The Forbidden Billionaire (The Sinclairs Book 2)

by Scott, J. S.

  “Jared! Yoo-hoo! Over here!”

  His head turned sharply to the right as he heard a high, singsong female voice calling him. Smiling as he spotted Beatrice Gardener waving her arms in the air to get his attention, he made his way around other booths to the elderly woman.

  “Beatrice,” he acknowledged as he stood in front of her table and smiled at her. “Are you sure it’s healthy to actually be up this early in the morning? What are you doing here?” It was a dumb question. Judging by the table in front of him, which was loaded with crystals, she was here to peddle her wares. She had polished stones and jewelry, some of it obviously from her Natural Elements store. Jared considered it a New Age store, but Beatrice had once told him she was a student of all philosophies and religions, and she was an original. In the weeks since he’d been here, and judging from the conversations they’d had, she was definitely unique. His eyes ran over her long, pink shorts, sneakers, and T-shirt with her store logo emblazoned on the front. “Where’s Elsie?” Where Beatrice was, Jared could usually find Elsie Renfrew. The two old ladies seemed almost inseparable.

  “Oh, Elsie refuses to get up before seven in the morning. Says she’s retired and deserves to sleep in now,” Beatrice said unhappily. “She’ll probably drop by later.”

  “Did you set all this up yourself?” Jared asked with a frown. Beatrice was spry, but it didn’t seem right that she had unloaded the van behind her alone.

  Beatrice chortled merrily. “I might be old, young man, but I can handle a few boxes. I only bring my crystals out here on the weekends to help people.”

  Jared eyed the table. “The table is too heavy,” he told her politely.

  “George always helps me with my table. He’s such a gentleman. He sells produce here every weekend.”

  Jared shot her conspiratorial smile as he asked, “Have you gotten yourself a beau, Beatrice?” He put a dramatic hand on his chest. “You’ll break my heart.”

  The silver-haired woman shook her finger at him. “Save your flattery for someone who believes it, young man. Remember, I can read your aura.” She raised her eyebrow at him knowingly.

  “Then you know I’m telling you the truth,” Jared replied, deadpan.

  Beatrice considered herself the town mystic and psychic. She was also the unofficial Amesport matchmaker, apparently able to foresee matches before they happened. And . . . she could supposedly read auras. She’d told him more than once that he had a complex, mixed aura—whatever the hell that meant. Sure, Beatrice was different, and some people might find her peculiar, but she was adored by most of the people in Amesport because she was quirky but sweet, and Jared had liked her almost immediately. She and Elsie were completely harmless. Both of the women meant well, no matter how interfering or gossipy the ladies might be.

  “You aren’t telling me the truth,” Beatrice argued, tilting her head first one way and then the other as she looked at him. “But something is changing with you.” She continued to observe him pensively.

  “What?” He was starting to squirm beneath the woman’s intense scrutiny, feeling downright uncomfortable. Not that he really thought Beatrice could see into his inner thoughts, but damned if she didn’t have the mystical look thing down pat.

  Beatrice rifled through the stones on the table, finally lifting a dark, polished object. “You could use this one.” She held out the long rock attached to a key chain. “Carry it with you. It can help you with your guilt and your grief. You have to get rid of your emotional blocks before you can be happy again,” Beatrice informed him in a warning voice.

  Instinctively, Jared reached out and took the key chain. He wasn’t about to argue. Things were getting a little too weird for him. Digging into his pocket, he pulled out several bills.

  “No, no!” Beatrice exclaimed. “The crystal is a healing gift. I don’t want your money,” she insisted.

  Startled, he looked at the elderly woman’s distressed expression and put the bills back in his pocket. “You’re running a business, Beatrice. You can’t give things away.” Honestly, he was touched, even though the conversation was a bit eerie. Other than his siblings, no one had ever given him a gift. Although, he had to admit, this one did make him a bit uneasy. He certainly didn’t believe in her hocus-pocus, but there was something about the way she continued to give him her fixed stare that made him want to fidget like a naughty schoolboy.

  It’s just a coincidence. She doesn’t really know what happened.

