CHAPTER 4
Sarah grimaced as she finished bandaging her foot. As soon as she’d arrived back home, she’d made sure all of the glass was out of the wounds on the bottom of her feet. Most of the cuts were superficial, and she’d soaked them and added some antibiotic ointment before wrapping her right foot in a bandage. The cut wasn’t big or deep, but she had a nasty puncture wound that had caused a lot of bleeding. It might be tender to walk on for a while, but she’d live.
She got up from the sofa and started to put away her medical supplies, her small dog, Coco, right on her heels. Coco had belonged to an elderly patient who had passed away, and Sarah hadn’t been able to resist adopting her. It had been one of the most impulsive things she’d ever done, but she’d never regretted it for a moment. Only six months old when Sarah had adopted her, Coco had been smart, easy to train, and alleviated some of the loneliness that had plagued Sarah for most of her life. Maybe it hadn’t been sensible to get a dog, but knowing that she wasn’t arriving at her cottage to an empty home every night helped to make Sarah’s heart just a little lighter. Now Coco was her constant companion whenever she wasn’t working, and the kids at the youth center absolutely adored her.
Grady Sinclair had supplied the Youth Center of Amesport with a variety of musical instruments, and Sarah donated her time to teach some of the kids the basics on piano. Although Sarah had thought the Steinway baby grand had been more than a little much for introducing kids to music, she couldn’t help but appreciate the rich, beautiful sound of the instrument. She only held classes once a week, but Sarah found herself stopping by the YCOA just to practice and make use of the gorgeous piano every chance she got. Her cottage was too small for a piano. Maybe someday she’d get a bigger place and a piano of her own, but for now, going to the center served a dual purpose: it forced her to get better at socializing, and it allowed her to play the piano.
Thank you, Grady.
Beatrice and Elsie never stopped discussing how much things had changed since Grady Sinclair had married Emily. The YCOA certainly had everything imaginable for the population of Amesport and the outlying villages. Grady had changed the youth center from a gathering place for the local events that barely got by on a tiny budget into almost a free country club for everyone. Emily had been able to expand the programs for the children who utilized the center and make it the hub for any of the town’s activities. It hosted everything from concerts and dances to weekly senior bingo now.
A small smile formed on Sarah’s lips as she filled Coco’s dog dish with fresh water and food, thinking about the obvious love and devotion Grady gave to Emily. The two of them were so in love and happy together. Emily claimed that her husband spoiled her rotten, but Sarah knew that Emily made Grady happy, too. Her friend had a huge heart, and as unlikely a match as they might’ve seemed on the surface, they were made to be together. The gruff billionaire and the bubbly blonde were a perfect pair.
Sarah absently wondered what it would be like to be loved the way that Grady loved Emily. Never having experienced that kind of love, she didn’t have a clue whether she’d feel suffocated by it or if it would make her feel safe and comforted like it did for Emily and Grady. Sarah was used to being alone.
But I’m lonely and alone. I think I might want what Grady and Emily have, but I don’t really understand it.
She was content here in Amesport, and she had friends for the first time in her life. She was learning to talk about small things that were important to the people in the community instead of constantly trying to analyze major scientific debates. Surprisingly, she found talking to normal people incredibly fascinating and satisfying. Sometimes talking about emotions was a lot more interesting than scientific theories. It was certainly more educational, because she knew next to nothing about mental states except for loneliness and the sorrow she saw every day as a doctor. Right now her lack of understanding was frustrating because it made it even harder to quite get a fix on what was happening with the handsome Detective Sinclair.
Somehow, she’d imagined that Dante Sinclair would share some similarities with Grady, but after their brief, tumultuous meeting, she couldn’t find very many. They shared the same dark hair and some facial features, and they were both large, very well-built men. But while Grady was mostly a brilliant, quiet computer geek with a generous heart, Dante was surly and aggressive. Granted, the guy had just been through a horrific experience, but Dante nearly vibrated with a stubborn belligerence that Sarah was fairly positive was an inherent part of his personality. Maybe in better times he wasn’t quite so surly, but she was willing to bet he could be obstinate and unyielding, even when he wasn’t stressed.
