Maid For The Untamed Billionaire

From making his bed…

To sharing it!

Charismatic Jake Sanderson has always flustered shy housekeeper Abby Jenkins. She deliberately avoids his intoxicating presence while cleaning his Sydney mansion. Until, after an emotional encounter, she glimpses another side to her enigmatic boss…

Being suddenly swept into Jake’s world—and his arms!—is an eye-opening experience for widow Abby. Exhilarated by their thrilling chemistry, she’s finally emerging from the shadows of her grief, more confident than before. But when Jake’s number one rule is no long-term relationships, how can ordinary maid Abby possibly tame the wild billionaire?

Born and raised in the Australian bush, MIRANDA LEE was boarding-school-educated, and briefly pursued a career in classical music before moving to Sydney and embracing the world of computers. Happily married, with three daughters, she began writing when family commitments kept her at home. She likes to create stories that are believable, modern, fast-paced and sexy. Her interests include meaty sagas, doing word puzzles, gambling and going to the movies.

Also by Miranda Lee

Taken Over by the Billionaire

The Italian’s Unexpected Love-Child

Marrying a Tycoon miniseries

The Magnate’s Tempestuous Marriage

The Tycoon’s Outrageous Proposal

The Tycoon’s Scandalous Proposition

Rich, Ruthless and Renowned miniseries

The Italian’s Ruthless Seduction

The Billionaire’s Ruthless Affair

The Playboy’s Ruthless Pursuit

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Maid for the Untamed Billionaire

Miranda Lee

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08853-4

MAID FOR THE UNTAMED BILLIONAIRE

© 2019 Miranda Lee

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This ebook contains the following accessibility features which, if supported by your device, can be accessed via your ereader/accessibility settings:

 Change of font size and line height

 Change of background and font colours

 Change of font

 Change justification

 Text to speech

Dedicated to my sister, Wendy.

A lovely lady and my best friend.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

PROLOGUE

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

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

EPILOGUE

Extract

About the Publisher

PROLOGUE

JAKE NEEDED A HOUSEKEEPER.

But not the live-in kind. The last thing he wanted was someone underfoot all the time, picking up after him, forcing him to make conversation and invading his space. The reason Jake had bought a house a few years ago was to have his own space.

After spending weeks in hospital and then another month at the rehabilitation clinic, he’d wanted nothing more than to be by himself. So he’d turned down the offers to live with relatives and bought this place in East Balmain, calling it a thirtieth birthday present to himself.

He’d thought he could make do with a cleaner coming in three times a week. And he had managed—in a fashion, even in the beginning when he’d been pretty useless, his leg still not totally healed. He’d shopped online and sent his laundry out, a routine he’d continued even after he was fully better and back working.

But it had finally become tedious, seeing to all the other chores which owning and maintaining a house involved. He loathed having to wait for tradespeople, who didn’t always turn up on time. Patience was not his strong suit.

Jake could well afford to pay someone to do everything for him. He’d already been a wealthy man before the success of his television show, so it had never been a matter of money. More of privacy.

Not that he had much privacy any more, his star having risen over the last couple of years, his every move recorded on social media and in the gossip rags.

But not at home. His home was his sanctuary, as well as his castle. So it was imperative that Jake find the right kind of housekeeper, a task which had proven to be much more difficult than he’d assumed, mostly because he simply hadn’t liked any of the women he’d interviewed for the position.

It was silly, really, given he wouldn’t have to have anything much to do with the woman on a personal basis. His brief to the various employment agencies was for his housekeeper to work only during the week, not at the weekends. She was to come in after he left for work every weekday morning, and be gone by the time he arrived home, which often wasn’t until quite late. Producing and hosting Australia at Noon consumed every minute of every weekday from morning until late afternoon.

So it shouldn’t really matter whether he liked his housekeeper or not.

But he couldn’t stomach the thought of someone he didn’t like in his personal space when he wasn’t there.

The main problem was that every woman he’d interviewed so far had been a big fan of his show. Not a crime, admittedly. But irritating. They had all been way too gushy. And way too eager.

