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Donovan felt him before she saw him.
Turning around slowly, her gaze landed on the man emerging from shadows that blanketed the corner of her suite.
Jack Simon looked like a hunter, his dark eyes glittering with an all too familiar dislike as he strode toward her. It was a look she was hoping never to see again, but after the stunt she just pulled, what did she expect?
He wore faded jeans, a white shirt unbuttoned enough that she could glimpse his impressive chest, with the sleeves rolled up exposing tanned forearms. With feet shoved into Birkenstocks, Jack was casual and dangerous and sexy as hell. Already her fast beating heart was making her weak, and the need to touch him was so strong she had to force herself to stand still.
Throat tight, she couldn’t speak. Not yet anyway.
“Donovan,” he said, his tone conversational. But she caught the hint of winter that coated his voice, and she shuddered when his eyes made their way from the top of her head down to her bare toes.
It took a bit, but Donovan was able to form a somewhat coherent thought. “How did you...why are…” But her voice trailed off as things came into focus.
How? He was a Simon and nothing he did surprised her. Why? That question scared the crap out of her.
“We’re not done,” Jack said, that hint of danger back in his voice. His eyes were flat, and a shiver shot through her. “We’re far from done.”
Shit. Damn. And fuck.
Chapter Thirteen
* * *
Jack watched Donovan closely. She was pale, and there were circles under her eyes which told him she wasn’t sleeping too well. Maybe it wasn’t right, but that thought gave him some pleasure. With her hair loose and the lighting dim, her delicate features were much more pronounced. Her feet were bare, and she looked fragile as hell, but he knew that Donovan James was about as far from fragile as you could get.
In fact, if she was a man he was pretty sure she’d be packing a pair of steel balls between her legs. He wasn’t going to let her fool him again.
He shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and leaned against the white leather sofa.
“How was the taping?” he asked.
If she was surprised at his question, she didn’t show it. “How did you know about that?”
“I made it my business to know.”
She ignored him and those invisible steel balls were well in play as she crossed to the kitchenette and helped herself to a glass of water. Donovan took a sip and traced the moisture along the rim with her forefinger as if it was the most interesting thing she’d ever seen.
“What are we doing here, Jack?”
He liked this. Cutting to the chase was a good thing. He was done playing games.
“Are you on the pill? Using any type of contraceptive?”
Her head shot up so fast Jack was surprised her neck didn’t crack. Mouth open, it took a few seconds for her to respond.
“What the hell kind of question is that?” Her words were sharp and he knew that she was upset. Good. He wanted her off balance.
She slammed her glass onto the dark granite with enough force that it should have shattered. Donovan marched toward him but stopped a few feet away, chest heaving, cheeks red and that silky hair flying all over the place.
“It’s a valid one from where I’m standing. Are you going to answer it?” Jack pushed off from the sofa, his anger barely in check. “If memory serves, the pill wasn’t your friend when we were together. You went off it three months in because it made you feel like shit.”
“I…” She blew a strand of hair off her face. “That’s none of your—“
He took the last few strides until he was inches from her. “How many times did we have sex?”
Her bottom lip trembled, and he supposed he should feel like a bastard but he didn’t. All he could think about was the fact that she’d used him to get her rocks off and had the audacity to blow him off with a fucking note. Again.
Not this time.
