The Millionaire's Intriguing Offer

Anyone But You

Jack stared back at her from the glossy framed photograph. The jaw was squarer, the face older, but there was no doubt it was him. She didn't need to look at the name on the bio to know it was Jonathon Berrington. To her, just Jack.

"Oh, hey, that's a good one. Jonathon Berrington. Nice guy, but a total player. Let's see what he's offering." Mitsy leaned closer to read the display. "Well I'm not surprised."

"What?"

"Sail with me to my cottage in Bimini, where we'll enjoy fresh local seafood prepared by my private chef, then continue the next morning to the Florida Keys, exploring the reefs and enjoying the tropical nights." Mitsy grinned. "I bet. From what I've heard, a night with Jonathon Berrington is something worth experiencing."

"Mitsy, you are married now."

"And I wouldn't trade Trip for anything. But a girl can still use her imagination," Mitsy said, sighing.

"Come on," Bailey said. "Let's go find our table." But she allowed herself one lingering look back at Jack's photo before following Mitsy into the main ballroom.

By the time the cocktails and mingling were over and the guests were being gently herded to their tables, the distinguished crowd was already pretty well lubricated. Except for Bailey, who didn't drink. Ever. She liked to joke with Mitsy that the real reason they'd become best friends was because Bailey had been the designated driver, partier, and all around trouble stopper, using her clear head to make sure Mitsy got home safely from every college bash, bar and after hours club in Providence, New York City, or wherever else Mitsy's spur of the moment jaunts took them. The adrenaline rush had been more than enough for Bailey. And she had her own reasons for avoiding alcohol and any other potentially addictive substances.

The dinner was delicious, but Bailey figured that for $1,500 a plate it had better be. The champagne was flowing freely at the tables too, and it was apparent – once the bachelor auction began – that some of the bachelors had already overindulged, if their performance on stage was any indication. But they were not to be outdone by the succession of tipsy women who went on stage for a photo opp for their winning bid. Which in some cases involved a bit of extravagant flirting while audience members whistled and cheered. Bailey knew it was supposed to be a fun event, but she still felt things got a little out of hand. She hoped Jack was not going to get up there and make a fool of himself.

She turned back to Mitsy. "So do you actually know Jonathon Berrington?"

"Hmmm, I thought I saw you paying attention to his photo. Quite the hottie, isn't he? Want me to introduce you?"

"No, don't be ridiculous. You said he was a player, right?"

"That's his reputation. He's already dated most of the eligible single girls I grew up with."

A sudden thought occurred to her. "Did you ever . . .?"

"No, I was already with Trip before I met Jonathon. But I've heard plenty of stories. He's one of those guys who makes it clear right up front that he has no intention of anything getting serious. But he sure knows how to show a girl a good time." She leaned closer. "Danielle Branson told me he was so good in bed he absolutely ruined her for other men."

"Isn't Danielle the one who's dating the state senator who's 25 years older than her?"

"She thinks he has a real future in politics."

"Right."

"Anyway, Jonathon has a reputation for being a complete gentleman. And some kind of an incredible lover. Not to mention a brilliant lawyer. Trip says if he had to trust anyone with a sticky legal issue, it would be Jonathon Berrington."