Jack (The Family Simon Book 2) (11 page)

For a moment she stared out the window, not knowing what to do.

“Would you like me to get a porter for you Miss James?”

The driver, an older man with the world weary look of someone who’s seen a lot, gazed at her through his rear-view mirror. Something about the look in his eyes (concern maybe?) made that stupid lump in her throat swell even more and, shit, was she going to cry?

“I’ll be fine. Thank you.” Sure. As fine as a lamb about to be slaughtered. The Miami incident was still in the press, and she knew it was the first thing they’d ask her.

The driver glanced out at the throng of photographers and shook his head, muttering, “vultures.”

He opened up his door and stepped out, waving for a porter as he made his way to Donovan’s side. He opened the door and held his hand out. “I’ll get you inside safely.”

Donovan felt a tear slide down from the corner of her eyes and wiped at it. Dammit. She needed to get her shit together.

“You don’t—”

“Your friend, Mr. Simon would want that, and besides.” He winked and grasped her hand. “Cheatin’ And Lyin’ is one of my all time favorite songs. Your guitar work is gorgeous in that piece. It’s the least I can do.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, before inhaling a deep breath and stepping from the limo.

The fake smile that she’d utilized so well taping
Later Tonight,
was in place, and she held her head high as she took the driver’s hand. A shout went up and several porters appeared just as the crowd surged forward. Flashbulbs went off and she was blinded. If not for the warm, gentle hand at her elbow, Donovan wasn’t sure she would have made it inside. As it was, she cringed at some of the comments thrown her way. Most of the time she ignored them, but one caught her attention and she glanced to her right.

“What did you say?” she asked, ignoring the flash as the paparazzi continued to shoot.

A tall, thin man wearing a blue beanie, black T-shirt and khakis, smiled at her as if they were old friends.

“I asked who it was you were fucking in Belize.”

The porters were now standing between Donovan and the crowd, but she ignored everyone, her focus and growing anger on the insolent son-of-a-bitch whose smile she wanted to smack off his face.

“What’s your name sweetie?” she asked, conversationally, her voice dripping sugar.

He looked surprised at that, but one thing her mama had always taught her was that the only way to catch a fly was with sugar. “Jason.”

“Jason,” Donovan said, smiling sweetly. “Didn’t your mama ever teach you manners? Not only was that on offensive thing you just said, but honestly, it’s none of y’alls business who I’m fucking.” She motioned toward a redhead in the back. “David. Don’t you guys have a code or something? I might have to think real hard about posing for pictures in the future if this is the kind of crowd you’re all hanging with.”

As much as Donovan hated the paps, they were a disease that wouldn’t go away and over the past few years, she’d cultivated a relationship with several of them. They treated her with respect and in return, she gave them exclusives. David was one of those guys.

“Jason’s an asshole, Donovan,” David said, jostling through the crowd and glaring at the man in question.

Donovan’s smile widened. “That’s my impression too. I’d sure appreciate it if y’all would make sure Jason-the-asshole moves along.”

“Will do, Donovan.”

“Good.” She winked at David. “Thanks a bunch.”

Five minutes later, she slid her key card into the VIP suite and entered her room. The lights were muted, the shades open, allowing the evening stars and impressive city lights, inside.

Normally she would have enjoyed the quiet and beauty, but her fragile mood had been shattered by the vulgar paparazzi. Kicking off her black Jimmy Choo’s, she started to shimmy out of her short fire-engine red skirt but paused, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end.

Her heart took off as she inhaled sharply, her nostrils flaring. She knew that scent. She knew it intimately.

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.

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.

“You got nothing?” he said. “Let me paint the picture for you, Donnie. We had sex on the dock. Once in the shower and two and half times in your bed.”

Her chest heaved rapidly, and he heard her panting through her teeth. “What the hell is a half time?” she snapped.

He smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I don’t count blowjobs as the full deal.”

Her face went white, and she took a step back. But he wasn’t giving her an inch.

“Are you on the pill or not? It’s an easy question.” He watched her closely, waiting for the answer. If she was? He’d be on a plane back to Florida, and he’d never see her again. But if she wasn’t…well, that changed things completely.

Donovan’s eyes slid from his, her toes dug into the soft carpet as she wrapped her arms around herself.

“My personal situation isn’t any of your business,” she whispered.

Jack was silent for a few moments, watching her face change as her mind went full speed ahead. He’d had some time to think about this, but she obviously hadn’t done the same.

“We had unprotected sex four times.”

