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“Are you going to share that one with me?” he asked, his voice a little thicker than he’d like to admit.
Long wisps of hair danced in the evening breeze as those eyes continued to regard him in silence. She licked her bottom lip and damn if he didn’t feel a stirring of lust well up inside him. Some things never changed, and this woman had always tapped into that He-Man part of him. The part that wanted nothing more than to bend her over the table to their right, so that he could bury himself inside her.
“I’m here for Cooper.”
Wait. What?
“Cooper,” he repeated, all thoughts of lust fleeing as he glared at the woman in front of him. A woman who used to belong to him but now….
“You’re here for my cousin?” Something dark and heavy swirled inside him, and Jack clenched his hands into fists.
Donovan nodded. “You know what they say, Jack.”
“No,” he managed to spit out. “I don’t. Why don’t you enlighten me?”
Donovan’s eyes flashed. “Well you should since y’all fed those lies to the rags. The ones that said I’m nothing but a….” She cocked her head to the side, chest heaving and for a moment, he caught a glimpse of something painful.
“They sai
d I was nothing but a man-eater intent on making my way through the Simon clan. I think one of the stories said I, uh, liked a different man every night.”
“Donnie,” he said, feeling like a shit for the first time.
“Don’t call me that,” she said, chin up.
For a moment, there was silence, and then she spoke, her voice full of smoke and whiskey. “I guess it doesn’t matter that the only Simon I’ve ever had is the one who makes no bones about the fact that I’m beneath him. Did you tell your people to spread those nasty things? What was it your press guy said? Ridiculous notion?” She shrugged and mimicked his press guy perfectly. “The up-and-coming senator-to-be and the white trash country singer from Arkansas. Now there’s a hit song if I ever heard one.”
“Donovan,” he said roughly. His throat was tight, and the urge to hit something was getting stronger by the minute. He’d stopped that shit as soon as the stories started spiraling out of control. He’d not authorized a pack of lies, and he’d fired the person who’d spread them.
But Donovan was done, and he never got the chance to explain. She slipped past Jack and just before disappearing inside the venue, she gave him one parting shot. “Thing is darlin’, I’ve decided that I don’t mind having myself another Simon or two, and Cooper will do just fine.”
Moments ticked by. Moments where Jack didn’t see anything but black, because the anger inside him was that strong. He didn’t move for a long time. Not until he heard her voice, that raspy, whisky soaked voice that slid across skin and leeched into bone. She was singing, and though he couldn’t make out the words, the notes were all minor. Sad notes. Melancholy notes.
“You okay?” Tucker asked quietly from the shadows. Jack must really be off his game because he hadn’t heard his brother approach.
“Not even close,” he replied.
Tucker just nodded. “You want to bail? I’ll come up with an excuse.”
Jack couldn’t lie. The thought was tempting, but he shook his head. “Nah, I’ll be fine.”
He squared his shoulders and followed Tucker back inside.
Chapter Two
* * *
Donovan James should have refused Grace Simon’s request to perform at the fundraiser. In fact she had, but Grace was a persistent young woman and called again and again and again. She’d eventually worn Donovan down and finally she’d given in and agreed to come to Florida.
What in hell had she been thinking? Oh. Right. She hadn’t been thinking and just like her mama liked to say, if you don’t use your brain first, nothing falls into place. Donovan knew that if this blew up in her face, she had no one to blame but herself. And let’s face it, things usually had a way of getting out of hand when she acted without thinking.
Born under a full moon on a Friday the 13th in October, things had been blowing up in her face for as long as she could remember.
Sweet Jesus, but she shouldn’t have taken Grace’s call the week before.
Except it was hard for her to refuse Grace Simon anything. And even harder to stay away from Jack, something that had been building since she’d run into him a few months back. She’d gone, what, five years without contact? Five years without touching him or seeing him or even hearing his voice. And then one night, one wrong and stupid night had blown everything to shit, and now she couldn’t stop thinking about him.
Couldn’t stop remembering the feel of him. The smell of him. The way the corners of his eyes crinkled when she made him laugh. Or the way they would darken and smolder when he was inside her.
