooms and kitchens, not doing laundry or windows. Laundry could be very time-consuming and windows dangerous.

      But he’d apparently talked Sandra into finding someone who would do the extra.

      Gail took five hours to do everything, for which Clean-in-a-Day was paid one hundred and fifty dollars, with Gail’s cut being one hundred and twenty. Their rates were very competitive.

      ‘I’m really sorry to let you down at the last minute,’ Gail said unhappily.

      ‘That’s all right. I’ll get someone else.’

      ‘On a Friday?’

      Lisa knew why Gail sounded sceptical. Friday was the busiest day for housecleaning. Everyone wanted their homes to be clean for the weekend. Clean in a Day was fully booked on Fridays. Lisa had a couple of names she could ring if she was really desperate, but they were women who had not been through her rigorous training course and might not clean as thoroughly as she liked.

      ‘Don’t worry,’ she said briskly. ‘I’ll do it myself. And Gail…’

      ‘Yes?’

      ‘Don’t stress about the money. You’ll still get paid.’

      ‘Are you serious?’

      ‘I’m well aware how tight things are for you at the moment.’

      Gail’s husband had been made redundant a few weeks earlier. She really needed her cleaning money.

      ‘That’s very good of you,’ she choked out.

      Lisa winced. Dear heaven, please don’t let her start crying.

      ‘Will you be up at the school tomorrow afternoon to pick up the kids?’ she asked quickly.

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘I’ll give you your money then.’

      ‘Gosh, I don’t know what to say.’

      ‘Don’t say a word. Especially not to the other girls. Can’t have my sergeant-major reputation tarnished. They’ll think I’ve become a soft touch and start taking advantage.’

      Gail laughed. ‘I can’t see that happening. You have a very formidable air about you, you know.’

      ‘So I’m told.’

      ‘You always look so perfect as well. That’s rather intimidating.’

      ‘It’s just the way I am,’ she said defensively.

      Lisa had heard such criticisms before. From girlfriends. From her mother. Even her husband. When he’d been alive…

      Greg had complained incessantly about her compulsive need to have everything look right all the time. The house. The garden. Herself. The baby. Him.

      ‘Why don’t you lighten up a bit?’ he’d thrown at her more than once. ‘You’re nothing like your mother. She’s so easygoing. I thought daughters were supposed to be like their mothers!’

      Lisa shuddered at the thought of being like her mother.

      Despite Greg’s nagging, she held on to the belief he hadn’t really wanted her to be like her mother. He’d certainly liked inviting people back to their house, knowing she and it would always be neat and tidy.

      ‘By the way, I don’t have keys to Mr Cassidy’s place,’ Gail said, reefing Lisa’s mind back to the problem at hand. ‘He’s always home on a Friday. I just press the button for the penthouse at the security entrance and he lets me in.’

      Lisa’s top lip curled. Pity. She hated having a client around when she cleaned.

      ‘He’s a writer of some sort,’ Gail added. ‘Works from home.’

      ‘I see.’

      ‘Don’t worry. He won’t bother you. He stays in his study