The Forbidden Billionaire (The Sinclairs Book 2) (9 page)

Jared entered her one last time with a tortured groan, letting her milk him as he found his own release.

Trying to catch her breath, Mara protested as Jared started to lift his body from hers. “Stay,” she said softly, breathlessly. She wanted to feel his hard, masculine body surrounding her for a few more minutes, so she tightened her arms and legs around him. “You feel good.” She wasn’t ready to give up their exquisite connection.

Jared kissed her neck and the side of her face, making his way to her lips. He kissed her slowly, thoroughly, as though he was relishing the feel of them skin to skin. “Be right back,” he said in a low, hushed tone.

He disentangled their bodies and went to dispose of the condom, pulling the heavy drape back into place before he slipped back into the bed. Lying on his side, he pulled her back against his front, spooning her protectively. “Sleep now,” he insisted, burying his face in her hair. “We’ll figure everything out when we wake up.”

Her body sated, Mara realized how exhausted she was, and she had to stifle a yawn. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

She sighed as she relaxed into his protective embrace and wriggled against him, luxuriating in the afterglow of being thoroughly pleasured. “For this.”

He kissed her temple and chuckled. “It was my pleasure, baby. Literally.”

Mara’s eyes started to flutter closed, fatigue starting to take over. “Mine, too,” she murmured quietly, his comforting hand stroking possessively over her hip, soothing her into sleep.

CHAPTER 9

The following few days went by in a blur for Mara. Several days after the fire, she was finally moving into Jared’s guest house, which was in truth right next door to his mansion and might as well have been considered part of his gigantic residence. Except it didn’t share a wall with the main home, and the separate dwelling had its own entrance. The so-called guest house was ridiculously large, a three-bedroom ranch that was fully furnished, including an excellent cook’s kitchen with all the accessories she needed to make her products in much larger quantities than she ever had previously. Looking at the kitchen area, Mara was almost giddy with excitement.

She’d tried to get started on arrangements to get supplies, really wanting to make some jams and taffy for the next farmers’ market on Saturday. Jared had nixed the idea with a fierce scowl when he looked at her ankle the evening after their passionate encounter. She’d woken up alone late that evening after the fire and limped downstairs, much to Jared’s irritation. He’d picked her up and plopped her on the couch, warning her not to move until the swelling in her ankle came down. She was pretty sure he had been chastising himself for letting her be so physical in bed with him, thinking it had made her ankle worse. Maybe it had . . . but Mara wasn’t about to complain. She’d do it all over again if she could. Nothing would ever compare to such a tragic night turning into such a journey of discovery for her. Learning that her body could burn that hot had been an epiphany, and she’d never think sex was overrated again. In fact, it could probably be highly addictive. Having Jared close, as close as she could get to him, had taken away the devastating emptiness of that night for her. Honestly, it had taken away
all
of her loneliness.

Even though it was only for a short time, I’ll never regret it.

Neither one of them had brought up the topic of their frenzied sexual activities that night. Jared appeared to be more determined to protect her than he was to fuck her ever since that incredible day. Obviously, there would be no repeat performance, and Mara wasn’t sure if being together like that again would even be wise now that she had her head more together again. She was coming to like and understand Jared more and more the longer she spent time with him, learning new things about him every day. Getting too close to him, being with him again like she had that day, could prove disastrous. She could very easily become infatuated with him, and Jared wasn’t the kind of man who wanted attachments.

Mara chuckled softly as she familiarized herself with her new temporary home, thinking about some of the more humorous things she’d learned about Jared in the last few days of staying with him in the big house. The guy was a complete and total sweets and coffee addict. He didn’t function well without his coffee, and he ate sweets like they were an orgasmic experience. She’d laughed outrageously when she read the directions for his coffeemaker, quickly figuring out that Jared was yanking off the tops of the little containers of coffee rather than putting them into the device intact. The appliance made a perfect beverage; Jared had not. She’d snickered as he’d looked at her like she was a goddess because she could make a perfect cup of coffee. Since then, he’d mastered the simple task after he’d laughed at himself for the highly uncomplicated error. Of course, he’d grumbled when she’d teased him about everything being in the directions for the electronic device.

