The Billionaire's Secrets (The Sinclairs Book 6)

by J. S. Scott

  She was right. I did want my music back. It had been such an enormous part of my life for so long that there was an empty space inside where my creativity should be. And if I made the choice to quit, I did want to actually make that choice. I didn’t want to just run away because I didn’t think I could perform anymore. “How did you get so smart?” I asked.

  “Years of screwing with people’s brains, and other higher education,” she said jokingly.

  “It takes a long time to be a psychologist,” I pondered. “Years of school.”

  “Yes. Until about three years ago, I’d spent all my adult life as a student.”

  “How did you get through school alone?”

  “Financially?” she questioned.

  I nodded.

  “It wasn’t easy. My parents didn’t have much after everything was paid off. They had still been raising three kids at home. I had to work a ton of hours, and I never got much sleep. I used student loans that I think I’ll be paying for the rest of my life. But it was worth it.”

  I grinned at her. “When did you know you wanted to mess with people’s minds?”

  “Honestly, I didn’t decide what I wanted to do until I went through my own pain of losing my family. I was barely starting college when they all died. I had a good counselor who helped me through my trauma, and I decided I wanted to study psychology so that I could help other people get through their own battles.”

  Damn! Samantha was an amazing woman. Most people wanted to run away from bad experiences, just the way I had. But not her. She ran toward helping other people.

  “Your music helped me, Xander,” she told me softly. “It spoke to me. I don’t know why, but it helped me through those years when I felt so damn alone.”

  I was humbled by the fact that anything I’d done had helped to drag her out of her misery. “I’m glad,” I answered huskily. “I think I could write some stuff now that you could really relate to. That is, if I could fucking write again.”

  “You will,” she answered confidently.

  “How do you know? What if I can’t?”

  “I refuse to believe your talent is gone. As one of your biggest fans, I won’t accept it.”

  The fact that Samantha supported me meant more than I could express to her. “I hope I don’t let you down. I’m just not feeling it.”

  She moved close to me again and stroked a soft hand over my cheek, once again showing no reaction to the scars on my face. I honestly was starting to believe she didn’t see them, and she accepted me, scars and all. “Don’t try so hard. I have faith that once you accept that your music had nothing to do with your parents’ deaths, it will all come back.”

  “Logically, I think I know that now.” I reached up and clasped her hand in mine, holding it against my face. “But I’m still not feeling it.”

  “Then let’s find you some inspiration,” she suggested. “Let’s get out and find the good things in life.”

  “You’re one of those good things, Samantha,” I admitted. “I’m not sure how in the hell you got here, but I’m so fucking glad you did.”

  “I think I knew you needed me,” she answered, pulling her hand away from mine slowly. “I’ve been in a similar place to where you are now.”

  “But you didn’t run away like a coward,” I answered.

  “Didn’t I? For a while, I think I did. I retreated from the world, just like you did. I was so depressed that I didn’t want to get up in the morning. It’s been a decade for me, Xander, and although the acute pain is gone, I still think about my family almost every day. I still miss them.”

  My gut reaction was to make sure Samantha was never alone again. Jesus! I still didn’t know how she’d been strong enough to survive. “I know you do, sweetheart.”

  “I finally decided that the last thing they’d want me to do is wallow in my own misery. So I got help. I didn’t get better in a short period of time, but it does get easier. Eventually, I felt better just by doing things in their memory. Maybe that’s why I chose my career path. Maybe helping other people actually helped me, too.”

  “Your book will help a lot of people.”

  “That’s what I’m hoping,” she answered. “I’m not really a writer. I’m kind of nervous.”

  I shrugged. “You know exactly what to say to help people. Just write from your experience and education. I have faith in you.”

  She moved up to me and wrapped her arms around my neck, and God, it felt good. “Just like I have faith that your music will come back.”

