Shit. This has to stop. Whatever her problem is, I’ll help her solve it. Then maybe I can get over this inexplicable obsession I have with her. She’s throwing me off balance, and I can’t afford to lose control.
Done fighting with himself, Jared admitted defeat just for the moment and made his way to her side, sitting down on the rain-soaked rock next to Mara. Plucking the glasses from her face, he tried to dry them on his semiwet shirt. “Very few things in life are worth crying over.” He’d learned that lesson a long time ago.
Startled, Mara finally jerked her head to the side to look at him, as though she was astonished to see him sitting next to her. “What are you doing out here?” she asked warily. “It’s going to start pouring again any minute now.” She glanced up at the approaching dark clouds.
Jared shrugged and perched her glasses carefully back on her nose. He could hardly tell her that she had drawn him here, that she’d pretty much seized him by the balls the minute she’d first spoken with him and had never let go—even though it was lamentably true. “I could ask you the same thing. This isn’t the safest place to be right now.”
Jared’s jaw clenched as her previous comment about the weather reminded him that the ocean was incredibly rough, and yet another violent storm looked to be coming their way. His eyes swept over her, and a raw possessiveness surged tempestuously over his entire body. Mara looked small and vulnerable, and he didn’t like it. Her dark eyes were swirling with sadness, and she wrapped her arms around her body protectively as she responded. “I wanted to think. This is where I come when I need to figure something out. Sometimes it makes me realize how small my problems are when I see how vast the ocean is.” She raised her voice so he could hear her over the loud surf slamming against the rocks.
Jared cringed at the vulnerability he could hear in her voice, wanting to snatch her up and take her somewhere—anywhere—to make her forget whatever her problems were. “And is it working?” Judging by her look of distress, it wasn’t.
“Not today,” she admitted with a large sigh, resting her elbows on her knees and clenching her fingers together, her gaze once again focused on the rough sea.
“Want to talk about it?” Jesus, I sound like Dr. Phil. When did he ever encourage anyone except his brothers and his sister to talk about anything emotional? And even that was rare. The Sinclairs weren’t exactly prone to spilling their guts to anyone, or wearing their emotions on their shirtsleeves. He and his siblings had been born wealthy, part of an elite class of old money. Showing any emotion except polite social behavior was prohibited, and that trait had been pounded into every one of them since birth. They were loyal but rarely demonstrative in their affection for one another, even though it was there.
Strangely, he still wanted Mara to talk about whatever was bothering her, even though he was pretty sure he’d have no idea how to respond. Wanting to know her thoughts was a very strange impulse for a guy like him.
What the hell was she doing to him—besides giving him a perpetual boner? As he chugged down the rest of his coffee, Jared realized that he really did want to know what was wrong so he could help her fix it. Maybe then he could get some damn peace, maybe he’d stop feeling compelled to wring every single detail of her life from her gorgeous, plump lips.
Jared watched as Mara shook her head, her damp, limp ponytail swaying behind her head. “I don’t really want to talk about it. We hardly know each other.”
Barely able to hear her, Jared moved closer, his thigh brushing against hers as he replied, “Sometimes it’s easier to talk to someone you don’t know, get an unbiased opinion.”
Then I can kill whoever is making you so damn unhappy. Problem solved.
Jared squirmed restlessly, unable to stop the incredibly uncomfortable protective instincts he was having toward a woman he barely knew. Truth was, he hated seeing Mara this way. The fact that she was obviously discouraged and unhappy was eating at him. Every time he’d visited her store in the last few weeks, she’d been unguarded and enthusiastic about helping him learn about the Sinclair history in Amesport, leading him to other sources to help him with his research. Hell, he’d just seen her yesterday, and she’d given him one of her bright, cheerful smiles—a genuine expression that told him she was glad to see him for no particular reason, a look he’d never had focused his way before by any woman other than his sister, Hope. In his world, almost everybody wanted something from him, and nobody was going to give without getting something in return. Mara Ross was pure light, and for a very short time, she’d illuminated the darkness that seemed to cling to him almost every waking minute of the day. She was so damn sweet, and always seemed so intoxicatingly innocent. When they had a conversation, he could sense that she was looking at him as a person, not a billionaire, her entire attention focused on helping him just because she wanted to. Not once had she expected anything in return. Those were traits that had Jared wanting to run the hell away from her as fast as he could, yet drew him inexplicably toward her at the same time. Something about her fascinated him, and for the first time in a long time, he was unable to exert the proper control to stop himself from exploring that unwelcome attraction.
After a long pause, she answered hesitantly, “Okay. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I do need to talk about it, and I don’t have anyone I can tell. I’m being evicted from my house. The owner is selling the property. I have to leave.” Continuing to stare out to sea, she clenched her fingers together tighter. “My grandmother ran the shop, then my mother, and now me. Everything I have left of them is going to be gone.”