The taffy he’d gotten from her had been gone within the first day, and his supply of jam was dwindling since he seemed to pile it on his toast or bagel in the morning liberally. He usually preferred to watch movies or read in lieu of regular television shows, and he had a preference for classical music. He did indeed work out every single day, hitting his gym in the basement after he’d woken up with at least two cups of coffee and toast or a bagel slathered with her jam in the morning.

However, her most important discovery of all was that he cared about people, whether he wanted to show that side of himself to others or not. He’d coddled her for days, helping her fill out the forms to get her important documents replaced. One of the few things that
had
been recovered was her charred, soot-covered purse. It had been in the kitchen, and she’d been able to save her cards, checkbook, and her driver’s license, so it left her fewer documents to replace. But with the fire investigation ongoing, and all of the things she had to do to prepare to take Kristin’s place in Sarah’s wedding, she was going to be busy.

She and Jared had scanned the Internet, looking at website designs, logos, equipment, and all of the other online details that needed to be discussed if the business was going primarily on the net.

Mara had wanted “Sinclair” to go into the business name. After all, Jared was financing it. He’d insisted that the business was hers, he couldn’t cook worth a shit so the “Sinclair” would be a lousy endorsement, and he wanted to name it Mara’s Kitchen. After an afternoon of furious debate, the Mara’s Kitchen name had stuck, and he’d won, giving her a reasonable list of reasons why the name would be better and more focused toward their target customers—women. The business was going to be hers by name, and her efforts would either succeed or fail. Luckily, she had no intentions of failing.

It’s going to bear my name. My reputation will be on the line.

It was frightening and exhilarating at the same time.

Now, three days after the fire, the swelling had gone down on her ankle and she could move around comfortably, which had prompted her to search out her own space. Well . . . okay . . . maybe it was
still
Jared’s space, but it would get her out from under his feet in his own home. Staying immobile had been difficult for her, and Jared had insisted on carrying her everywhere, even to the bathroom, like she was completely incapable of walking on her own.

Kneeling down in the kitchen of the guest house, she opened the large cupboards beneath the countertops, smiling happily as she eyed the large kettles stored there. They weren’t commercial size, but they’d make twice as much—if not more—than she could make at home. And she could do one batch after the other because she had the time now. Pulling the pots out of their resting place, her heart again aching because she really no longer had a home of her own, she set them on top of the stove in preparation for cooking the mixtures she was going to need. Regardless of whether Jared objected or not, she
was
going to the market in a few days, and she wanted as much product to sell as possible to start infusing her own cash into the business. Looking at the costs for commercial equipment and all of the other expenses there were to starting up even a small business like hers had made her queasy. She’d cringed as she’d watched Jared order more and more stuff for her new business without a moment’s hesitation. Sure . . . he was a billionaire and this start-up was pocket change for him, but spending that much money had scared the bejesus out of her. Ultimately, her business would be in debt to Jared until he was paid back. Then, they could share profits. Mara didn’t care if the money meant nothing to him. It meant something to her, and she’d never feel right taking the majority of the profits and not seeing him reimbursed for everything he was pouring out for her business right now. They
would
make a contract, and she’d bust her ass to see those conditions met. That was one battle she planned on winning.

I’ll make it successful. I’ll pay him back. This is just a business loan. A partnership.

Granted, it was an opportunity that almost any business-minded person would kill for, but Jared had offered it to
her
, and she’d be a fool not to make the most of it.

How many people get the opportunity to do business with one of the billionaire Sinclairs?

Her jaw set stubbornly, she made her way into the bedroom and opened the closet in the master with a gasp. Sarah had told her on the phone that she’d picked up some clothing for her and left it in the guest house, along with some other items to replace what she’d lost in the fire. A gift, she’d said, a thank-you from her because Mara was replacing Kristin in her wedding. Sarah had told her that Dante had once provided her with a new wardrobe when her own clothing had been destroyed and had refused any payment for it. She’d gone on to say she knew how lost she had felt then without her belongings, and she hoped the clothing she, Emily, and Randi had selected would help her feel a little better.

