A Maine Christmas...or Two (3 page)

The road ended at his house, and Emily forged ahead, parking her truck in the circular driveway and turning off the engine.

I must be insane!

Before she had time to think about what she was doing and leave, Emily grabbed her purse and slammed the door of the truck closed. Glad she was dressed in a sweater and jeans for the weather, she just wished she was also wearing a pair of boots, her sneakers slipping and sliding in the fresh, wet snow.

The house was massive, and she gaped at the heavy oak doors in front of her, wanting to run away as fast as her slippery shoes would take her.

“What kind of single guy owns a house this humungous?” she whispered in awe.

Answering herself, she said, “A man who has enough money to donate for the Youth Center.”

With that thought in mind, she strode determinedly forward and pressed the doorbell harder than she needed to, causing her feet to slide out from under her and land ungracefully in a heap on Grady Sinclair’s doorstep.

That was a fabulous and graceful entrance, Emily. Impress him with your professionalism.

Disgusted with herself, she scrambled for purchase on the icy stone porch, trying to hastily get to her feet before he answered the door, but she slid again and landed flat on her rear end, flinching as her tailbone hit the unyielding surface. “Damn!”

Abruptly, the door swung open, and Emily Sinclair got her first look at the beast from an undignified position on her frozen ass.

Her glasses were wet and foggy, but he looked like no beast she had ever seen. He did, however, look pretty fierce, dark, and dangerous. Without saying a word, Grady Sinclair stuck his hand out as though he completely expected her to take it. She did, grasping his hand as he pulled her to her feet like she was as light as a feather. Trying to straighten up quickly to regain some modicum of dignity, she gawked up at him. She was tall for a woman, but he dwarfed her, towering over her menacingly. He was dressed informally in a tan thermal shirt that stretched across rippling muscles and a massive chest. He was sporting a pair of jeans that looked worn, and he filled them out in a way she’d never seen a man wear a pair of jeans before.

Holy crap!
Grady Sinclair was hot. Scorching hot. His dark hair was mussed, and he had a just-rolled-out-of-bed look that made her want to drag him back to a bedroom. Any bedroom. He looked like he hadn’t shaved today, and the dark, masculine stubble on his jaw just added to the testosterone waves she swore she could almost feel pulsating from his magnificent body and entering hers, making her squirm just a little at her body’s reaction to him.

She drew in a deep breath as his gray-eyed stare seemed to assess her, and finally came to rest on her face. “Hi,” she said weakly, unable to form any intelligent words right at the moment. Her brain was mush and her cheeks flushed pink with mortification. This just wasn’t the businesslike, graceful entrance she had hoped for, and her lustful reaction to Grady Sinclair had her uncharacteristically flustered.

I need to get it together. I’m acting like an idiot. I need this donation.

He grabbed a fistful of her jacket and tugged her inside, closing the door behind her. Plucking the glasses from her face, he used his shirt to clean them before he handed them back to her. “You don’t look like one of Evan’s usual women,” he said gruffly. “Bedroom is upstairs.” He pointed his thumb toward the spiral staircase on the far side of the enormous front room.

Emily stared at him blankly for a moment, and then slanted her gaze toward the living room to try to clear her head. She certainly couldn’t seem to think straight when she was looking directly at
him.

Bedroom? What the hell is he talking about? Evan’s women?

“I think you have me mistaken for someone else. I don’t know you, and I’m not acquainted with Evan. I came to ask a favor.”
Who does he think I am?

“And you’re offering
your
favors for a favor, right?” he asked grimly, his graveled baritone almost disapproving.

Her head jerked back to his face. “What? No. What kind of favor?” she replied suspiciously.

“My brother Evan told me I needed to get laid, which generally is followed by a woman arriving here at my house. I usually just send the women away with a check. But I’ve decided I’ll take you,” he said huskily.

Emily gulped. “Someone sends you women…as in prostitutes?” Good God, the last thing Grady Sinclair needed was a hooker. She couldn’t think of one single woman who would actually turn him down. “Do I look like a whore?” she asked irritably, suddenly offended by the fact that he’d thought she was for sale. But she felt a shiver of need slide down her spine and land right between her thighs at the thought that he actually wanted her, and what he might do to her if she
was
actually a woman for hire. She wasn’t beautiful and she was curvy, her ample figure a little more than most men found attractive.

He reached out and unzipped her jacket, divesting her of the garment and hanging it on a hook by the door. Turning back to her, he said slowly, “Nope. You don’t. That’s why I want to fuck you.”

Emily gasped, his blatant words and heated appraisal making her flush. “Well, I don’t know Evan and I don’t want to do
that.
”
Liar. Liar.
She so
did
want to do
that
, but she wasn’t about to admit it when he’d just insulted her. Besides, she didn’t do casual sex. “I’m Emily Ashworth and I’m the director of the Youth Center of Amesport. I wanted to talk to you about a possible donation.”

She shuddered as his intense, molten gaze swept over her body and back to her face, staring at her with a look so smoldering and hungry that her core clenched in response.

