The Millionaire's Intriguing Offer

Interference

Oh, shit. Did I seriously? Bailey felt her mouth go dry. I guess I did.

Maybe she could bluff it out.

"Did I? I don't remember."

From the expression on his face, apparently he wasn't buying it.

"Bailey, why would you call me Jack?"

"Um, isn't Jack a pretty common nickname for John or Jonathan?"

He studied her, and the silence made her nervous.

"I mean," she continued, "you know, Jack Kennedy, famous president, right?"

"It's just not where most people usually go. It wouldn't have surprised me if you called me Jon."

She bit her lip, then forced herself to relax. If he hadn't figured out who she was by now, this little slip up in names probably wasn't going to make the difference.

"Is there a problem?"

"No, it just . . . surprised me. I actually did go by Jack for awhile when I was a kid, but only with my closest friends, and it's been a long time since anyone called me that." He gave a little sideways grin. "My mother didn't approve."

"That's an odd thing to disapprove about."

"You haven't met my mother."

But I have, Bailey thought, remembering the meticulously groomed woman who had always stared down at her with disapproval if she was helping her grandfather with the gardening. A woman who looked at her like she was no better than the dirt she worked in. A woman who . . . no, Bailey didn't even want to remember that day.

Jack was still talking. "My mother prefers Jonathon. She tolerates JB, but would never approve of Jack." He smiled. "Which is why for a period of time I insisted on being called Jack."

"Your mother sounds controlling."

"You have no idea."

"Well." She looked down at her hands for a moment, at a loss as to what to say next, then reached for the handle to open the car door. "Thank you for the ride.'

"Any time."

Bailey got out of the car, and Jonathon did as well, walking to the rear to lift her bags out of the trunk as the doorman approached to collect them. Bailey turned back as she was about to follow the doorman in, and surprised herself.

"I think I'll call you Jack from now on. It suits you."

He leaned against the car. "You can call me Jack on one condition."

"Oh? What's that?"

"Have dinner with me next week."

"I'm just starting a new job. I don't think I'll have time -"

"Friday night. We'll go someplace casual. You can tell me about your first week at work."

"Are you always this persistent?"

"I'm used to getting what I want."

"In other words, you're spoiled and entitled."

He put a hand over his heart. "You wound me, Bailey." Then his expression changed from humorous to dangerously sexy, and a blast of desire hit her like a hot fist in her gut.

How was she supposed to stick to her resolve to avoid him when he could make her feel this way with a single look?

"If all we had was a good time in Bimini, Bailey, then I'm fine just letting it go at that." He was looking directly into her eyes and she found it impossible to shift her gaze away. "I don't think that's all it was," he continued, and she felt her heart pounding. "If there was something more, then I think we'd be foolish not to explore it."