The Forbidden Billionaire (The Sinclairs Book 2) (4 page)

“The damn thing hates me,” he rumbled, as though his coffeemaker had a personal vendetta against him. “My old one took a crap, and I bought one that’s supposed to be top-of-the-line. I end up with half a cup of coffee grounds in my cup.”

“Did you read the instructions?”

Jared shrugged. “Why? How hard can it be to make coffee? It must be defective.”

Just like a man, he obviously didn’t believe he needed directions. “It might help,” she suggested lightly. She very much doubted the coffeemaker personally disliked Jared. It was more likely that Jared was impatient with the coffeemaker. “It’s better than having withdrawals.”

She knew it didn’t escape Jared’s notice that she was pouring her coffee in an upright position, and he smirked evilly as he watched her. “Now I’m definitely having withdrawals,” he rasped. “Putting that gorgeous ass in the air can definitely give a man a lot of fantasies.”

“I didn’t know you were there,” Mara answered defensively. Her ass was hardly her best feature, and she wouldn’t have put it on display had she known anybody was behind her.

Jared crossed his arms in front of him, his coffee balanced in his right hand. “I know you were unaware that I was behind you. That just made the possibilities that much more tempting.”

No doubt it made a large target for just about anything. My butt is too big, and I’m pretty doubtful that my old Patriots T-shirt and cut-off blue jean shorts are a major turn-on.

It had been so early when she was loading her battered pickup truck that she hadn’t bothered with any makeup, and her hair was barely tamed in a clip behind her head.

Oh yeah, I’m definitely a real seductress. No wonder he wants me.

She rolled her eyes at him, letting him know she wasn’t going to engage in his flirtation. “Do those sorts of compliments usually work for you?”

He raised a quizzical brow. “For what?”

Mara shrugged and averted her eyes, concentrating on arranging her jars and cutting up homemade bread and placing it into airtight containers. “Pickup lines.”

“I wouldn’t know,” he informed her harshly. “I don’t usually bother. The only thing women want from me is money.”

Startled, she turned her head and openly gaped at him. “You don’t really believe that.”

Amazingly, Mara could tell from the look in Jared’s momentarily expressive eyes that he not only believed it but was completely convinced that women were only after his money.

“What else would they want?” He shrugged as though he was resigned to the fact that he was pursued for monetary reasons only.

Okay, the man is either blind, or he doesn’t look into the mirror every morning. This nearly flawless specimen of masculine perfection is actually insecure?
“There are other things,” she muttered quietly. Somebody had hurt him, rejected him. It was the only reason Mara could think of that he wasn’t conceited about his appearance.

“What?” he questioned in a low, velvety baritone.

Seriously? Jared Sinclair didn’t know he was hot enough to melt a woman’s panties with a glance? Since yesterday, when those amazing green eyes had begun to actually show some of his emotions, he’d become nearly irresistible to her. “Everything,” she admitted in a husky whisper, unable to keep her eyes from moving over him hungrily. “You’re every woman’s fantasy. Not only are you drop-dead gorgeous, but you’re kind and funny when you want to be. What more could a woman want?” Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

“Money,” he added gravely. “Lots of it.”

Mara’s heart melted. He really
did
think every woman was after him primarily for his money. “Believe me, there’s plenty more of you to appreciate than your bank account.” She hated that Jared actually believed what he was saying.

“I’ve discovered that a big bank account is their first priority. Other large assets come in last place,” he replied, a hint of humor in his voice now.

His emphasis on the words “large” and “come” made beads of sweat break out on her forehead, even though the summer day wasn’t particularly warm yet. She wasn’t touching his comment. Having this conversation was uncomfortable enough. “Would you like a sample?” she asked desperately, determined to steer the topic of conversation in a different direction.

“I’d like more than a sample,” Jared answered huskily. “I think when it comes to you, I’ll want everything.”

