Her Bad Boy Billionaire Lover (Billionai - By Bretton, Barbara Page 0,18

easily the second time around."

"Trust me," said Megan. "My heart is safe."

She hung up the telephone, her words ringing in her ears.

Standing out there in the moonlight, it had made perfect sense. Fight fire with fire. The way to break Jake's sensual hold over her life was to give into temptation and finally write finish to a marriage that should never have been.

But what about Jenny? She owed it to Jake to tell him that he had a beautiful five year old daughter. But she also owed it to her daughter to keep her safe from heartache. She'd loved her own father with her whole heart and he'd taken that love and used it against her to further his own purposes. No one would ever do that to Jenny.

Her hand went to the four-leaf clover charm that dangled at the base of her throat. Jenny had saved up her allowance for months in order to buy that charm for Megan and it meant more to her than the pearl chokers and trips to Paris that had been part and parcel of her own girlhood. "You're the best mommy in the whole world," Jenny had said, flinging her arms around Megan's neck.

Not yet, thought Megan, eyes filling with tears, but I'm working on it.

#

"McLean did a damn good job," said Ian Macmillan. "I didn't know The Moveable Feast would finish that strong."

"I agree," said Jake. They were in his office, holding their late night meeting. "She bested Celia Briscoe. Walters will have to go some."

"Did you see the way she had the crew eating out of her hand? Even Crowley gave one hundred percent."

Jake grunted something noncommittal. Last night he'd exposed too much to his associate. He wasn't about to make that mistake again. The truth was, Megan had dazzled everybody with her abilities. He found it difficult to equate the spoiled brat he'd been married to with the accomplished woman he'd watched perform tonight. Ian was waxing enthusiastic about the innovative way Megan had decorated the al fresco dining area. Jake nodded and kept his attention focused on the spreadsheets on his desk.

She'd always been beautiful. Now she was accomplished as well. He wanted to know what had brought about the change.

"Look," he said, stifling a fake yawn. "Why don't we call it a night and pick it up again same time tomorrow?"

"You forget something?" Macmillan said. "We're meeting Haines and Ogilvie on La Mirada tomorrow morning for an update."

Jake swore softly. "Count me out."

"The hell I will. We've come this far, Lockwood. Don't blow it now."

They both knew that, unlike Jake's other enterprises, the Tropicale corporation was a volatile mixture of personalities. All it would take was the touch of a match to blow it all sky high.

"Damn it to hell," he swore, flinging his pen against the wall. "I'll be there. But let's make it early."

Macmillan beat a quick exit. Smart man. Jake's moods were legendary.

As president of Tropicale, he couldn't reneg on his associates. Businesses weren't built that way. Even rebels couldn't get away with shortchanging their partners. He'd worked long and hard to build a company that would reflect the way he believed a business should be run--blowing off the meeting with Haines and the other money men wasn't part of it.

But, damn it, neither was giving up his one chance to burn Megan from his memory forever.

He reached for the room phone. He could call her and let her know. Maybe re-schedule their rendezvous for the next day in St. Denis. He put the phone back down. Not good enough. He needed to see her, smell her, touch her.

So walk down to her suite and tell her.

He paced the room like a caged wildcat. That was the simplest, easiest way to remedy it.

Yeah, but what if someone sees you standing in front of her door?

He'd not only blow her reputation, he'd undermine Tropicale as well. His eye was caught and held by the ornate carving on the paneled wall behind his bed. A grin tilted the ends of his mouth.

There was another way, however, and no one would ever know.

#

Candlelight. Wine. A bubblebath.

Megan sank deeper into the marble tub. Jasmine-scented bubbles tickled the underside of her chin while soft music floated in from the bedroom.

Why did people take showers, she mused, raising a lazy arm toward the ceiling and watching drops of water slide back down her arm. Showers were so impersonal, so quick.

Bubble baths, however, were intimate, time-consuming, decadent and sensual--everything you could possibly