Jake was suspicious of eager, especially when it came to women. A flaw, he supposed, common with confirmed bachelors. Still, he kept picturing them putting things about their wonderful new job and their wonderful new boss on all the social media sites they would invariably be on, complete with photos.

The upshot was he hadn’t hired any of them, and was instead waiting for another candidate to arrive, sent out by Housewives For Hire, a newish employment agency, the owner of which had fortuitously appeared on a segment of his show a few days ago.

Her agency promised to provide exactly the sort of employee he was looking for. Apparently, the women on their books were mostly housewives themselves, wanting to earn extra money whilst their children were at school.

He’d rung the lady who owned the agency the other night—her name was Barbara—explaining what kind of housekeeper he needed. He’d asked her to find him someone suitable, preferably a woman who didn’t obsessively watch his show and think he was God’s gift to women.

She’d promised to find him the right person.

So here he was, sitting in his study at five to two on a Saturday afternoon, waiting to interview Barbara’s top recommendation, but thinking to himself he was possibly wasting his time again.

This woman Barbara was sending him was way too young for starters. Only twenty-six. And a widow no less. How on earth had that happened?

Barbara hadn’t said and he hadn’t liked to ask.

Jake sighed. A car accident, he supposed. Or an illness of some kind.

At least she didn’t have children. Nothing sadder than a young widow trying to raise children alone. Nothing tougher, either.

This young woman—her name was Abby Jenkins—was apparently looking for work and wasn’t qualified for much, her very short CV showing she had left high school at seventeen to work in a fish and chip shop till she’d married at twenty, shortly after which she’d left to become a stay-at-home housewife.

A strange choice for a modern young woman. Rather old-fashioned, in Jake’s opinion. Made her sound a little odd. He didn’t fancy employing odd.

But he would give her a chance. Everyone deserved a chance.

He heard a car pull up outside. A glance at his watch showed it was right on two. She was punctual at least.

Jake stood up and made his way from the study to the front door, arriving in time to unlock the deadbolt just as the doorbell rang. He took a deep breath and opened the door, not sure what to expect.

His breath caught at the sight of a very pretty blonde whose lovely green eyes were looking up at him with a decidedly worried expression. No, not worried. Nervous. The girl was terribly nervous, chewing at her bottom lip and clutching the strap of her black shoulder bag as if it were a lifeline.

He supposed it was only natural that she’d be nervous. Barbara had mentioned that this was the girl’s first job interview for her agency. Possibly it was her first job interview ever.

Jake’s eyes flicked over the rest of her appearance.

She was wearing dark blue jeans and a cream crocheted top, their snug fit showing a very good figure. Her honey-blonde hair was long and straight, pulled back into a low ponytail. She wasn’t wearing make-up, not even lipstick. It pleased Jake that she hadn’t dolled herself up like some of the other women he’d interviewed.

‘Mr Sanderson?’ she asked hesitantly.

Jake’s eyebrows rose at the realisation that she didn’t recognise him. Which meant she hadn’t ever watched his show, or any of the documentaries he’d made over the years.

He didn’t know whether to be happy or hurt, which was ironic.

Either way, it was still a positive factor. He definitely didn’t want a housekeeper who was a fan.

‘Yes, that’s me,’ he replied, willing now to overlook the fact that she was not only way too young but way too pretty. Jake reasoned that if he hired her, he wouldn’t be around her on a daily basis so he wouldn’t be in danger of being tempted by her very attractive package. Because, to be honest, it would be seriously hard to ignore those eyes. And that mouth.

Jake dragged his gaze away from it before his mind wandered into R-rated territory.

‘And you must be Abby,’ he said, smiling a little stiffly.

She smiled back. Not a big smile. A small one. But it showed lovely white teeth behind those luscious lips.

‘Yes,’ she said simply, then added in a rush, ‘it’s very good of you to give me an interview.’

‘Barbara recommended you highly,’ he said.

She seemed startled. ‘She did?’

‘Indeed, she did. Said she’d dropped in unexpectedly at your home before she signed you up and it was immaculate.’