  I wrapped my arms tightly against her waist so she couldn’t escape. She was changing my life, and it scared the hell out of me, yet I couldn’t run away this time. Samantha meant everything to me, and when she was in my arms, I felt like I was holding my whole fucking life.

  There was no way I wasn’t going to kiss her. I needed the feel of that sexy damn mouth on mine. Holding the back of her head, I swooped down and captured her lips, not happy until my tongue was twisted with hers, and my hands were caressing down her back and over her ass.

  She willingly surrendered to me, giving me the sustenance that I was craving.

  Mine! This woman is so fucking mine.

  Both of us came out of the passionate embrace panting for breath, and when she laid her head on my chest, I felt like a damn god.

  There wasn’t a thing I wouldn’t do to make her happy. She deserved it. And for the first time in a long time, I was beginning to think I might become worthy of happiness, too.

  CHAPTER 20

  SAMANTHA

  “Now that I think of it, I could have done better than this,” Xander grumbled as a pretty young brunette waitress delivered our lobster rolls.

  “Better?” I asked curiously.

  Xander and I had meandered down Main Street, and he’d been patient while I hit every shop that drew my interest. At some point during the afternoon, I’d felt the tension drain out of him, and he started teasing me about my tendency to find something I liked in every little tourist shop.

  I hadn’t bought much, but I loved to look.

  “I have a private plane. I could have taken you on a dream date anywhere in the world. Instead, we’re having lobster rolls in a dive.”

  “It isn’t a dive,” I protested, looking around the quaint restaurant. Liam had apparently done a remodel on his eatery near the pier, and I loved the adorable beach theme complete with antique fishing equipment, and the pretty coastal colors. It was small, but it added to the friendly atmosphere.

  Brooke, our waitress, was attentive and always smiling.

  “It sure as hell isn’t what you deserve,” Xander grumbled.

  It touched my heart that he wanted to impress me. “It’s much more than I’ve ever had,” I explained. “And the food is fantastic. I had a really good time today. I don’t think it could have been any more perfect. Thank you for sharing my birthday with me.”

  His dark eyes surveyed me, as though he was looking for the truth. “If a lobster roll at Sullivan’s makes you happy, then flying to Italy for Italian might make you ecstatic.”

  How could I explain to him that the place didn’t matter? It was the fact that he cared enough to celebrate with me. He’d walked around the crowded tourist town just to make me happy, and patiently indulged my whims all afternoon. “I still have cake at home,” I reminded him playfully. “It’s perfect.”

  I took a bite of my sandwich, moaning as the sweet, succulent taste of fresh Maine lobster hit my palate. I chewed slowly, then swallowed. “This is amazing. It beats Italian in Italy any day of the week.”

  Xander was already half-done with his. “It’s good. But don’t tell Liam I said so. I give him hell about being a millionaire who owns a little hole-in-the-wall.”

  Surprised, I asked, “He’s rich?”

  Xander nodded. “Very. He was a stunt-and-explosives guy in Hollywood for years. He only came back to Amesport because Tessa lost her hearing. They both took over the restaurant when their parents died. It�
��s an iconic place. It’s been in Liam’s family for generations. But it’s not where he makes his major money. He invented a lot of products that are used for stunt and explosive work, and he could sit on his ass forever and collect licensing royalties on those inventions and just keep getting richer. But he’s the kind of guy who likes to be busy.”

  “You like him,” Sam accused.

  “He’s done a lot for me. He’s had his own struggles, and he’s been there for me. I’m grateful for that.”

  We’d seen Liam when we’d first come into the restaurant, and even though they joked around, I could tell Xander was fond of the restaurateur. “Well, I’m personally glad he keeps the restaurant open. This is one of the best things I’ve ever had.” I pointed at the nearly gone lobster roll in my hand.

  Xander dropped his napkin on his empty plate. “He’s still suffering,” he mentioned.

  “Why?”