  “I don’t need the money, Jared. My late husband was filthy rich in addition to being a stud. I’m loaded.” She gave him a sly wink.

  Jared chuckled, more amused than he wanted to admit. “You’re still a businesswoman,” he reminded her.

  “And a very good one . . . most of the time. I only give gifts in special cases. You and Mara are both special.” Beatrice went back to arranging her jewelry casually.

  “You’re trying to help Mara, too?” Jared asked curiously.

  Beatrice nodded. “Of course. Both of you. You were meant for each other.”

  Jared shook his head adamantly. Beatrice was matchmaking, and it was terrifying the hell out of him. “I’m not meant for anybody,” he told her flatly.

  “Oh yes, you are. You two were incredibly easy to predict. My spirit guide channeled the information to me quite loudly and clearly. Maybe you aren’t ready to believe it yet, but you will,” she told him mysteriously.

  “Um . . . okay,” he said awkwardly, putting the key chain in his pocket. He’d let Beatrice have her delusions. She’d be disappointed when she found out she was wrong, but he wasn’t about to argue with her. Frankly, she was too damn frightening sometimes. Fact was, he actually did want to fuck Mara. But out of all the women in this town, how did Beatrice know exactly who he was obsessed with having in his bed?

  Coincidence.

  Yeah, it was definitely a lucky guess.

  “She’s in one of the booths behind me,” Beatrice informed him casually, waving her thumb to the back of her.

  “Thanks,” Jared mumbled, more than a little disconcerted. “I hope you have a prosperous day.”

  “The same to you,” Beatrice answered, looking up at him with a knowing smile.

  He hurried away from the elderly woman to go find Mara, sticking his hand in his pocket to rub the smooth stone unconsciously.

  It’s just a damn rock. And Beatrice probably saw me talking with Mara at her store. She absolutely is not a psychic.

  Nevertheless, he clutched the stone in his fingers as he searched out Mara, wishing the rock could actually solve some of his problems as Beatrice had promised.

  “I’d be willing to pay almost any asking price for that.”

  Mara startled, almost spilling the coffee onto her fingers as she filled a paper cup from her thermos. Glancing over her shoulder from her bent position, the first thing she noticed was that Jared Sinclair wasn’t staring at the coffee. His eyes were trained on her ample butt, which was sticking up in the air as she filled her cup.

  “Coffee is free,” she told him as she straightened hastily, turning and holding out the cup. “It has creamer. I only bring it for myself, but I have plenty.”

  What the hell is he doing here?

  Jared Sinclair looked about as at home here in the middle of the wet, open field for the farmers’ market as he would doing any other everyday activity that the inhabitants of Amesport did on a regular basis.

  He belonged in the corporate world, in an immaculate suit that he wouldn’t get dirty, sitting in a high-rise office discussing business deals. The only casual things about him were the rolled-up sleeves of his button-down shirt, which exposed strong, muscular forearms lightly covered with reddish-brown hair, and the open buttons at the neckline collar, which gave her just a tantalizing glimpse of one very masculine chest.

  Jared finally accepted the cup from her hand as he met her ey
es with an intensity that made her shudder. Not letting go of her gaze, he took a large sip of the hot coffee, watching her over the rim of the cup before replying in his sexy baritone, “I think you know I wasn’t talking about coffee, although if I can’t have what I want right now, I’ll take the caffeine. Thanks.”

  Mara looked away from him, embarrassed. Ignoring his innuendo, she told him curiously, “This doesn’t exactly seem like your scene, and I’m surprised you don’t already have a cup of coffee in your hand. I rarely see you without one.”

  “Brew Magic isn’t even open yet. Why do they start this thing so damn early?” he grumbled unhappily.

  “Having withdrawals? I’m sure you have a coffeemaker at your house.” Already having set up her jars and containers for sale, she reached down for her thermos on the ground and straightened back up again, deciding to fill her own cup standing up this time. Honestly, she was having caffeine withdrawal, so she understood needing a cup of coffee. She’d been running late this morning and had skipped breakfast and coffee.

  “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?”