He’s a homicide detective in Los Angeles, in the district with the highest rate of annual murders. Maybe it’s that bullheadedness that keeps him alive.
It made sense. Obviously, Dante and Grady had lived completely different adult lives. They were bound to have formed different personalities, different ways of dealing with things.
She’d believed Dante when he said he hadn’t meant for her to get hurt. Remorse had flashed in those gorgeous hazel eyes of his for just a moment when she’d been ready to walk out the door. Dante Sinclair was angry at the world right now for taking away his partner and friend. She had just happened to be standing close to him when he snapped.
Sarah sighed, wishing there had been more she could have done to help Dante. He was her patient, Emily’s brother-in-law, and Grady’s brother. Hopefully, his family could help him emotionally more than she could.
She took a long bath, careful to protect her bandaged foot, and finished reading a romance novel Emily had recommended to her. Romance novels had recently become an obsession for her. So much emotion, and so much sex. She read the stories of love and desire with a fascination that she’d never experienced with any other books. Of course, they were fiction, but she wondered if it was even possible to feel that depth of emotion for a man. And the sex? Well, it certainly wasn’t realistic in her experience, which she had to admit was so sparse it was almost nonexistent. But for some unknown reason, she was addicted to reading about relationships that she couldn’t quite believe were even possible. As a doctor, she could admit that some parts of a sexual relationship could be pleasurable—probably more for a man than a woman because of anatomical differences. Still, women could definitely find some kind of pleasure with the right knowledgeable lover, she supposed.
I had sex with a med student. I would think he should have known how to do things properly. It wasn’t pleasant in any way. Maybe I’m just not a sexual person.
The doorbell rang just as she’d walked out of the bedroom and was about to pop a dinner into the microwave. After shoving the low-calorie meal back into the freezer in case it was a medical emergency, she brushed her damp hands on her jeans and went to answer the door with Coco at her heels.
She gaped as she saw Dante Sinclair standing in front of her, a large white bag in his hand and a hesitant grin on his face. Dressed casually in jeans and a dark T-shirt, the man still looked big and dangerous.
“Peace offering,” he informed her in a husky voice, jiggling the bag up in front of his face. “Lobster rolls.”
It was twilight, and the rain was still falling in a light mist. He looked damp and so did the bag he was holding. Sarah grabbed the sack and pulled him through the door.
“You can’t be out yet. Are you crazy?” Dante Sinclair needed to be resting, warm and snug in his own home. He was barely out of the hospital.
Dante shrugged. “I’ve been called worse. I wanted to see if you were okay. Those pills work. But they make me feel a little weird.” He closed the door before asking with a scowl on his face, “Should you really be standing on those cut feet?”
Sarah blinked at him, still trying to figure out why he was even out of the house. “The cuts are fairly superficial. Detective Sinclair, you need to be resting. The pills make you feel strange because you’re supposed to be home in bed sleeping after you take them.”
“I was worried,” he confessed hesitantly.
Sarah eyed him warily, happy that he’d finally taken the pills but wondering if he wasn’t just a little high. “I think you’re stoned, Detective Sinclair.” She took the bag of lobster rolls to the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, “Sit down.” Her house was small, and she could still see him over the breakfast bar as she set her precious cargo down on the countertop. “How did you know I liked lobster rolls?”
“Call me Dante. And finding out what you liked wasn’t exactly difficult detective work. I called Grady and Emily.” He moved up to the breakfast bar, took a seat on one of the stools, and propped his elbows on the counter, staring at her unnervingly.
Her dog trotted over to sit politely at his feet.
“Coco likes you.” Sarah was starting to think she might like him, too, considering he came with a peace offering and had actually taken the time to find out what she liked. But the guy was way too intense, even if he was probably a little wasted on pain pills. “Please tell me you didn’t drive.”