A soft blush pinked her cheeks. Lord, but she was sweet as well as pretty. Jake liked pretty women, but he wasn’t usually attracted to sweet.

Till now…

‘I like to keep things nice and neat,’ she said.

‘Same here,’ he said rather brusquely. ‘Come in and we’ll talk some more.’

‘Oh. Right. Yes.’ But she didn’t move, her lovely eyes wide and unblinking.

Maybe he’d frightened her with his brusqueness. Jake could be very charming, when he chose to be. But he could also be intimidating.

Very charming was definitely not on. But intimidating was not nice either. Best stick to businesslike.

‘Perhaps I should give you a tour of the house first,’ Jake suggested matter-of-factly, stepping back and waving her inside. ‘Show you what you’ll be letting yourself in for. You might not want the job, even if I offer it to you.’

‘I’m sure I will, Mr Sanderson,’ she said and made her way past him into the hallway, where she stopped and stared down. ‘Oh, what a lovely floor. I love polished wooden floors.’

‘They’re hard work to keep clean,’ came Jake’s blunt comment as he shut the front door behind her.

‘I’m not afraid of hard work,’ she said, turning to look up at him.

Jake admired the flash of feistiness in her eyes.

It came to him then that he liked this girl. Really liked her.

‘Excellent,’ he said, knowing that he had found his housekeeper at last.

And if it bothered Jake that he also found Abby very desirable, then he determined to ignore it. But he also determined to put things in place so that he would hardly ever see her.

Out of sight was out of mind, after all!

CHAPTER ONE

Twelve months later…

ABBY WAS HUMMING happily as she locked up her neat little weatherboard cottage and headed off to work. She never suffered from Monday-itis. She liked her job. Liked looking after Jake Sanderson’s very beautiful house. And looking after Jake Sanderson himself, despite not liking him all that much.

Still, Abby would always be grateful to the man for hiring her when she had no current work experience or references.

Frankly, she still could not believe her luck at getting such a cushy position. Aside from the convenience of getting to work—East Balmain wasn’t too long a drive from Seven Hills—she was her own boss since Jake was never there when she was. She could do as she pleased; have breaks whenever she wanted; work at her own pace.

Not that she was a slacker. Abby was somewhat of a perfectionist when it came to keeping house. You could eat food off the floors in her own home. And off Jake’s by the time she left each day.

Admittedly, when she first arrived on Monday mornings, things could be on the extra messy side. Abby always knew when Jake had had company over the weekend, the kind who stayed the night and didn’t bother to lift a finger to pick up dirty wine glasses or load the dishwasher or do anything other than whatever it was his playmates did. The man who’d been voted most popular television personality earlier this year was reputed never to be short of female company.

Abby’s sister, Megan, who was addicted to Twitter and gossip magazines, kept Abby well informed about who her boss was currently dating. His latest squeeze was a newsreader from the same television channel that Jake’s show aired on. Her name was Olivia, a stunning brunette with big brown eyes and a figure to die for. A smile to die for as well.

There had been a time when Abby would have felt jealous of that smile.

But not any more.

Abby stopped humming abruptly as her tongue ran over her top teeth, still amazed at how fantastic they felt. Her bottom teeth too.

Of course, porcelain veneers came at a huge cost. Abby still hadn’t finished paying off the personal loan she’d taken out to have them done. But really, it had been a case of necessity rather than vanity.

‘You need confidence to go back into the workforce after all this time, hon,’ her sister had advised. ‘Which means you need to do something about your teeth!’

And Megan had been so right. Imagine showing up for an interview with Jake Sanderson the way she’d been. She suffered from fluorosis, a condition which involved an excess of fluoride, caused perhaps by eating fluoride laced toothpaste as a child. She’d loved the taste. Her fluorosis had worsened over the years, the brown stains darkening, pitting her teeth, especially the top ones. Wayne had said she was beautiful the way she was. But Abby had never believed him. So finally, when there’d been no Wayne to object, she’d taken Megan’s advice and gone to the dentist.

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.