Her Bad Boy Billionaire Lover (Billionai - By Bretton, Barbara Page 0,22

joined then leaned back against the headboard. "Good," he said after a moment. "I'm glad we understand each other."

"Good," she repeated, tugging the sheet up under her chin. "Not that there was ever any doubt."

"Just because two people are great in the sack is no reason to pretend they can make a marriage work."

"Only a fool would think that."

"That's where we went wrong the last time. We should have had an affair."

"Marriage was a ridiculous idea," said Megan, feeling unreasonably sad. "Everyone said so."

He met her eyes. "Especially your father."

"I don't want to talk about my father."

He rubbed the cheek she'd slapped during their first encounter on deck. "I seem to remember something to that effect."

"I'm sorry," she said stiffly. "I shouldn't have hit you."

"So what's your old man up to these days?"

"I said I don't want to talk about him."

"He must hate seeing his little princess out there mingling with the commoners."

"Jake--" Her voice held a warning.

He ignored it. "Come on, Meggie. I'd be lying if I pretended I gave a damn about the man. I bet he still hates me as much as I--"

"He's dead." The words hung there in the air between them.

"I get the message," he said, not getting it at all. "I'll back off."

She forced herself to meet his eyes. "My father is dead, Jake."

His expression didn't change but she heard his slow intake of breath. "When did he--"

"Five and a half years ago."

"Heart attack?"

Dangerous territory. "He drowned."

"Darrin McLean? Your dad won a silver medal at the '56 Olympics."

Holding the sheet to her breasts, she swung her legs from the bed. "I don't want to talk about this anymore." She started for the bathroom.

He reached across the bed and grabbed her wrist. "Megan...."

She tried to pull away from him but he held her fast. "Don't tell me you're sorry because I won't believe you. You hated my father."

"And he hated me." His grip on her wrist tightened. "I am sorry, Meggie. For you. Your old man was an arrogant, selfish bastard but he had one redeeming feature: he loved you more than anything in the world."

She thought she would die from the pain that gripped her heart. There was one thing Darrin McLean had loved more than his daughter and that was his own comfort. But she would rather walk barefoot on hot coals than tell Jake the truth.

Tears burned behind her lids and she looked away.

"Meggie?" His voice was uncharacteristically gentle. "I don't want to hurt you."

She shook her head. "You didn't. It's just--" She stopped. All she could offer him was a lie because the truth was still too devastating for her to comprehend.

Clumsily he stroked her hair. "He was a tough act to live up to," he said. "I would've sold my soul to be able to take care of you the way he did."

"He was my hero," she said, voice breaking. "I thought he would live forever."

He was quiet, thinking of the despair she must have felt when McLean died. "You should've called me. You shouldn't have gone through it alone."

She said nothing but the look on her face spoke volumes. "I guess a piano player wouldn't have fit in with that crowd, would it, Meggie?"

"I didn't say that."

"No," he admitted, "you didn't. But you're not denying it." He could imagine the scene after McLean's death; his cronies must have gathered around Megan like vultures around a corpse.

She straightened her shoulders, tilted that stubborn chin. "What could you have done for me if I had called you, Jake? It's not like you'd know how to handle the situation."

Now's the time, Lockwood. The piano player owned the company and the yacht and more fabulous things than she'd ever dreamed of. If he was looking for shock value, she'd handed him the opportunity of a lifetime.

But the words wouldn't come. There was something about the look in her eyes, the oddly affecting set of her mouth that kept him from knocking her back with the truth.

She drew the sheet more tightly around her. "We were idiots to think going to bed together would make a difference."

He stroked her wrist with his thumb. "Maybe we didn't do it right."

She laughed despite herself. "It doesn't get much more right than that, Jake."

"Maybe it wasn't as good as we thought it was."

"Sleight-of-hand."

"An illusion?"

He released his grip on her wrist. She didn't move away. Rising from the bed he drew her into his arms.

Megan knew it was as crazy as it was dangerous. That this was the