“I didn’t drive,” he answered accommodatingly. “My brother Jared just got into town. He took me to get the lobster rolls and dropped me off.”
Oh, God. Not another single Sinclair brother in Amesport. “Whatever you do, don’t tell Elsie and Beatrice that there’s another Sinclair brother in town.” After grabbing two plates from the cupboard for the lobster rolls, she dropped two on one of the plates and pushed it across the tiled surface between them, along with a napkin.
Dante shook his head. “Those are for you. And who are Elsie and Beatrice?”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “I can’t eat six lobster rolls. Eat.”
“Elsie and Beatrice?” He looked at her curiously as he picked up one of the rolls from his plate.
Something about him seemed different now, and not nearly as sullen, morose, and angry.
Dante didn’t live here permanently, so Sarah assumed he’d never met the dangerous duo. “Town matchmakers. Both over the age of eighty and very sweet ladies. But very scary when they start trying to happily marry off the entire town. I’m surprised they didn’t know your other brother was coming into Amesport. They certainly knew you were on your way.”
She watched as Dante took his first bite, his eyes closing for a moment as he chewed. Sarah wasn’t certain, but she was pretty sure his expression was the same look of rapture that was on her face the first time she tasted the succulent Maine lobster in Amesport. Mixed with mayonnaise, lemon juice, and spices, it was incredible on the warm rolls, which were brushed with butter on each side. “You’ve never had lobster rolls? They’re everywhere here.” She went to the fridge, pulled out two cans of soda, and pushed one toward him.
Dante opened it and took a swig before replying. “I’ve only been here twice, and then I only stayed for a day or two. And had I known about these, I would have gotten some,” he said before taking another bite.
Sarah started on her own roll, the two of them eating in silence for a while before she asked curiously, “Why have you only been here twice? All of the Sinclairs have had a house on the peninsula for years.”
“That was Jared’s idea. He decided we all needed to build a home here since we owned the property. Nobody argued, so he got them built. He did it after Grady put his house on the end of the peninsula. The only two times I even saw my house here was when Emily and Grady were first engaged, and for the wedding. I couldn’t stay long either time.” He stared at her, his expression concerned as he asked, “Should you be standing on that foot?”
Sarah’s heart warmed just a little at the worried look on his face. “I went to med school, and I’m a doctor. I’m used to eating standing up. My feet aren’t hurting. They aren’t cut that badly.”
After he refused another lobster roll, Sarah took both plates, rinsed them, and put them in the dishwasher. “Did you make the plans for the house yourself?” she called over her shoulder.
“Hell, no. The house is too damn big. I can’t find anything there. I have a one-bedroom apartment in Los Angeles, and that’s all I’ve ever needed. I told Jared I wanted an exercise room and a couple of other things. He took care of everything else.” Dante finally looked down at the floor, where Coco still sat calmly at his feet. “Is that supposed to be a dog?”
Sarah took the last sip of her soda before tossing the can in the recycling container under her sink. She walked out to the living room, sat on the arm of her couch, and folded her arms in front of her. “Of course Coco is a dog. She’s a Chipoo.”
Dante turned on the bar stool to face her, a slight smirk on his lips. “What in the hell is a Chipoo? She looks more like a mop with eyes. But at least she’s not a yappy jumper.”
Affronted by his description of her precious canine, Sarah glared at him. “She’s extremely well behaved and trained, so she waits for an invitation to snuggle. A Chipoo is a mixed-breed Chihuahua and poodle.” Coco looked more like a dark brown small poodle, and her hair was long, but she looked like an adorable dog, not a mop. “And why in the world would you let your brother build your house? It doesn’t make any sense.”
Dante shrugged. “Does everything have to make sense to you? He wanted us all to have a house here, and I didn’t give a shit. I didn’t have the time to worry about the details. Since he wanted it more than I didn’t want it, I let him do it.”
