The Family Simon: Jack Part 3

Grace. Of course. Who else but a young woman whose heart had been broken, yet again, and who believed (wrongly as Donovan tried to tell her many times over)that Donovan and Jack belonged together. She'd obviously set up this whole thing, thinking that a romantic getaway would somehow kickstart an affair that was long dead.

"s.h.i.+t," she murmured, eyes moving to the small fleck on the horizon. Roger and Mary were so far out they'd disappear from view at any moment. She couldn't stay here with Jack. No way in h.e.l.l that was happening.

"Don't worry about it," she said turning toward the guest house. It was perched higher up, among a stand of palm trees. "I'll just pack my stuff and when Roger and Mary get back, I'll have him take me to the mainland."

She started forward, marching up the small incline and ignoring the pain in her foot.

"Not gonna happen," Jack said from somewhere behind her.

She froze but refused to turn around. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Roger told me that he and his wife had a family commitment and would be off the island for three or four days unless there was an emergency."

Three days? No 'effing way.

"I don't care. I'm calling him right now."

c.r.a.p. With what? She didn't have a cell and even if she did, she didn't have a phone number for Roger.

"Not gonna happen," he repeated. "Their daughter went into labor, and it's their first grandchild."

"Are you kidding me?" Hands bunched at her side, she swore a blue streak that would make a sailor proud.

"Unbelievable," Jack said. "You haven't changed one bit. You're still a self-centered-"

"b.i.t.c.h," she finished for him.

The thing of it was, he was right. She did sound like a spoiled rotten child, but this was all about self preservation. She couldn't stay here with him.

"Do you have the number?"

"I do."

"Are you going to give it to me?"

"Depends."

"On what?"

He arched an eyebrow and lord help her but she wanted to punch him in the throat.

"He was pretty clear, Donnie. Emergency only."

"This is an emergency," she said, taking another step, mind frantically thinking of a way out.

"Really. This should be good."

She was nearly to the patio. "You bet." Man, her Arkansas tw.a.n.g was up front and center, which was a testament to just how upset and scared she was.

"Are you going to share what exactly const.i.tutes an emergency in the life of Donovan James these days?" The sarcasm, oh it was heavy, and Donovan made a face as she jumped up onto the top step, barely avoiding a yelp because her d.a.m.n foot was throbbing by this point.

Whirling around, she glared down at the only man who'd ever managed to press every single G.o.dd.a.m.n b.u.t.ton she owned. And Jesus. H. Christ, did he have to look so d.a.m.n s.e.xy gazing up at her?

"I can pretty much guaran-d.a.m.n-tee-ya that when they come back in three days, there will only be one of us left standing, and it sure as h.e.l.l won't be you. If you don't call that an emergency, I don't know what is."

Chest heaving and mouth suddenly dry, she licked her lips and waited for him to respond. But seconds ticked by, and Jack did nothing but lean against the bottom rail and stare up at her, eyes so dark they looked like pools of slick oil.

Slowly they moved over her again and, oh G.o.d, her nipples thrust forward as if saying h.e.l.lo. Suddenly aware that she was practically naked standing there in her bikini, she crossed her arms across her chest and clutched her bag a little closer.

The air was alive with something. Something hot and thick and sinful. Let's not forget wanton and needful and sensual. And it was all of those things that she needed to stay the h.e.l.l away from.

Even if she wanted it so badly. The ache inside her expanded at the thought.

Trying like h.e.l.l to keep her breathing normal and struggling to keep her face neutral, Donovan almost didn't hear that little catch in his breath. The one that told her Jack was right there with her. He felt every little bit of that 'something' that she did, and he was just as affected.

Donovan thought of Cooper's ultimatum. How was she going to survive three days when the only thing she wanted was right here in front of her, and he happened to be the only thing she could never have?

"You're bleeding," he said slowly.

"What?" Confused, she stared down at Jack, the sadness inside her near to bursting. That d.a.m.n lump was back, clogging her throat, and she had to clear it in order to speak. "Bleeding?"

Jack took two steps up just as several big, fat drops of rain fell onto her face. He was eye to eye with her, and that male scent that was all him washed over her, infusing her cells with a need so great it was painful.

"Your foot."

Donovan followed his gaze down and stared at the blood pooling underneath her arch. It was already dark, having lost its brightness as soon as the air hit it. Funny, the blood looked dull and lifeless, as if whatever it was that made blood life-giving was dead inside of her.

She had a feeling that if she didn't get this straightened out-if in fact she was stuck here with Jack Simon for three days-her heart would look exactly the same when it was all said and done.

Old. Dull.

And utterly crushed.

Chapter Five.

Jack decided exactly one second after locking his gaze onto Donovan that his sister had a death wish, because right about now, he wanted to wring Grace's neck. What the h.e.l.l had she been thinking?

His jaw clamped tight as he watched Donovan spin around and hobble the last few steps, throwing open the door of the luxurious guest house and then slamming it shut behind her.

It was raining pretty good now, and for a few seconds, he wasn't sure what to do. He tore off his ball cap because it did nothing to keep his head dry, and tossed it along with his bags onto the covered part of the porch.

He took the last couple of stairs and walked the length of the house, his eyes on the sea and horizon. There wasn't a trace left of blue sky, and the angry clouds that rolled overhead suited his mood. So much for a relaxing getaway.

p.i.s.sed off, he shoved his hands into the front pockets of his cargos, eyes narrowed, mouth tight. He didn't know who he was more angry with-Grace for tricking two adults into spending time together when clearly it was a bad choice for both of them, or himself for taking one look at Donovan and wanting her more than he could ever remember.

Pathetic.

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, pa.s.sionate relations.h.i.+p 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 s.e.x 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 b.a.l.l.s. 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 f.u.c.king 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 relations.h.i.+p. Not even with a guy like Jack who would have given her everything.

So why the h.e.l.l 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. h.e.l.l, 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 f.u.c.king inconvenient.

"d.a.m.n," 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 a.s.signment 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 h.e.l.l, 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 h.e.l.l 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 s.e.x and cotton candy all rolled into one delectable treat, and he swallowed hard.

His physical reaction was immediate.

"Do I get to hear you play?" he managed to say without sounding like a complete idiot.

She was silent for a few moments, and he noticed raindrops clinging to her hair. He inhaled sharply, liking the fresh smell of a hot, humid, Tennessee evening.

"That depends," she said softly.

s.h.i.+t. Her voice was low and husky, full of smoke and whiskey. And Christ, the mole beside her mouth was s.e.xy as h.e.l.l.

"On what?"

"On how long you're staying."

He leaned in closer. "I'm here all night."

Freckles danced across her nose, and Jack fought the urge to bend even lower and swipe his tongue along the bridge. Just thinking about that got him to thinking about other things, other small and dark places he'd love to touch and smell and taste.

He had to take a moment, because his jeans were gonna get mighty uncomfortable unless he got his s.h.i.+t together.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Jack."

"Just Jack?"

He hesitated, knowing that a lot of folks would put two and two together and realize exactly who he was. "Simon," he said roughly.

Her finely shaped eyebrows furrowed, and her face broke wide open in a grin that left him feeling even more enamored than he already was.

"You're related to Maverick?"

Busted. "Cousin."

"Oh, I've heard all about you Simon boys."