No Ordinary Billionaire Read online

  Dante stood, grimacing as he reached for the pain pills, which were still on the table.

  “Pity party time is over, Sinclair,” Dante said in a disgusted whisper, using an expression that Patrick had used on him whenever Dante needed a kick in the ass.

  He’d been acting like a jackass from the minute he woke up from surgery and realized Patrick was dead. He’d been distant with his siblings, even though every one of them had come running when he’d been injured, Evan flying in from across the damn world. And he hadn’t even bothered to check in on Karen and Ben since he’d been in the hospital.

  And he’d hurt Sarah Baxter, a woman who had only been there to help him, doing her own damn job.

  All because I’m mourning my own loss. Sarah was right. What he was doing wasn’t going to help his partner now.

  Dante knew he needed to pull his head out of his ass. That’s what Patrick would have wanted. He’d been numb after hearing about his best friend’s death, burying his emotional agony deep inside himself, wanting to feel the physical pain because it was better than the guilt of knowing that he was still alive while Patrick was dead. Maybe he’d actually been numb because he was in denial. Strangely, as he finally stared grief directly in the face, the physical pain of his injuries came roaring to life without him even trying.

  He grabbed the beer from the table, limped across the kitchen, and poured it down the sink. No more of that shit until I’m healed. Reaching into the cupboard, he grabbed a glass and filled it with water.

  Christ! Even lifting his arm hurt. Every one of his injuries felt like it was on fire, the pain in his chest and ribs the worst.

  If you’re really sorry, you’ll take the damn pills.

  A small, genuine smile formed on Dante’s lips. Sarah Baxter was probably one of the bluntest and most peculiar women he’d ever met, but he actually liked that about her. Honestly, she was a mystery, and the cop in him stood up and took notice—along with another part of his anatomy that he couldn’t seem to control when he looked at her.

  Dammit! He was sorry he hurt her. He was a cop, and his first instincts were always to protect. The police officer in him hated himself for failing to protect Sarah. In fact, he’d caused her injury, which made him even more pissed off at himself. He wouldn’t deny that he wanted to fuck her, and those urges had roared through his body the moment he’d seen her. That was really saying something, considering he wasn’t exactly in any kind of physical shape to even think about wanting to get laid. Yet he was thinking about it, about her. And there was something about Sarah Baxter that fascinated him on more than a physical level. Her mind seemed to process everything to find the logical answer, yet she still seemed to radiate innocence and compassion. It was an odd and intriguing combination.

  Tossing his head back, he took the “damn pills” and swallowed them with the water in his hand, draining the glass before putting it in the sink.

  Dante left the kitchen with a mission. He made several phone calls, the first and longest one to Karen and Ben.

  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, d
ifferent 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.”