Sarah shook her head, but she let the conversation go. It was obvious that the Sinclair brothers had more money than they knew what to do with. Maybe building a seven-figure home on a beautiful seaside peninsula and letting it sit empty made sense to Dante Sinclair, even though she still didn’t see how it would. “If you had my mother, you’d always make sensible decisions,” Sarah muttered to herself, slapping her thigh a few times to allow Coco to jump into her lap. She stroked the thick fur on her pet, and Coco settled comfortably into her lap.
“Lucky dog,” Dante commented huskily before adding, “Your mother was a slave driver? You were already a prodigy. What the hell else did she want?”
Sarah sighed, stroking Coco’s head absently as she replied. “My mother is a professor of mathematics in Chicago and a member of Mensa, along with a very long list of other scholastic achievements. The academic world is everything to her. She makes most tiger moms look like kitty cats. Having me move out of Chicago and to a small town to be a family doctor didn’t exactly make her ecstatic. She was disappointed.”
“And your father?”
“He died soon after I was born. But he was a genius, too. A real rocket scientist,” she answered quietly. “What about you? Why did you become a cop? A billionaire cop doesn’t seem very logical.” It was a question she’d been dying to ask even before she’d met Dante Sinclair.
“It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do. My father was an abusive drunk, and luckily he was dead before I got out of high school. So I was free to pursue any career I wanted. And I wanted to be a cop. I went to college first, hoping I could advance through the ranks faster. I knew I wanted homicide, and I’d have to spend my time on patrol first. I got what I wanted when I turned twenty-six and got assigned to homicide.”
“And you liked it?”
Dante shrugged. “I was satisfied. I think doing police work is kind of like a calling, the same as wanting to be a doctor. As a homicide detective, I was basically on the job twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Murders usually didn’t happen in my district in broad daylight.”
Sarah could understand that. “I never wanted to do anything else, either.” She’d dreamed of being a doctor all her life, starting to fulfill her dreams at the same time most girls were just noticing that boys existed.
“Guess you didn’t have much of a childhood, huh?” Dante mentioned casually, as though he had almost read her mind.
Sarah smiled wearily. “I don’t ever remember being a child. When most girls were dreaming of being cheerleaders, I was studying college-level biology. I’ve always been . . . different. Amesport is the first place where I feel like I actually belong. I’m socially awkward, but nobody cares. They talk to me anyway. There’s such a mixture of different personalities here that I guess I fit in.”
“You’re not different,” Dante growled. “You’re special. Gifted. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Alone is alone, right? For whatever reason it might be,” she replied, giving Dante a questioning look. He was looking at her strangely, a gaze that she could almost swear was somewhat possessive and heated, and she started to squirm, feeling like a specimen under a microscope. Breaking contact with his fiery eyes, she set Coco on the floor and got up. “You need to be resting. I’ll take you home.”
Dante caught her upper arm as she walked past him, pulling her body close to his before he snaked an arm around her waist. Sarah’s breath hitched as her hips slid between his jeans-clad thighs. With him sitting on the stool, they were nearly at the same height, and she was eye to eye with him, the fierce, stormy look he was giving her was even more frightening up close and personal.
“No boyfriend?” he asked gruffly.
Sarah shook her head slowly, unable to break away from his enthralling eyes and powerful grip around her waist. Honestly, she wasn’t sure she wanted to. Even injured, Dante seemed to pulsate with raw power and dominance that drew her to get perilously close to him.
“Have you ever been with a man?” His question was low, and spoken in a tone that demanded an answer.
Sarah wasn’t even going to pretend she didn’t understand what he was asking. “Once. In med school. It was awkward and painful. I was dating another medical student, and I wanted to see what I might be missing. He broke up with me the next day. I guess neither of us really liked it. Or maybe I wasn’t very good at it. I couldn’t see what the big deal was all about. It’s mating for the human species, and that’s it. I’ve never really figured out what other reason there is to do it.” She was speaking the truth, but she had been curious. So she’d tried it, only to find out that she was really missing out on nothing.