  “He’s had the hots for our waitress since she got here. But she has a long-distance boyfriend, and Liam thinks he’s too old for her anyway. I think he should compete. Hell, he’s a nice guy, and he’d treat her good.”

  I’d been watching the waitress and her body language. “She likes Liam, too. I don’t think she really has a boyfriend.”

  Xander lifted a brow. “What makes you say that?”

  “Her body language and her expressions. I see the way she looks at him every time she goes to the window to pick up an order. She’s aware of him even when he isn’t in sight. I’d say the feeling is totally mutual.”

  “You think so?”

  I nodded. “I do.”

  “What about the boyfriend? He swears she has one.”

  “I think he’s wrong. A woman doesn’t look at a guy like that when she’s already in love with somebody. She is not flirting with Liam. But he makes her edgy. She can’t hide her attraction.”

  “I think he should just nail her and get it over with.”

  “That’s crude,” I told him, trying to bite back a smile.

  “It’s reality. You told me you wanted me to live in reality. His dick has been hard for months. The age difference is just an excuse. I think he’s afraid she’ll reject him.”

  “So nailing her is the answer?”

  He shrugged. “It couldn’t hurt.”

  I rolled my eyes. “There’s more to a relationship than sex.”

  “He could deal with the other stuff after he has sex with Brooke. It’s hard to think about anything else when a guy is that hot for a woman. I can tell you that from experience.”

  His dark-eyed stare told me exactly what he was thinking, and my nipples grew painfully hard as his intense gaze made me think about nothing but sex. “Can you?” I squeaked.

  Heat rushed between my thighs as I ate him up with my eyes. Since he’d gotten his hair cut, I really could see his beautiful, expressive eyes more clearly, and he’d never looked more handsome to me. He was dressed almost completely in black, from his T-shirt to his jeans and down to his black leather biker boots. From what I could tell by looking at his old pictures, he’d always dressed this way. The look was good on him. Bad boy meets rocker. It was a mysterious demeanor that was almost irresistible, especially when a guy filled out a pair of jeans the way Xander did.

  I’d opted for another sundress and a pair of sandals for our outing. They were cool and comfortable.

  “Yeah, I can very easily understand wanting to nail a woman so bad that my balls are blue,” he rasped. “I’m sitting here across the table thinking about how much I want to fuck you, Samantha.”

  Oh. God. I wanted that, too. But Xander had so many things to figure out, and I was way too attracted to him. “I want that, too,” I whispered truthfully as I reached for my water glass, hoping to cool myself down.

  “Nothing is going to make this attraction go away, so why don’t we just enjoy it?” he asked.

  “I-I can’t. I’m afraid.”

  He looked disappointed. “Of me? Of the way I acted at Micah’s house?”

  I shook my head. “No. I realize you were scared that you’d been completely betrayed, and I get why you were angry.”

  “Then why are you scared?”

  “I want you too much,” I confided. “This is new to me. I don’t want to get hurt.”

  “Christ!” he cursed. “Don’t you know I’d cut off my right arm before I hurt you? Don’t you have any idea how much I need you, Sam?”

  “Maybe you do need me right now. But feelings could change. Someday you could realize that you’re getting better and you’d outgrow me.”

  “Mine won’t change,” he denied. “And if either of us should feel insecure, it should be me. I’m no prize. I can’t perform music anymore, I’m screwed up in the head, I’m a selfish prick, and I’m scarred all to hell. What does a beautiful psychologist want with a guy like me?”

  My heart thundered inside my chest, and I wanted desperately to believe his emotions were real. But Xander hadn’t been back in reality for long. He couldn’t possibly know what he really wanted right now.

  Xander continued, “I know I’ve given you reason not to trust me. You have every right to be wary. But know this: you’re mine, Samantha. I think you were always supposed to be mine.”

  I smiled even as every nerve ending in my body vibrated in reaction. “That’s a little caveman, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t give a shit. Whatever this is, whatever I’m feeling, it is primitive.”

  And carnal.

  And possessive.

