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But Donovan didn’t hear that question. Her mind was spinning a mile a minute and the more she thought about the double standard, the more angry she got. “You’re like this…this golden god who’s going to wave his magic wand and become the next political dynamo in Washington. I bet half of them believe you’ll cure cancer or negotiate world peace. Christ, I bet they think rainbows live in your butt, and we both know that isn’t true. I’ve never read a negative story about you. It’s insane and so not fair.”
He was smiling, and god help her, but every single one of Donovan’s lady parts was suddenly alive and buzzing. Her breasts felt heavy, and if he wasn’t looking directly at her, she’d have snuck a hand between her legs. The ache there had been dull and throbbing all night, but right now? With her blood boiling and naked-Jack-chest inches from her?
She was about to explode.
“What’s so funny?” she snapped.
“Nice to know you’re keeping tabs on me.”
“I’m not.”
She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her hair and clamped her mouth shut. No point in getting into it with Jack. She’d never win that game. He’d always been good with his words.
And his hands.
A silent groan echoed inside her head.
God, and his tongue .
He set down the cooler. “I made you a sandwich and there’s a couple of cold beers in here, too.” He regarded her for a few seconds. “I found your stash of chocolate, so I tossed one of those in.”
Surprised, Donovan, glanced at the red cooler. “You didn’t have to…I mean, I was going to head back for lunch.”
“I know I didn’t have to, and I also know you ran out of the house as soon as I woke up.”
“I didn’t…” Her voice trailed off at the look in his eyes. Jack’s bullshit meter was kicking in, and she knew it.
“Donnie, we’re stuck here for a few days. We may as well make the best of it. We’re both adults.” He shrugged. “Let’s forget about the history and just try to get along. Do you think you can do that?”
“I’m not sleeping with you.”
Okay. Where the hell did that come from? So much for the Oscars. With one panicked move, Donovan was up for a Rotten Tomato award and man, did she deserve it.
If Jack was amused by her statement, he didn’t show it. In fact, he ignored it completely which confused the hell out of Donovan.
“I’m gonna get some snorkeling in. You wanna join me?”
She was shaking her head before she could form an answer. “Uh, no. My foot is swollen and I’m…well.” She held up her book. “I’m going to try and make a dent in this.”
“Okay.”
She pulled her Gucci glasses back onto her nose, relieved that she had some kind of shelter from those intense eyes and settled back onto her beach chair.
Jack turned without another word and for as many seconds as it took for him to stride back to the water, she had a magnificent view of his broad shoulders, naked back and tapered waist.
She watched him get his gear on and head into the water, his body fluid and strong and….
She groaned, the throb between her legs insistent and her mouth dry, her hand slipped beneath her bikini bottom when he went under the water. She was slick and hot, full of need. Images of Jack above her, inside her, mouth at her breast and hands on her body assaulted Donovan’s mind. She sank lower into the chair so there was no way he could see what she was doing.
As Jack Simon crested the water and swam out along the coral reef her fingers gave her some relief. She rubbed and caressed and pressed into that part of her that was engorged and swollen with need.
But it was a hollow feeling. An orgasm by her own hand didn’t hold a candle to the kind of response Jack could coax from her with just a look. And as she shattered against her palm, a single tear wove its way down her cheek.
She would never have that again. At twenty-nine, that was a sobering thought.
Chapter Seven
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