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The ache that had been lingering for days, weeks, (months if she was being honest) rattled and hummed, making it hard to breathe. Would it ever go away? Would she ever be free of Jack Simon? Of a life that wasn’t meant to be?
A groan slid from her mouth as she rested her head against the cool concrete wall. She’d hightailed it out of the grand ballroom as soon as she’d sung her last note and had been nursing a glass of whiskey for the last ten minutes. She couldn’t hide out here on the patio forever—she knew that—but she could at least get her shit together before facing Jack again.
God, why the hell had she mentioned Cooper Simon? That little white lie was going to bite her in the ass. She could feel it.
Get a grip, Donnie.
Okay, she would act like nothing mattered, especially the Simons—as if she was only here for a good time. That’s what the press liked to believe anyway, so why not act the part? She’d been doing a pretty good job of it for the last five years.
A cool breeze swept in from the ocean, and she closed her eyes, letting the quiet Florida night wash over her. Donovan wasn’t sure how long she stood there, eyes closed, listening to the night sounds around her, so when she heard a voice, she jumped and spilled whiskey down the front of her dress.
“Shit,” she muttered, eyes flying open as she gazed into the dark, a few more curse words coloring the night as she narrowed her eyes.
“Well, hell, darlin’ that doesn’t sound real lady-like.” Cooper Simon stepped forward, a slow wicked grin on his handsome face.
Relief flooded her. It wasn’t Jack. Thank God. She wasn’t ready for him yet. Hell, at this point she wasn’t exactly sure what she was ready for, but for the most part Cooper Simon was harmless. So she’d told Jack a small fib. It was only meant to divert him from the fact that Jack was the reason she was here.
Cooper and Donovan had never exactly been friends, but then they’d never exactly been enemies either. She knew he wasn’t a fan, he’d made that more than clear the last time she’d seen him with Maverick, but she could handle him.
“I’m no lady, and you know it,” she quipped lightly, opting for flirtation over confrontation.
“According to some people, I know more than I should about you,” Cooper replied, that soft southern drawl rolling under his words. It was a lot different than the harsher twang of Donovan’s folk, and the first time she’d heard Jack Simon speak, she’d been pretty much done for. The Simon clan might call Florida home, but they’d never given up their southern Louisiana roots.
Dabbing at her expensive Armani, Donovan glanced up sharply. “Excuse me?”
His smile deepened. The man was womanizer. He was also breathtaking and dangerous and sexy as hell, and a whole list of things any sane woman should stay away from. The only problem being, all of those things were what most women wanted.
Too bad such a nice package would always bite a girl in the ass.
Thankfully such a nice package did nothing for her.
“I just had an interesting chat with my cousin,” he said slowly.
“You did.” Shit. Here we go.
“I did.”
“And I care because?”
“Well for starters, you were the topic of conversation.”
Her heart was beating faster and faster. “Interesting,” she managed to say without sounding like an idiot.
He nodded. “Yeah. Real interesting.”
“Huh,” Donovan said, pushing away from the wall. “What’s on Jack’s mind?”
Cooper slid his hands into the front pockets of his pants. “Now why would you think I was talking about Jack? There’s a boatload of Simons in there. I could have been talking to Beau or Tucker or…”
“What did Jack say?” she asked softly, a hint of danger in her voice.
Cooper watched her for a few moments. “What game are you playing Donovan? I sure as hell don’t know you in the carnal sense. Sloppy seconds aren’t my style.”
“That’s not what I’ve heard.”
“People change.”
“Do they? Or do they just lie to themselves?”