CHAPTER 4

Sweet Jesus, if he doesn’t stop flirting with me, I’m going to jump over this table and devour him. Men don’t try to seduce me with words or actions, especially not a guy who looks good enough to gobble up for breakfast. He’s the type of man who doesn’t have to try to be scorching hot. He simply . . . is.

“Jam,” she squeaked nervously. “Wild Maine blackberry is the sampler today.” She cut a full slice of the bread in front of her and hastily smeared a generous portion of her sample jelly on top of it.

Jared took it from her hand with a satisfied smirk.

He knows that he’s getting to me. Dammit!

Mara tried to keep her hand from trembling as she let go of the sample. She had to control her reactions to him, but he was starting to become hard to ignore. His husky, low voice made her overheated no matter what he said. When he made innuendos that were probably second nature to him, she melted. Her panties were drenched just from the thought of him sampling any part of her, and her core was clenching, aching with a need she’d never experienced before.

Get a grip, Mara. He isn’t seriously attracted to you. He’s charming and likeable, but Jared Sinclair is about as likely to be genuinely attracted to you as your chances of winning the lottery. Remember? You don’t even buy a damn lottery ticket. Don’t fall into this fantasy. You’re a realistic woman, and Jared Sinclair is way out of your league.

At the age of twenty-six, Mara was practically a virgin. It was embarrassing but true. She’d given her virginity away at the age of eighteen to her one and only steady boyfriend, who she’d met in her first and only year of college. When she’d had to leave the university after her freshman year because her mom had been diagnosed with cancer, her boyfriend had dumped her before she ever left the campus. Strangely, her heart hadn’t been broken. At the time, she’d been too worried about her mother, and she had always been convinced that sex was highly overrated. Now . . . she wasn’t so certain she was right. Jared Sinclair could do funny things to her body without even touching her. His clean, masculine scent and his husky baritone alluding to anything remotely sexual
was
getting to her. It was like he exuded pheromones from every pore in his body, luring her instinctively. Maybe for him the sexual references were just words, but Mara was beginning to picture him gloriously naked, his handsome face above her, his beautiful eyes filled with desire as he took her to some kind of nooky paradise she’d never experienced before.

“Holy shit, this is good,” Jared groaned as he devoured the bread and jam. “You make this?”

He closed his eyes, and Mara clenched her thighs together as she noticed the look of ecstasy on his face.

Don’t go there.
Forcing her mind out of the gutter, she replied, “Yes. I make all kinds of things. Jams, jellies, relishes, and sauces are my favorite. Most of them are old recipes that I picked up from my mom. I keep trying to improve them or create new flavors.”

Jared was silent as he chewed and swallowed, finally taking a sip of his coffee before he answered, “You’re in the wrong business, sweetheart. You should be selling those.” He hesitated before adding, “You do beautiful work with your dolls, but they aren’t going to make you rich. It takes too much time and material to make them, and the profit on each unit you sell is too small. Sell these and you’ll have a thriving business.” Jared examined all of the jars, checking the labels. “Chocolate peanut butter saltwater taffy?” He read the label almost reverently as he set his coffee down on the table and opened the jar. Unwrapping a piece of the candy, he popped it into his mouth.

“That wasn’t the sample today,” Mara chastised him, but she was smiling. He looked too damn hot as he chewed, and released yet another low, appreciative groan when he swallowed, for her to lament over a lost sale. Watching him was worth it.

“I’m buying,” Jared said greedily. “All of it. I’ve never had anything like it.”

“I only have a few jars of the taffy.”

“How fast do you sell out on market days?”

“Pretty fast,” Mara admitted. “I’m usually only here for a few hours. Most of the people in the area have tried the jams and the taffy. That goes first.”

Jared gave her a questioning look. “Let me guess . . . you can’t make more because you run your store and make dolls all day and cook at night?”

Mara shrugged, uncomfortable because he had just summed up her work habits perfectly. “Pretty much. The kitchen needs some updated appliances. I have to pull the taffy by hand, so my ability to make it in larger quantities is limited. I make as much as I can for the market.”

