Her Bad Boy Billionaire Lover (Billionai - By Bretton, Barbara Page 0,3

said Megan, pointing to a trio of swivel chairs against the starboard wall of windows.

"God," Val breathed. "That view...."

The beauty of the moon's crystallized reflection on the calm black sea was so achingly romantic that Megan quickly turned away. Some things were meant to be shared.

Small candles burned at each table, providing a soft and sensual glow. The dark richness of the brandy, the lush music from the quartet in the far corner of the room--it all conspired to remind her of another time and place when life had seemed so simple.

Even now, on a yacht headed toward the open sea, light years away from the life she and Jake had once shared, she found her thoughts drawn back to a time that no longer existed. Lazy Sundays in bed and nights of ecstasy beyond a woman's wildest dreams. But there was more than that, much more. There were days when she wondered if maybe, just maybe, they could have made their marriage work. He didn't want to hear about white picket fences and a bouquet of beautiful babies. His background hadn't taught him how to dream those particular dreams.

"A beautiful boat, Meggie," he'd said to her so many times. "With only the two of us for company...."

"Or three of us," she'd said, thinking of a baby with his golden eyes.

No babies. No children to tie them down to real life. He wasn't father material and never would be.

She smoothed her hair off her forehead with an impatient gesture. For all she knew Jake was back in Australia or exploring Timbuktu, chasing crocodiles or beautiful blondes--whatever his current pleasure might be. Certainly the last place he'd be was on a cushy cruise with a bunch of overfed, over-eager businessmen.

No, that had never been Jake's style.

He'd been her poet, her dark knight in shining armor, the renegade lover of her girlish dreams. "One day we'll sail around the world," he'd promised her. Just the two of them, naked beneath a blanket of stars. His dreams had been as wild and unbridled as his lovemaking, and every bit as seductive.

With all her heart and soul she'd wanted to believe he could make the facts of their daily life vanish. But she'd been too young, too spoiled, so accustomed to being indulged that she simply didn't know how to believe in him.

#

She was nineteen when they met, Darrin McLean's headstrong daughter. Born and raised in the rarified atmosphere of Palm Beach, rubbing shoulders with Whitneys and Posts, she had never seen the other side of life.

The wild side.

She'd wanted to kick free the traces of privilege and a long weekend seemed the answer to her prayers. Innocent, petulant, thoroughly spoiled, she'd been more girl than woman, oddly shielded from reality by the cushion of her father's wealth.

Key West was everything she'd hoped it would be: slightly tacky, somewhat decadent, filled with possibilities.

Volleyball, however, wasn't one of the possibilities she was interested in pursuing. Instead she'd stretched out on a yellow beach towel, eyes closed, listening to the sounds of the ocean slapping against the shore and the excited laughter of her friends as they played volleyball down the beach.

She'd been drifting into a light doze when he approached.

"Are you asleep?" His voice was rough honey pouring over her. The accent was both foreign and familiar, that blend of British inflection and American energy that was pure Australian.

Her eyes fluttered open. "Not now, thanks to you."

"Good. Sleeping's a waste of time."

She propped herself up on her elbow and took a good look at the man who stood in front of her. Nothing about him was familiar or comforting. He had danger written all over him, from his broad shoulders to the rippling muscles of his chest and belly. Certainly she'd never seen his type on the air-brushed beaches of Palm. Backlit by the fierce sun, he glowed with an aura of raw strength and sexuality.

Ah yes. This was danger. A walk on the wild side of love. A delicious ripple of excitement began in the pit of her stomach.

Smiling with the confidence peculiar to a girl who had never known rejection, she tossed her hair back from her face. This was a game she knew and understood. The parry and thrust of flirtation. The delicate art of promises no one expected you to keep.

He dropped to his knees next to her and she caught the sun-warmed scent of his skin. His eyes were an odd shade of deep amber, framed by spiky dark lashes