“Christ! Are you screwing with me? Is it possible to be a doctor and stay that innocent?” Dante rasped, his gaze sweeping over her face as though he were looking for something.
Her heart was thundering against her sternum as she watched his face, the healing scar on his cheek almost making him even more appealing, even more dangerous. “I’m not innocent and I’m not a virgin. I just don’t like sexual intercourse. It’s not very enjoyable.”
Dante slid his hand through her hair and caressed the sensitive skin at the back of her neck as he smiled wickedly. “I think I just found one subject where you’re completely misinformed. There’s this little thing called sexual chemistry that you aren’t going to read about in textbooks.”
Okay. Yeah. Some people seemed to feel sexual chemistry and attraction, but she didn’t. Obviously, she understood medically why sex might be enjoyable, but for her, it just wasn’t. She’d never had the desire to try it again. “There isn’t a thing that I can’t tell you about the human anatomy. There’s no basis to believe in sexual chemistry. Sexual attraction is just people assessing the reproductive potential of prospective mates,” she argued, but she licked her lips nervously, wanting to lean into the intense heat that Dante seemed to be throwing off in waves from his ripped, hard body. Her nipples were beginning to get painfully hard, and she nearly moaned as the hand at her waist slipped beneath the hem of her shirt and started stroking over the bare skin at her waist and back. He made lazy little circles with his palm and fingers, sensitizing every area he touched.
“When I look at you, the last thing I’m thinking about is whether or not you can reproduce. I’m thinking about burying my cock inside you simply because it would feel so damn good,” he answered seductively.
Sarah opened her mouth to say something, but she wasn’t sure how to respond. Her body was reacting to his, and it certainly had nothing to do with his genetic potential as a prospective mate. Pure and simple . . . it was lust. “There’s no such thing as true sexual chemistry,” she answered weakly, even as her body said differently.
“You have no idea just how satisfying a great fuck can be,” he told her in a harsh whisper, the hand at the back of her head spearing into her hair, holding her in a way that didn’t hurt but definitely left him in control. “Kiss me,” he commanded huskily, pulling her head to him, their lips close together.
Oh, God. Sarah couldn’t catch her breath, and she was panting lightly with the need to breach the distance between their mouths. “Dante, no. You’re injured and hurting.” Confused, she tried to pull gently away from him, but he tightened his arm around her waist, and she didn’t have the willpower or the desire to pull harder to get free. She felt ensnared and captured, and she felt strangely compelled to devour the man holding her captive. Sarah’s core clenched as she felt his heated breath skitter along her lips, waiting.
“Kiss me, dammit,” he ordered again, this time with a persuasive tone.
“I can’t. I don’t want to hurt you,” she whimpered, desperate to be connected to him, feel his mouth against hers. “I’m your doctor.” She completely gave up arguing the sexual chemistry issue. Whether this was lust or sexual chemistry didn’t matter. It was something she’d never experienced before, and it had her dumbfounded.
“Screw your Hippocratic oath. I need this more than I need a doctor,” Dante growled as he pulled her mouth to his with a needy groan.
Sarah tried to remember that he was injured and she couldn’t grasp on to him. Instead, she curled her hands around the back of the chair and held on for dear life as Dante claimed her mouth with fervent possessiveness. The kiss swept every thought from her head except the delicious thrill of his tongue bursting through the seam of her lips to conquer and entwine them both in an embrace that rocked Sarah’s whole world. Heat engulfed her entire body as Dante squeezed the cheek of her ass and pulled her core flush against his pulsating erection. She moaned as she pressed her pelvis against him, cursing the denim that separated her from his engorged cock.
She completely lost herself in his sultry, heated kiss, squirming against him as he nipped at her lower lip and then swept his tongue over it soothingly, teasingly.
“I want you, Sarah. I’ll be the man to show you just how hot you can burn and how satisfying a hard, wild fuck can be.” His low baritone was strained and insistent.
Yes. Yes. Yes.
