Her Bad Boy Billionaire Lover (Billionai - By Bretton, Barbara Page 0,38

it doesn't matter who set it in motion. Jake is Jenny's father and you know where to find him. Do you really think you'll be able to look at your little girl and still keep them apart?"

#

It didn't take long for word to get around the ship that Jake was one of Tropicale's owners. He barricaded himself in his office with a bottle of Scotch and set about getting roaring drunk. Unfortunately he'd never been good at getting drunk. Maybe it was because he was the child of a world-class drunk. Or maybe he'd been cursed with a cast iron stomach. No matter how much he drank, or how quickly, he never quite managed to achieve that state of blissful numbness where all of your problems disappeared, if only temporarily.

There wasn't enough Scotch in the world to erase Megan from his mind. He knew that now for a fact. She was part of him, burned into his soul for eternity. He didn't like it. He'd pay the devil to change it. But there was nothing he could do about it.

"You blew it, mate." He slumped on the couch and took a slug straight from the bottle. He should have told her what he was about right from the start. How tough was it to say, "I own the yacht. I own the company." He didn't blame her for being angry. From her perspective it must have looked like he'd do anything to get her in bed, including lie.

And if he was being honest, he'd have to admit that's exactly what he'd done.

The chemistry between them had been so fierce, so hot, that he'd been powerless before the dark call of his blood. "It's not over yet, Meggie," he said, taking another slug of Scotch. "Not by a long shot."

He'd let her walk out on him once before but this time was different. Whatever he'd done, however he'd hurt her, this time he wasn't going to let her go without a fight.

#

Ingrid's words came back to haunt Megan later that evening.

She was giving Jenny her evening bath and shampoo, grateful to be settled back within the comforting embrace of routine. This was where she belonged. Safe in her tiny rented house with her little girl, with the rest of the world an arm's length away.

"Okay, sweetie, close your eyes while I rinse your hair." She tested the spray against her arm then adjusted the cold water.

Jenny shook her head, sending shampoo bubbles flying. "Not yet."

Megan placed her hands on her hips and summoned up a frown. "I know what you're up to, young lady, and it's not going to work. Bedtime is still seven o'clock." This was an old battle and a familiar one.

Jenny's perfect little features slid into a scowl and for a moment the resemblance to Jake was so intense it stole Megan's breath away. "Courtney can stay up to watch The Simpsons on Thursday and Danielle can watch Dinosaurs."

"We've been through this before, Jenny. Bedtime is seven o'clock in this house. No exceptions."

The little girl pouted while Megan rinsed her hair. Megan ignored her daughter's petulance and whistled one of the songs from Beauty and the Beast as she wrapped the child in a fluffy pink bath towel then helped her out of the tub. It felt so wonderful to be home again that not even Jenny's mood could dim her happiness.

"If you put on your pajamas by yourself, I'll let you have some chocolate milk before you go to sleep."

"I don't want chocolate milk."

"You love chocolate milk."

Jenny fixed her with a look. "Kristin's daddy lets her play Nintendo until ten o'clock." The look sharpened. "If I had a daddy, he'd let me stay up and watch ."

"Well, too bad for you," said Megan in a casual tone of voice. "You have a mommy and she says lights out at seven o'clock."

Jenny thrust her lower lip forward. "I don't like you anymore."

"I'm sorry to hear that but it doesn't change anything, Jenny."

"Daddies let you stay up as late as you want to."

Oh God, Megan groaned inwardly. Why tonight? For almost six years the daddy topic had been of little interest to Jenny and now, tonight, it was suddenly number one on her hit parade.

She sat down on the edge of the bathtub and rested her hands on the little girl's fragile shoulders. "Jenny, look at me." Jenny's gaze drifted to the window, to the door, then finally toward Megan. "Do you remember when we talked about why some