that he can’t get the better of you—not this time, at least.”
Daniel couldn’t quite hold in a bitter laugh at that. How like his father to insult him and Grayson all in one breath. Grayson might be new money, but that was because he’d pulled himself up from poverty into a brilliant career. And while the competitive friendship between the two of them and Blake meant that Daniel didn’t always come out on top in their contests and bets, that didn’t make Daniel a loser, no matter what his father seemed to think.
“Dad,” Daniel began, but when his rebuttal failed to appear on his lips, he realized he had no good reason for not going through with it. If he explained that he and Jackie were not—and had never been—together, his father would think he was just making up excuses.
He just needed to make sure he could convince Jackie to go through with it, but he already had a pretty good idea of how he’d make that happen. Tossing tons of money in anyone’s face was a sure way to elicit a solid ‘yes’.
“What? The next words out of your mouth better be ‘Dad, you’re right’, or—”
“Dad,” Daniel interrupted, clamping a hand on his father’s shoulder. “You’re right. I’ll be collecting my money at the end of next week, don’t you worry.”
His father seemed appeased, and he nodded brusquely, his gaze darting over Daniel’s shoulder. “Great. Go get ‘em. I’ll see you in the office later.”
When Daniel returned to the table, their lunches were there. As soon as Daniel sat down, Blake dug into his food. “You get in trouble from Daddy Trent?”
“No, just wrapping up some details from the business trip I went on,” Daniel said, replacing his napkin over his lap.
“So, what’s the answer?” Grayson asked.
Daniel sighed tersely, pushing around the fancy kale salad he had no intention of eating. “To your stupid bet?”
“Yes. Let’s hear it. A cool mill says you won’t be able to make your romance with the Bathtub Babe last until my wedding is over and we’re en route to the honeymoon.”
The fire flickered to life inside of him. The competitive juice that streaked through his veins was more like a drug than anything else.
“Done. I’ll show you that my Bathtub Babe not only has a name, she has longevity. To the honeymoon and beyond,” Daniel proclaimed. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t talked it over with Jackie—he’d figure out a way to convince her. He closed business deals every day, and that was all this was. A business deal to show his friends and father and anyone else who was looking that he could hit any target he aimed at, one way or another. All that mattered was winning. “That extra million would have been nice for you guys to vacation with—hope it’s not going to ruin your plans.”
“We’ll be fine,” Grayson said with a snarky grin before diving into his quiche.
Their conversation finally turned to other topics, most of them involving the preparations for Grayson’s wedding and whether or not the DJ would open with the “Macarena” once the dancing began. After lunch, Daniel made a quick exit so that he could get back to the office. He had a lot on his plate for the day, but more than that, he wanted to make sure that he was home in time to catch Jackie.
Their first two days of cohabitation had been uneventful, to say the least. She was usually getting ready for her day by the time he was leaving for work, and both nights he’d gotten home late—after she was already tucked into the guest room.
Still, though, he could see small signs of her presence in his penthouse. Feminine toiletries in the bathroom. Grad school textbooks on the coffee table. And the presence of granola bars and three-pound bags of pistachio nuts—that was all new. And for some reason, really cute.
He liked the idea of Jackie sitting around, studying and cracking pistachio nuts while she worked.
Or maybe he just liked the thought of Jackie doing anything.
He managed to leave the office by six thirty, and was hitting home by just after seven with a rumbling belly and no energy to cook. As soon as he stepped into his penthouse, Jackie’s sing-song voice carried through the foyer.
“And I say hell-o to you, and hell-o to you…”
As his footsteps snicked through the foyer, her singing stopped. When he saw her, she was standing guiltily next to the fish tank in his great