“Christ, Mara. You have this amazing ability, and you aren’t doing this in mass? What the hell are you thinking?” Jared asked harshly. “This is the money you live on, right? This is how you actually survive? I know damn well you haven’t kept yourself afloat on sales from your shop.”

“The doll shop is a tradition in my family,” she told him angrily. “And I hardly have the funds to start another business. The market works for me.”

“Bullshit. You could be making good money if you’d switch your product, put a store online.”

“That would require capital—”

“Which you’d probably make if you weren’t letting your funds get drained by keeping a losing business,” Jared interrupted.

She hated his words because he was absolutely right. “It was my grandmother’s store, and then my mother’s. Now it’s mine,” Mara answered stubbornly. “I know I failed and I’m losing the doll business. I went to a year of business school, Jared. I know it wasn’t a good business anymore, and I couldn’t really make money. But I wanted to hold on to a part of my mom. It’s all I have left.” Her eyes flooded with tears of frustration and leftover grief.

“You don’t need the doll store, Mara. You have your memories. What do you think your mother would have wanted you to do?” Jared asked in a much calmer, gentler voice. “She wouldn’t have wanted you to starve to keep the store going. I’m sure she wouldn’t have wanted you to be working every minute of the day to survive. Times change, progress happens, and tradition isn’t going to keep you in funds. You can’t sell enough dolls to make a living anymore. It would be an incredible hobby, but you can’t keep yourself solvent.”

Mara’s heart squeezed, the truth in Jared’s words hitting her hard. It was nothing she didn’t already know, but to hear it said out loud was painful. “My mom and I barely got by. When she got sick, I started doing the Saturday markets with some of the skills and recipes she passed down to me from my gran—making taffy, jams and jellies, relishes and sauces. It kept us afloat. I never knew things were as bad as they really were until Mom got sick and I took over the finances during the last year she was alive. I knew the outlook was depressing, but I wanted to keep it going for her.” Mara swiped at her tears irritably, hating her own weakness. “She sent me off to business school, and she didn’t have a penny saved. If I had known—”

“You didn’t know,” Jared growled. “Stop blaming yourself.”

Mara looked up at him in surprise, shocked that he was defending her. She’d made some lousy business decisions and she knew it. “I can’t help it. I was an adult. I should have known our situation. She never told me.” Her mom had never given her a clue that she didn’t have the money to send her only child to college. “I went for a year before she got diagnosed with cancer and I came back home. Seven years later, I’m still paying the student loans she took out to do it. And I never even finished.” Mara vented her grief and guilt to Jared as if she’d known him forever, realizing how good it felt to talk to
somebody
. Kristin was her best friend, but Mara had never wanted to mention her financial woes to her. Kristin would have wanted to help, and her friend had it tight herself.

“Are you about done beating yourself up now?” Jared asked her patiently, folding his arms in front of him and leaning a hip against the metal folding table. “Because if you are done blaming yourself for your past, which were entirely understandable actions considering you lost your mother only a year ago, then I’m going to make you a proposition.”

Mara brushed the last few tears from her eyes and stared at him blankly. His eyes were liquid and heated as he glared back at her. “What?” she asked curiously.

“I’m willing to put up the capital for a new business venture for you. I’ll provide the equipment, space, and start-up capital if you want to start a business selling your consumable products,” he told her briskly.

“You want to be an angel investor?” Mara folded her arms in front of her and looked him directly in the eyes. “You’re a billionaire. What interest can you have in a small business?” Even if she was successful, the money made on her business would be peanuts to him.

“First of all, I’m not what anybody would call an angel of any type.” Jared shrugged. “I like the products. One of the perks is I’ll get unlimited supplies.”

Mara rolled her eyes at him. “It’s not like you can’t afford to purchase them. Come on, Jared. You’re trying to help me, and I appreciate it. But I need to figure this out on my own.”

“Why? It’s a legitimate offer.”