  Oh, yeah. I knew exactly what he meant.

  “It’s not healthy,” I answered, trying to convince not only Xander, but also myself.

  For God’s sake, I was a mental-health-care worker. The problem was, I was emotionally involved, and there was no way I could see Xander as some kind of case study. Everything I’d studied and known flew right out the window because I wasn’t rational when it came to the man sitting in front of me.

  He was never my patient.

  All I’d wanted was to be a friend and companion who might be able to help.

  Nothing had prepared me for the way I’d ended up connecting to him.

  “The hell it’s not. It feels good. So I guess I don’t care if textbooks say it’s not healthy. I’m not a typical guy.”

  “No, you’re not,” I admitted.

  Xander was a lot of things, but ordinary wasn’t one of them. Neither was dishonest. He was blunt and to the point, and because I felt the same elemental pull, there wasn’t much I could say to argue.

  “I got you a birthday gift.” Xander reached into the pocket of his jeans.

  “No. Please. I’m not really big on celebrating with gifts on my birthday—”

  “Because you haven’t had anybody who cares. But I care, Sam,” he interrupted. “It’s not a big deal. I didn’t have much notice.”

  I stared at the box for a moment, unable to speak. He was right. I didn’t do a lot of things because my family was gone: Christmas, Thanksgiving, birthdays, or any other occasion that people spent together as a family.

  I reached out and accepted the wrapped box with a shaky hand. “Thank you.”

  He shrugged. “Like I said, it isn’t a lot. Just something I thought you’d like. I noticed you don’t wear jewelry, so I hope you like it.”

  I didn’t wear jewelry. I didn’t really have anything except inexpensive earrings. “I’ve never bought myself anything,” I answered honestly. “And I never collected anything of my mother’s. I regret that now, but at the time, I couldn’t go back into the house. My neighbors offered to clean out and repair the house so it could be sold once it was released from being a crime scene. I let them. Unfortunately, I never saw any of my family’s belongings. Maybe I didn’t want to, back then.”

  I’d opened the beautiful gold wrapping as I was talking, and then I carefully began to raise the lid of the black velvet box. I could hear my audible gasp as the hinge of the box sprang open to reveal a deep-red velvet interior. In the middle
was a gorgeous gold necklace. The teardrop pendant was large, and in the middle was a 3-D rose that was elevated and beautifully crafted.

  I gently traced the lines of the elegant gold rose as Xander said, “The teardrop is for the tears and heartache you’ve gone through over losing your family. The rose is a symbol that your love for your family will always be with you. Read the back.”

  His words made tears leak from my eyes and down my cheeks. I swiped one away before I flipped the pendant over. It was engraved:

  Always in My Heart.

  Love.

  Never.

  Dies.

  “Xander,” I squeaked, putting a hand over my mouth as a sob tried to escape my lips.

  “Shit. I didn’t mean to make you cry, Sam. I thought you might like a reminder. A remembrance . . .”

  His voice trailed off, and he sounded remorseful.

  I shook my head vigorously. “It’s not that,” I answered in a voice cracking with emotion. “It’s beautiful, and probably the most thoughtful, meaningful gift I’ve ever gotten.”

  I knew we were drawing attention from the other customers in the restaurant, but I wanted him to know how much it meant to me that he’d actually completely thought out this gorgeous gift.

  “Then why are you crying?” he asked.

  “I’m . . . touched.” My emotions ran deeper than that, but I couldn’t seem to find the right words. I lifted the necklace carefully out of the box. “How did you get it?”

  “I didn’t have time to do something custom, so I bought it at the jewelry store here and asked for them to engrave it when I went out to get a haircut.”

  I sniffled as I answered, “I love it. But I’m sure it was expensive.” The jewelry was heavy in my hand, and I was pretty certain it was probably pure gold. The chain was sturdy, and long enough that the pendant would hang at my cleavage. Well, if I actually had cleavage.