Sarah’s entire body was vibrating with need, clamoring to be possessed by this powerful male, the first man to ever make her feel this way. It was exhilarating and frightening both at the same time.
“I hate to break up this cozy little interlude, but it’s time to go home, Dante.” The male voice coming from the doorway sounded mischievous and nonchalant.
Flustered, Sarah nearly leaped from between Dante’s legs, her face flushing as she turned to the incredibly handsome man who had just let himself into her house. She had no doubt that this was Jared, Dante’s brother. “You could have knocked,” she muttered, embarrassed.
“I did, actually. Several times. I guess you were both occupied,” he replied casually. “The door was unlocked so I finally came in.”
Oh, God. Sarah wanted to crawl under a rock somewhere and never come out. It was bad enough that she had been so involved in Dante’s kiss that she hadn’t heard the door, but he was her patient. Dante Sinclair had injuries that would have left any other man in bed crying for his mommy, even if he was taking something for pain. Yet she’d practically been mauling him and begging for more. “I’m sorry,” she said, mortified. “He does need to be home in bed.”
Jared lifted an eyebrow playfully.
“Alone,” she added hurriedly. “Sleeping.”
“Don’t apologize to him,” Dante told her in an irritated voice. “He just walked right into your house.”
Jared smirked. “Didn’t you hear me knock? You’re the cop.”
“I heard you. I just hoped you had enough sense to go away. Obviously I was wrong.” Dante glared at his brother.
Sarah watched the two men, one irritated and the other looking highly amused. She’d never met Jared Sinclair, but he was another powerful and attractive man, just like his brothers. He and Dante shared some of the same physical features, but where Dante was a bit raw, this man was . . . polished. Jared’s hair was more auburn than dark brown. Longer than Dante’s, it was cut in a manner that looked professional, but she could see a few curls in the sleek style. Jared’s eyes were almost a jade green, and the lashes surrounding those startling eyes were so thick that any woman would envy them. Maybe an inch or so shorter than Dante, Jared had the same muscular build as his brother’s, covered by casual slacks, a collared button-down shirt that was probably silk, and what looked like very expensive leather casual shoes.
“Take Dante home, Mr. Sinclair. Give him his meds and don’t let him leave the house for a week. He really should be resting so that he can heal faster. If anything hurts at all, he shouldn’t be doing it,” Sarah instructed almost breathlessly, ashamed that she’d let herself get so carried away.
“Call me Jared, please,” the man insisted as he shot her a playful grin. “And I’m sorry I came in. I was getting worried. I waited in the car, but it’s way past the time that Dante and I agreed on. I knew he shouldn’t be out for long.”
“I understand,” Sarah assured him hurriedly. “I should have taken him home as soon as he got here. Can you keep him at home for a while? It will help him heal up faster.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
Both men answered at the same time, Jared in the affirmative and Dante with a negative. She couldn’t help but smile.
Jared opened the door and stepped through. “Let’s go, Princess,” he told Dante mockingly. “This is probably the one time in our entire lives that I can actually kick your ass. I’m taking advantage of it.”
“Only in your dreams, little brother.” Dante stressed the word “little” antagonistically as he glared at Jared’s back, but he headed for the door. Before he followed Jared, he stopped and silently looked down at her.
Sarah’s heart accelerated as he whispered in a husky voice, “We’ll finish this later. And don’t apologize for what happened. It didn’t hurt a bit.”
“It shouldn’t have happened,” she whispered back anxiously. “I’m your physician.” Her ethics were screaming at her now.
“It did happen, and it will happen again. Count on it,” Dante warned her ominously as he kissed her on the forehead and followed his brother. “Get off those feet,” he called back over his shoulder as he slowly followed his brother out to the car.
Sarah closed the door and leaned back against it, wondering what the hell had just happened.
She tried for the rest of the evening to figure out the logic for her brief interlude with Dante Sinclair, and she failed miserably, thinking maybe she needed to research all the recent data on sexual chemistry.