Mara started to hyperventilate when she saw the massive amount of clothing in her closet. The storage space was full of jeans, shorts, skirts, tops, dresses, shoes, jackets, and accessories. As Mara moved across the room to open the dresser drawers, she found they were no less crowded with underwear, lingerie, and every undergarment Mara could imagine.

“She shouldn’t have done this,” she mumbled anxiously under her breath. These weren’t cheap clothes, and the gift was far too much. For her, a few pairs of jeans and T-shirts would have sufficed.

Closing the top drawer of the dresser, Mara sighed. Did any Sinclair, even one just marrying into the family, do anything in a small way? Having anyone care for her as an adult seemed awkward and strange. Most of her adult life had been spent tending to her sick mother. Mara couldn’t call anyone other than Kristin a real friend since she’d been consumed with her mom’s slowly debilitating illness. After her mother had passed away, she had grieved, living in a bubble of despair while trying to keep the shop afloat. Now, she wasn’t sure what to do or how to feel.

Sad?

Disconnected?

Scared?

Excited?

Or free?

Feeling somewhat guilty for feeling
all
of those emotions, Mara realized that by an incident of fate, she was unencumbered and able to seek out something new for herself. She was no longer tied to a dying business she felt obligated to continue. It was a frightening yet exciting notion that she could carve out her own place in the world instead of following tradition.

Looking back, she was fairly certain that her mother had wanted something better for her, which was why she’d tried to send Mara to college. “Maybe she didn’t want me to carry on the family tradition. She knew the store wasn’t making money. Maybe it was
me
who just wanted to hold on to a piece of my mom,” she muttered to herself as she wandered out of the bedroom.

After quickly donning one of the new outfits Sarah had bought her so she didn’t have to wear Jared’s T-shirts anymore, she left the house and walked outside, limping a little as she made her way down to the beach. Her injury was almost painless now, and the ice that Jared had applied to the strained outside muscle of her ankle and keeping it elevated had taken away the swelling completely. It was nothing more than a nuisance now, and Mara was happy to be walking again.

The weather was warm, bright, and sunny as she kicked off her sandals and waded into the ocean, sighing as the cool water washed over her feet.

I love Amesport. I’m so grateful that I don’t have to move.

Her heart still ached with the losses she’d suffered from the fire, but Jared was right . . . she had her life. The near-death experience had jolted her into the reality of how fleeting and fragile that life could be, and she was determined to appreciate every new day now.

I’ll make a success of this business. Mara’s Kitchen will put out some of the best products on the East Coast. Jared is giving me this chance, and I’m going to run with it, make it as good as it can possibly be.

Flopping into one of the low, wooden chairs at the edge of the water, Mara stretched her bare legs out in front of her. The red shorts Sarah had selected for her were a little shorter than she usually wore, but the matching red-and-white-striped shirt was comfortable. The water beckoned her, but she had to treat her ankle gingerly for a while, give the stretched muscle a chance to completely heal. Work came first, and she needed to be able to get around well without restrictions. Reinjuring it would delay all of the ambitious plans she was forming in her mind. It seemed so strange to be planning a business of her own, something that would be entirely new for her. Although she liked using the skills her mother had taught her to sew and make dolls, cooking was actually her first love. She was never more at home than when she was in the kitchen trying to improve on the already-incredible recipes that had been handed down from generation to generation.

She was just wondering what time Jared would be back from town when she saw a lone figure walking down the beach toward her. Squinting and shading her eyes with her hand, she noticed the male figure making his way slowly toward her. Gaping shamelessly, she acknowledged that the enormous male was actually wearing a suit and tie. Who in the heck would be wearing a suit in this heat, and on the beach, no less?

Not Jared. This guy is even bigger than Jared, which is saying something because Jared dwarfs most normal men.