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He arched an eyebrow and lord help her but she wanted to punch him in the throat.
“He was pretty clear, Donnie. Emergency only.”
“This is an emergency,” she said, taking another step, mind frantically thinking of a way out.
“Really. This should be good.”
She was nearly to the patio. “You bet.” Man, her Arkansas twang was up front and center, which was a testament to just how upset and scared she was.
“Are you going to share what exactly constitutes an emergency in the life of Donovan James these days?” The sarcasm, oh it was heavy, and Donovan made a face as she jumped up onto the top step, barely avoiding a yelp because her damn foot was throbbing by this point.
Whirling around, she glared down at the only man who’d ever managed to press every single goddamn button she owned. And Jesus. H. Christ, did he have to look so damn sexy gazing up at her?
“I can pretty much guaran-damn-tee-ya that when they come back in three days, there will only be one of us left standing, and it sure as hell won’t be you. If you don’t call that an emergency, I don’t know what is.”
Chest heaving and mouth suddenly dry, she licked her lips and waited for him to respond. But seconds ticked by, and Jack did nothing but lean against the bottom rail and stare up at her, eyes so dark they looked like pools of slick oil.
Slowly they moved over her again and, oh God, her nipples thrust forward as if saying hello. Suddenly aware that she was practically naked standing there in her bikini, she crossed her arms across her chest and clutched her bag a little closer.
The air was alive with something. Something hot and thick and sinful. Let’s not forget wanton and needful and sensual. And it was all of those things that she needed to stay the hell away from.
Even if she wanted it so badly. The ache inside her expanded at the thought.
Trying like hell to keep her breathing normal and struggling to keep her face neutral, Donovan almost didn’t hear that little catch in his breath. The one that told her Jack was right there with her. He felt every little bit of that ‘something’ that she did, and he was just as affected.
Donovan thought of Cooper’s ultimatum. How was she going to survive three days when the only thing she wanted was right here in front of her, and he happened to be the only thing she could never have?
“You’re bleeding,” he said slowly.
“What?” Confused, she stared down at Jack, the sadness inside her near to bursting. That damn lump was back, clogging her throat, and she had to clear it in order to speak. “Bleeding?”
Jack took two steps up just as several big, fat drops of rain fell onto her face. He was eye to eye with her, and that male scent that was all him washed over her, infusing her cells with a need so great it was painful.
“Your foot.”
Donovan followed his gaze down and stared at the blood pooling underneath her arch. It was already dark, having lost its brightness as soon as the air hit it. Funny, the blood looked dull and lifeless, as if whatever it was that made blood life-giving was dead inside of her.
She had a feeling that if she didn’t get this straightened out—if in fact she was stuck here with Jack Simon for three days—her heart would look exactly the same when it was all said and done.
Old. Dull.
And utterly crushed.
Chapter Five
* * *
Jack decided exactly one second after locking his gaze onto Donovan that his sister had a death wish, because right about now, he wanted to wring Grace’s neck. What the hell had she been thinking?
His jaw clamped tight as he watched Donovan spin around and hobble the last few steps, throwing open the door of the luxurious guest house and then slamming it shut behind her.
It was raining pretty good now, and for a few seconds, he wasn’t sure what to do. He tore off his ball cap because it did nothing to keep his head dry, and tossed it along with his bags onto the covered part of the porch.
He took the last couple of stairs and walked the length of the house, his eyes on the sea and horizon. There wasn’t a trace left of blue sky, and the angry clouds that rolled overhead suited his mood. So much for a relaxing getaway.
Pissed off, he shoved his hands into the front pockets of his cargos, eyes narrowed, mouth tight. He didn’t know who he was more angry with—Grace for tricking two adults into spending time together when clearly it was a bad choice for both of them, or himself for taking one look at Donovan and wanting her more than he could ever remember.
Pathetic.
