by their accusations, and during the days when the misery had seemed never ending, Kora had decided that she didn’t give a fuck. Not about Sam, or Trina, or even what the people who supposedly loved her thought.
No matter what she did, Kora couldn’t outrun her past, couldn’t get away from the reputation she’d been given, and now, it seemed she was being punished all the more.
What she wouldn’t give to have a handsome prince and a fairy godmother, someone to swoop in and offer a distraction because this … walking into the baby shower and facing the disappointment of her past … this was going to be a fucking nightmare.
DONOVAN BRASHWOOD NEVER THOUGHT he’d see the day he was attending a baby shower. Willingly, at that. But it appeared that day had come.
Weren’t these things supposed to be for women? Since when had it become appropriate to wrangle the men into it as well? If that wasn’t protocol, it should be. Guys didn’t belong. At least in his opinion.
And based on what he was looking at now, he’d already made a mental note to come up with an excuse if he were ever invited to another. At thirty-two, Donovan had been lucky thus far, somehow managing to avoid events like this.
Maybe he should be thankful that he didn’t have friends who were pregnant. But he did have a brother, and this was Sam’s baby shower. Well, technically Trina’s, but since Sam had done the dirty deed and sent the little swimmers home, he was included.
Which meant Donovan hadn’t had the choice to come up with an excuse. But he had to admit, so far it wasn’t bad. There was an open bar, which he’d already taken advantage of, as well as free food. And from what he could tell, there was only one game. Everyone had to take one of those teeny tiny one-piece outfits—someone had called it a onesie—sitting on a table and decorate it using the fabric paint provided.
Not that Donovan would let any of his friends know he’d willingly spent a Saturday night at a baby shower, decorating onesies, but still. He was committed, so he figured what the hell.
Definitely not the most exciting thing he’d done as of late, but the alcohol was helping.
Then she walked in—Kora Madison—and he saw his night taking an immediate turn.
For the better, he hoped.
As the lithe blonde moved across the room, graceful and sexy as hell, in that short black skirt, the sheer black top that gave a delicious glimpse of her bra-covered breasts, and those fucking awesome lace-up bootie heels, Donovan noticed how heads turned and whispers started.
Hot fucking damn.
He had to give her credit, she was brave. Especially considering this was her sister’s baby shower and the proud father was none other than her lying, cheating ex, a.k.a. Donovan’s younger brother.
Yeah, it appeared no one else knew the circumstances behind Sam and Kora’s breakup, but Donovan did. After all, Sam was his pain-in-the-ass kid brother. There was a five-year gap in their ages, but growing up, they’d been relatively close. Right up until Donovan had moved out of their small town and ventured to the big city.
Although Donovan hadn’t lived close to his family in years, their mother still kept him in the loop on all that was going on. And Sam, much like Donovan, had always been noteworthy, never doing anything half-assed.
Looked as though Sam had outdone himself this time.
Donovan had never understood why Sam hadn’t introduced him to Kora during the two years the pair had dated, until right at that moment. If Kora had been his girl, Donovan would’ve wanted to keep her locked away all to himself—preferably tied to his bed, naked, spending every waking moment ravaging her. She was…
Fuck.
She was a fucking wet dream come true. And looking at her, watching the way she strutted across the floor, the sexy sway of her hips drawing his eye… She made him want things. Stupid things. And he wasn’t simply talking about endless nights of orgasms, either.
Although that would be high on his priority list.
There was something about the way she moved. She’d waltzed right into that room full of assholes who looked down their narrow noses at her, yet her chin was up, her back ramrod straight. The skirt she wore was probably shorter than necessary, the heels a little taller, but fuck if the combination didn’t do some amazing things to her body.
“You see her?” the man sitting at the table in