“You’re cold,” he said abruptly, taking her frozen hand in his and leading her through the living room, down the hallway and into a cheery kitchen. “Sit,” he demanded huskily as he dropped her hand, halting at the kitchen table.

Emily sat, so confused that she was unable to make herself do anything else. She watched silently as Grady Sinclair moved around the kitchen, his large body maneuvering with a fluidity of motion that shouldn’t be possible for a man as large and muscular as he was. Watching him from behind was almost mesmerizing. She was jealous of the denim that was cupping an ass so tight that she could see the flex of muscle beneath the seat of his jeans as he moved, and it was a view she couldn’t bring herself to look away from for some time. Finally, ripping her gaze from him, she let her eyes wander around the kitchen—a bright, airy room with beautiful granite countertops and polished wood floors. Beyond, there was a dining room with a formal, polished wood table, but the room was dim, sparsely furnished, and looked seldom used.

He sauntered to the kitchen table moments later and pushed a mug in front of her, sitting down next to her with his own cup in hand. Emily placed her cold fingers around the mug, sighing as she inhaled the hot, fragrant brew. It was a hot apple cider, and she took a long sip, the warm liquid instantly starting to warm her. “Thank you,” she told him quietly as she set her mug back on the table. “So will you consider it?”

“Why?” he questioned darkly, his heated gaze spearing her as she squirmed uncomfortably in her chair.

“The Center needs money.”

“Why?” he asked again, lifting a brow as he sipped his drink, his eyes never leaving her.

He knows I’m desperate, that there’s a reason I’m here so late asking for money.

“A man I was dating stole the operating money from the Center and we can’t keep running without a significant donation,” she admitted, wondering why she was feeling the need to be completely honest with him.

Starting hesitantly, she spilled the entire story about the money being stolen as Grady watched her, his expression unreadable as he listened. “So would you be willing to help?” she asked nervously as she finished her story.

He was silent, his expression contemplative as he continued to look at her. Intense minutes passed before he finally answered, “I might be willing to consider it. But I’d want something in return.”

She picked up her mug and took another sip of cider, swallowing awkwardly before she spoke again. “What? I’ll do whatever I can to get you what you want.” The whole future of Amesport depended on his answer. Emily knew she had nowhere else to go and no other solution.

“That’s good, because you’re the only one who can get it for me,” he agreed casually. “Because what I really want is
you
.”

Emily nearly choked, sputtering as she swallowed. Dear God, maybe Grady Sinclair
was
the Amesport Beast after all. “I need to give the town of Amesport a Christmas, they need the Center to stay open, and I’ll do anything to keep from disappointing the kids there, but I’m not sleeping with you to do it,” she told him indignantly.

“We don’t need to sleep,” Grady replied gruffly. “And I hate Christmas.”

How could he hate Christmas? Who hated Christmas except Scrooge?

Emily looked around the massive, tastefully decorated home: not a single red or green decoration in sight. She hadn’t seen one Christmas item in his living room, and there was nothing in the dining room or kitchen. “I happen to love Christmas. It’s the season of giving and helping others, a time of forgiveness and good cheer.”

“Not in my experience,” Grady replied, rising from his chair to take his mug to the sink. “It’s a time of commercial greed where everyone expects something. Nobody is really happy. It’s not real. People are doing what they think is expected of them.”

Emily stood up and stalked over to him, rinsed out both mugs in the sink and placed them in the dishwasher. “It’s the happiest time of the year.” Emily placed her hands on her hips and stared up at Grady, wondering what had made him so cynical. Her irritation drained away as she caught a glimpse of vulnerability in his eyes, a look that told her he wasn’t being cruel. He was telling her what Christmas had been like for
him
, and for just a moment, Emily had the craziest compulsion to wrap her arms around him and show him that not everyone in the world wanted something from him.

But even I want something from him. I want funds for the Center.

Grady Sinclair was incredibly wealthy, but there was more to life than money, and Emily wondered if anyone had ever noticed that Grady Sinclair needed more than money could buy. Had anyone ever given him anything, something that couldn’t be measured in monetary value?

“I can’t have sex with you for money, Mr. Sinclair,” Emily told him flatly.

“I’ll donate a million dollars,” he said huskily, his large body moving closer, pinning her between his body and the sink. “And I’m Grady. I don’t want you calling me Mr. Sinclair. Too many of us.”

“I can’t,” she whispered quietly, almost regretting her ethics. “And nobody donates a million dollars to the YCOA.”

“I would,” he rumbled.

His scent surrounded her as his hands landed on the edge of the sink, a fragrance so masculine that it was intoxicating her. Grady smelled like the ocean, pine, and a tantalizing musk that was uniquely
him.

Their gazes locked and held; time suspended as Emily began drowning in the swirling, molten pools of gray that reminded her of a storm coming off the ocean. He captured her in the same way as a violent storm, her heart racing as she waited for a force of nature that seemed inevitable.