Donovan took a few moments and blew out a breath, but she wouldn’t look him in the eye. “Look. We were stupid. It happens. If you need a medial report or whatever, I can get it for you. I’m clean, I mean, I don’t have any kind of STD if that’s what you’re worried about.”

She was talking fast which told Jack just how rattled she was, and her tongue kept poking out to lick the corner of her mouth—another telltale sign that she was upset. And then there was the tick. The one that told him she was close to losing it.

“Good to know,” he replied, conversationally. “And likewise. I just had a medical a few weeks ago, and I’m as healthy as a horse.”

“Okay,” she said, attempting a smile and failing miserably. “Good. We’re good.”

“No,” Jack said softly. “We’re far from good.”

“But—“

“You could be pregnant.”

“I…” she shook her head and took another step back. “But I…no.” Her voice trembled. “Shit.”

Jack let the information settle before moving in for the kill. He kept his voice neutral, and that was an accomplishment considering the anger he felt was close to explosive.

“Do you have your passport still with you?”

“What?”

“Your passport. Do you have it on you.”

She nodded, face white.

“Good. Tomorrow we’re flying to my family’s place in Northern Ontario.”

“Ontario?”

“Gravenhurst. We’ve got a place on the lake. I took you there once. Thanksgiving I believe. We’ll be there for as long as it takes to figure this out.”

“As long as it takes? Figure what out?” she exploded. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“You are.”

She shook her head. “I’m flying to LA tomorrow.”

“You’re not.”

“What the hell? You’re overreacting, Jack. Seriously, think about this.”

He interrupted her. “Trust me, I’ve done nothing but think about it since I woke up alone with nothing but your goddamn note.”

“Jack, I’m sorry about that. I just…at the time it seemed—“

“The easy way out?”

She had no answer for that so he continued. “Your note was pretty specific. Keep this under your hat, I think it said. You come with me or every news outlet will know we were there together.”

Huge eyes looked up at him. “This is a crazy idea,” she said, finally taking a step back. “The only way you’ll get me to Canada is to…to kidnap me.”

“I’m fine with that.”

Her eyes widened even more, her lower lip trembled, and it was a shaky hand that pushed a bunch of hair off her shoulder. “I won’t go. I can’t go. I’ve got…I’m supposed to be writing new material for my next CD and I’ve got more promo scheduled for Maverick’s indie movie.”

“Do whatever the hell you need to do, but you’re coming with me.”

“Why would you want me to go to Canada with you? Especially after what happened in Belize?”

“Afraid you won’t be able to keep your hands off me? Don’t worry about it, Donnie. The last time we fucked
was
the last time. What happened in Belize was a physical release. A convenient screw. Nothing more. It won’t happen again.”

She winced and smoothed the front of her skirt, chin jutted out as she gazed up at him. She’d recovered some of her fire and looked fierce. “Four and a half convenient screws? Wow. That says something. I’m just not exactly sure what that is.”

“The half doesn’t count, remember?”

She looked so damn angry that he was sure she was going to hit him. Her eyes were on fire—everything about her was vibrant and pulsing with life. And God help him, the fighting made him feel something he hadn’t in a long time. It was that something he should probably pay attention to, but right now, it was the last thing on his mind.

“Jesus Christ you make me crazy,” she said. “Let me get this straight. You want me to go with you to Gravenhurst for two, maybe three weeks.”

“Yeah.”

“Because you think you’ve got super sperm and I might be pregnant.”

“Partly.”

“And if I don’t go, you’ll leak Belize to the press.”

“Right again.”

“Why?”

His anger flared. “Why are you so damned determined to keep Belize a secret?”

“That’s what this is about? Your pride? You’re pissed off, because I don’t want the general public to know that I was with you?”

“No, Donovan,” he replied. “It’s about a hell of a lot more.”

She looked like she wanted to throw something. But underneath all of that he sensed her panic.

“I’m not going. That idea is so wrong on so many levels, I don’t even have the time to list them. If the press finds out—“

“The press will find out if you don’t come to Gravenhurst.” He watched her closely. Saw the fear return. And knew he was onto something. Her fear…that right there was his bargaining chip. And he wasn’t so sure what it said about his character, but he was gonna jump on that.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked.

There it was, that fear again.

Jack spoke slowly so there was no way Donovan would misunderstand. “I’m doing this because I can. Because contrary to what most of America thinks, I’m not a golden boy. I’m a bastard through and through. It’s what makes me a great businessman and an even better politician. I don’t like to lose, remember?”