Her Bad Boy Billionaire Lover (Billionai - By Bretton, Barbara Page 0,12

Dior and Versace had been as familiar as old friends.

"Okay," she said out loud, taking measure of the damage. "This isn't so bad. A good dressmaker could fix it." Good dressmakers cost good money, that annoying little voice inside intoned. She sank onto the bed and crushed the garment in her hands.

It was his fault. All of it. She never had trouble with zippers. Seeing Jake again after so long had turned her into a mass of nerves, incapable even of undressing herself without courting disaster. He had no business being there. Five years ago when Megan was alone with a brand new baby and the rubble of her father's business empire falling down around her shoulders--then she would have welcomed him back into her life.

She'd been terrified and alone, wishing with all her heart that she hadn't walked out on him the first moment things got tough. Jenny was a good baby but Megan was little more than a baby herself in all the things that mattered. She needed a knight on a white charger to ride into her life and make everything right again, the way it used to be. The way it should be.

She'd called everywhere and everyone she could think of as she tried to find him, but Jake had vanished without a trace. She could barely manage to scrape up enough money to pay the telephone bill, much less hire a detective to track him down.

And when you came down to it, what difference would it have made? It didn't matter if he was in Paris or Cairo or Sydney. The last thing he wanted was a ready-made family and a mansion filled with bills.

"Oh, you'd love this, wouldn't you," she said as she remembered the dangerous glitter in her ex-husband's eyes. Arrogant, spoiled Megan McLean brought to her knees. Forced to live like the common folk. She could just imagine what Jake would say if he knew she'd been living one step ahead of the bill collectors for so long that she could barely remember there was any other way.

What a wonderful joke it would be. She was sure Jake would appreciate the irony of the situation. She'd run back to the security and luxury of her father's house, only to discover that everything she'd believed in, everything she relied upon, was built on a foundation of empty promises and deceit.

Darrin McLean had kept her jewelry box filled and her wardrobe up to date, but when it came to keeping her safe from harm by securing her future--well, that was another story.

A framed photo of Jenny smiled at her from the nightstand. "You deserve better than that," she whispered.

Jenny deserved a father but Megan would be damned if it would be Jake Lockwood.

#

Megan awoke the next morning with new resolve. She was there on business and not even her ex-husband would deter her from the pursuit of her goal. The Sea Goddess was a big ship. There had to be room on it for both of them. She would stick to the kitchen while Jake could have the piano bar all to himself. With a little luck and some clever planning, they'd never have to see each other again.

"Morning, Meggie." He was lounging in front of the dining room, looking tall, dark, and impossibly male. "Oversleep?"

"Shut up," she said, a sweet smile on her face.

"They stop serving in ten minutes."

"How kind of you to give me an update."

"Must be tough traveling without a maid and butler."

"I manage," she said through clenched teeth.

She swept past him into the dining room. To her dismay he fell into step beside her. "Still not a morning person."

"How observant." She poured herself a cup of coffee from the silver urn on the sideboard. The aroma was rich and fragrant. Kona blend. Celia Briscoe was going to be tough to beat.

"The cranberry muffins are even better than the coffee," Jake said with a grin. "Makes you wonder what she'll whip up for lunch."

"Heartburn," said Megan. "With a double portion for you."

Jake was still laughing as he left the dining room. He had no idea how close he'd come to death by butter knife. He'd always had the ability to punch holes in her defenses, making her conceits look foolish even to herself. At nineteen that had been nothing more than annoying. The notion that she was anything but perfect hadn't occurred to her yet. At twenty-five, however, it was a different story. She knew how it felt to fall behind