Jack (The Family Simon Book 2) Read Free

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 13 th 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.
    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