His statement was laughable coming from a billionaire who did multimillion-dollar business deals, but she was curious now. “For what percentage of the business?” she asked doubtfully, watching as he scrambled to come up with an answer. Jared Sinclair wasn’t offering to go into business with her. He was offering to help her. Her heart melted as she watched a flicker of indecision move across his face, his businesslike facade temporarily faltering.

“Ten percent, and unlimited product,” he said decisively.

Mara snorted. “How in the hell did you ever become a billionaire? That’s not a serious offer. It’s a charitable donation to me.”

Jared ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated. “I don’t need more money. I need a project I can believe in,” he told her bitterly.

“You don’t like what you’re doing, owning one of the most profitable commercial real estate companies in the world?” What exactly did he mean by needing something he could believe in?

“It’s big business. Big buildings. Big money changing hands. Big commercial buildings. It’s not a challenge anymore. It never really was.”

Jared had helped to build some of the most impressive, enormous buildings in the world, and that wasn’t demanding enough for him? “You don’t like it,” she decided adamantly. “You don’t like what you do.”

“Maybe,” he agreed grudgingly.

“But you believe in my products?” Looking at the tortured look on his face, Mara believed him. Maybe he
was
bored. Maybe he really did want to be her mentor.

“I believe in you,” he snapped.

“Do you hate what you’re doing that much?” she asked gently.

“I don’t exactly hate it,” he grunted. “But I don’t like it, either. I have competent upper management who can do most of the work now. I’m basically a figurehead, the guy who makes the final decision. But everything has already pretty much been decided by research and professionals chasing the deals and the details, the pros and cons already figured out. All they need is my okay. Maybe I need the challenge of building a business from the ground up again.”

“It’s never going to be a huge moneymaker,” she warned him calmly, moving back enough to place her coffee in the bed of the truck and hop up on the tailgate to sit. Jared was a lot safer from a distance. “I know I can turn a good profit, but it isn’t the kind of money you’re used to dealing with,” she continued, relieved by the distance she’d put between them.

“I don’t give a shit about the money. I never did. I had more than enough money to live a life of luxury for the rest of my life and never do a single day of honest work. Success doesn’t always involve huge profits. I just want you to make enough to live comfortably. I want to teach you how,” he admitted roughly, his graveled tone sounding like he wanted to show her much more than business. Moving around the metal table, Jared set his coffee down before he stalked her, slowly pursuing her until he finally pinned her body against the open tailgate of her battered truck with his much larger, muscular form.

Mara’s breath hitched as she inhaled his masculine scent, feeling intoxicated by his nearness. He placed his hands on both of her knees and ascended slowly along the sensitive skin of her inner thighs with his thumb, stroking until he reached the tops of her thighs. Once there, he moved his hands up and gripped her hips in an urgent motion, pulling her forward until her saturated core was flush against his hard, steely erection.

Mara shuddered, her body melting into Jared’s as she looked up at him. His expression was strained and hungry, like a starving predator that had finally spotted prey. “And what do you get?” she questioned shakily, her nerves raw from trying to pretend she wasn’t ready to crawl up his big, muscular body and beg him to satisfy the ache he was causing to pulsate through her entire being.

“Satisfaction,” he answered in a husky voice before his mouth covered hers.

He swallowed her needy moan greedily, and he plundered her mouth with a dominance that turned Mara inside out. Helpless to do anything else, she wound her arms around his neck, threading her hands into his coarse hair, luxuriating in the feel of Jared taking her over completely. He demanded. She gave. He tilted her head, grasping her hair to position her head, demanding better access to her mouth. His tongue surged through her lips and into her mouth, his teeth taking small nips at her bottom lip between the bold thrusts. Strong hands moved down her back with brazen, possessive strokes that finally landed covetously on her ass as he cupped it like it belonged to him. He wasn’t gentle as he yanked her forward, bringing her core as close as it could get to his engorged cock with their clothes on.