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She’d cut him out of her life like he was cancer and never looked back. In fact, after that last week together, he hadn’t laid eyes on her until Miami. Jack had spent two years involved in the most tumultuous, crazy, passionate relationship of his life, and in the blink of an eye, it was over.
Sure they spent a good amount of their time arguing over just about anything and everything, but they’d spent an equal amount of time making up. And it was the making up part that had ruined him for any other woman, because the sex had been sizzling. Never had he been with a woman who’d responded to him the way Donovan had and even though he knew she’d felt the same, it hadn’t been enough for her.
The sad truth was that he’d been all in, only he’d been all in by himself. He’d been so far gone for her that he hadn’t realized it until it was too late.
Jack Simon had mistakenly thought he had the world by the balls. It was a sobering reality check to find out things were the total opposite.
Donovan’s career took off, and she’d ended things with a Dear John letter. A fucking letter. Even now, the thought of it made him wince.
She’d ridden the fame train all the way to the top, and there had been no room in her life for a relationship. Not even with a guy like Jack who would have given her everything.
So why the hell was he thinking about her in ways that would only bring him trouble?
He’d like to think it was because he hadn’t been laid in months and those long hot showers weren’t cutting it anymore, but truthfully he wasn’t so sure. Something was still awake between them, and he knew that she’d felt it. He’d seen the way her eyes widened and then got dark. Heard her breath hitch. Hell, he’d done the same. The chemistry between them was as hot as it was back in the day.
And now he was stuck here with her. Pretty fucking inconvenient.
“Damn,” he muttered leaning his hip against the railing, eyes now fixed on the French doors that opened onto the porch. He stared at them for so long that they blurred and as the rain continued to fall, he closed his eyes.
It had been raining the first night he’d ever laid eyes on Donovan.
In Nashville with his brother Teague who was home from assignment in Afghanistan, the two men planned on catching up and watching their cousin Maverick perform at a place just off the strip. Rick, as they called him, was a talented musician, and it would be good night.
They’d headed out around eight and by nine, the rain had started. Jack inhaled deeply, his mind wandering.
“Man, they grow them nice in this neck of the woods,” Teague said, eyeing the blonde who’d just walked into Bobby’s Idle Hour Tavern.
Jack turned to follow his cousin’s gaze, ‘cause hell, Teague rarely commented on women. Wasn’t his style. He was the quiet, observant twin to the more outgoing Tucker. But as Jack’s eyes locked onto the blonde in question, he wasn’t surprised.
She was something else, all right.
She was talking to a girlfriend, so he couldn’t get a handle on her face, but the packaging was mighty fine. She wore a plain, white cotton dress that was cut a little low on top and—Jack stood a bit taller—cut a little short on the bottom.
Nice.
The brunette standing next to him at the bar snorted. “Are you kidding me? She’s like some hick from Arkansas who thinks she can sing. Truth is, the only reason she’s allowed on stage is because she’s banging the guy who books the talent.”
Irritated, Jack ignored the woman’s comment. Why did some women feel the need to knock others down? Did they think guys thought it was an attractive trait?
Just then the blonde’s eyes met his, and Jack felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. He was hot and then cold and everything seemed so much louder, more intense…alive. With just one look he got all of that.
She was young, fresh, and—a slow gentle smile curved her generous mouth—she wasn’t looking away.
Jack set his beer on the bar and slapped his brother on the shoulder. “Sorry, Teague. This one’s mine.”
“Yeah,” Teague said with a grin. “I see that.”
The brunette, Pam or Patti or something like that, grabbed Jack’s arm and gave it a tug. “What is that girl’s appeal? I don’t get it. Every guy in here becomes a puddle of goop when she’s around. Give her another few years in the business, and she’ll look no different than the rest of them.”
Jack looked at the woman. How in hell had he spent the last half an hour entertaining the thought of getting her back to his hotel?
He pushed away from the bar without another word, shoving his way through the thick crowd, eyes back on the mystery girl. Liking the fact that her eyes were still on him.
It wasn’t until he was standing in front of her that he noticed a beat up guitar case in her hand. A host of stickers covered the thing, and if he was to believe the case, it looked as if she’d been all over the United States.
Her friend whispered something into her ear and slipped away, leaving Jack staring at the hottest woman he’d ever had the occasion to look at. She was sex and cotton candy all rolled into one delectable treat, and he swallowed hard.
His physical reaction was immediate.
