Jack (The Family Simon 2)

“You’re lying.”

“I might be.”

Maverick swore under his breath. “You sound like shit.”

“I look even worse,” she joked. But the joke fell flat, and silence filled her ear.

“What happened last night?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.” That was the thing about Maverick. He saw through her in a way no one else could. Other than Jack.

“It’s a long, complicated story and maybe I should be writing down some words because lord knows this would make a hit song.”

“Look if you’re not okay with this, just say the word and I’m up there. I’ve known Jack my whole life, and he can be a downright bastard when he wants to be.”

“No shit,” she murmured, eyes back on Jack as he shook the pilot’s hand. “I have to go.”

“Donovan, are you sure you don’t want me to come and get you?”

“I’m sure.” Truthfully she wasn’t sure about anything. Jack hated her. That was pretty obvious. She didn’t blame him. In his eyes, she’d used him and tossed him aside. More than once.

His reasons for blackmailing her into going with him to Gravenhurst weren’t exactly clear though. And the pregnancy thing? Her stomach rolled again just thinking about it. She wasn’t ready to have a child. Especially with a man who didn’t like or respect her all that much.

Whose fault is that?

Lordy, but her life really sucked at the moment.

“Look, I’m heading back to LA, but you say the word and I’m there for you. Got it?” Maverick said quietly.

“Okay,” she replied, trying like hell to stop the hot tears she felt pricking the side of her eyes.

“Maybe this is a second chance for you guys.”

“You’re such a romantic,” she whispered, sitting up as Jack glanced back. “I really have to go. I’ll talk to you in a bit.”

She tossed her cell back into her large Kate Spade bag and rooted around for her sunglasses. Once she had the over-sized Gucci’s in hand, she slipped them onto her face and ignored Jack as he slid into the seat across from her.

She flipped through a fashion magazine, but didn’t see a thing. Jack was on his cellphone and when she heard the name Derek, she froze.

“I’m gonna be up north for a few weeks. If anything important comes up, you can get in touch with me there.”

Turning a page, she pretended to read the article in front of her, but her ears were all on Jack.

“Nah, just relaxing. I took your word and decided that an extended vacation was in order.” A pause. “Monique?” Another pause. “I’ll think about it. Look, we’re about to take off, just keep me in the loop. I’ll be working out of the office up there.”

Donovan kept her eyes glued to the magazine in her lap, even though it was now rolled up and she had no memory of doing that.

“Miss Donovan? Please fasten your seatbelt. We’re about to take off.” The flight attendant, Dawn, was one of Jack’s people.

“Oh, sorry.” She nodded, did up her seatbelt and glanced over to Jack. He was busy sending a text and looked up just as the attendant leaned over. He smiled at the woman and just for one second, Donovan was lost in his eyes, in the beauty of his smile. She knew what it was like to be on the receiving end and could visualize the woman’s blush.

The spell was broken when Jack’s eyes slid to Donovan, and all pretense of politeness vanished. She held his gaze—wasn’t giving him an inch—but the victory felt hollow when he relaxed in his seat and reached for his tablet.

She turned toward her window as the plane began to move. Oh Donnie, she thought. What the hell have you gotten yourself into?

They arrived at the Simon family home in Gravenhurst around one in the afternoon. The place was as beautiful as she remembered, more so, since the late July weather was incredible. Not nearly as muggy as Florida, nor as stuffy as New York City, it was a little piece of heaven on earth. The water sparkled, the air was fresh and the house was as picture perfect as a postcard. Set on a slight rise overlooking the beach and boathouse, the pale yellow home boasted an impressive number of windows, white trim, a wrap around porch that would make any southern lady jealous, and an amazing view of Lake Muskoka.