She didn’t really believe he’d donate a million bucks to her Center just to sleep with her, but she’d never seen a man look at her like this, like he needed to have her or die. Unfortunately, Emily had a feeling that she was gazing at him exactly the same way.

“The boyfriend who stole from you…did you love him?” Grady growled, his face a mask of ambivalence, but his eyes were saying something completely different.

“We were only dating for a few weeks. And no, I didn’t love him. Obviously he was only after money. He wasn’t interested in me.” It hurt, but Emily knew it was true. She had been a pawn in Paul’s game, a non-person who was disposable.

“Did you fuck him?” Grady asked bluntly.

“No. Of course not. I barely knew him,” Emily replied, offended.

“Good.” A satisfied look replaced his severe expression. “He was an asshole.”

Grady had moved so close that she could feel his warm breath on her cheek, his close proximity making her quiver with need.

“Please,” she whispered, although she didn’t have a clue what she really wanted. All she knew was that she was caught up in some crazy compulsion that she couldn’t seem to break away from. She wrapped her arms around his neck, still held in thrall by the scent of him, the feel of his muscular body pressed against hers.

Without another word, Grady lowered his head and took her mouth with his, and she suddenly knew exactly what she had wanted. Emily surrendered to him with a wanton moan, losing herself completely to the beast.

G
rady had known
he wanted the woman in his arms from the moment he’d seen her sitting on her ass on his doorstep, looking up at him with those innocent blue eyes through crooked glasses, and an embarrassed expression. Emily Ashworth had looked like an angel that had crash-landed on his porch, and he’d been disappointed when he remembered that Evan had threatened to send him another hook-up. That had been the last thing he’d wanted…until he saw Emily. His cock had jumped to attention almost immediately, and all he’d wanted to do was seize the woman, throw her over his shoulder, and make her his as quickly as humanly possible.

Mine.

Spearing his hands through her hair, he groaned into her mouth as the tie holding her hair back gave way, spilling the silky strands over his fingers, caressing his hands like a lover. He felt greedy and desperate, his mouth tasting, his tongue trying to claim her. She tasted like ambrosia, and he couldn’t get enough. All he wanted to do was devour her whole, but she’d already said no, which made him even more frenzied. There was something about this woman that was seeping into his skin as he held her, melting the ice around his heart, and starting to relieve the restlessness and loneliness that were his constant companions. It was as exhilarating as it was frightening.

I’m happy being alone. I do what I want, when I want. I like it that way.

Grady was lying to himself, and he knew it. Panicked, he lifted his mouth from hers, an effort that was nearly superhuman.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Separating himself from her that abruptly had been painful.

Glancing down at her just-been-thoroughly-ravaged look, Grady fought not to swoop down on her again and lose himself in her heat all over again.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

“Give me a week, and I’ll give you a million dollars.” The impulsive comment sprang from his mouth without him thinking about it. “No sex, but I want you to stay here at the house. Just show me Christmas.” He was no longer interested in a quick screw for money. Not from her, not from Emily. But he was desperate to get her close to him and keep her there.

Grady’s heart was thundering, and his breath was coming heavy in and out of his lungs.

Say yes!

He watched as her brows crinkled in a thoughtful expression. “How?” she whispered in a low,
fuck-me
voice that nearly made him come undone.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t really ever celebrated Christmas. Not the way normal people do, anyway. Make me see it the way you do. Do whatever you usually do here with me.”

Oh, hell yeah.
He wanted this woman near him, for as long as he could keep her here. His enormous house felt different with her here.
He
felt different.

“You’ll really donate money to the Center if I spend a week with you?” she asked, as though she were confused by the whole idea.

“You’re not involved with someone else, right?” The question came out casually, but Grady’s heart clenched at the thought. Granted, the guy she was dating had just hauled ass with all her money, but there
could
be someone else.

“No. There was just the thief, and even he didn’t really want me,” she replied sadly, her eyes breaking contact with his to land in the center of his chest.

Grady wanted to break every bone in the asshole’s body. His arms came up to stroke her back and he pulled her against him, as though he could protect her from the world. How any man could push this woman away was beyond him. “Was he caught?”

“No,” she replied despairingly.

“Give me his information. I’ll find him.”

“The police can’t track him. They’re sure it was a false identity.”

“I will,” Grady vowed confidently. He had so many connections that there was nobody he couldn’t track down. “In the meantime, I’ll give you the money and you give me your word that you’ll spend Christmas with me. What about your family?”

“Only child, a late-in-life surprise for my parents,” she replied in a muffled voice against his chest. “Mom and Dad are snowbirds now. They spend the winter in Florida. I couldn’t go this year.”

The sorrow in her voice made Grady determined to make this the best Christmas season she’d ever had. So what if he personally hated the holidays? Emily obviously didn’t, and she was alone this year, just like him. “Then spend it here with me.”

She pulled her head back and looked at him with an earnest expression as she asked, “Why me? Why this?”

“Because it’s what I want,” he answered, knowing it was the truth. “And you said you’d give me what I wanted.”

“You promise no sex?” she asked hesitantly.

“Only if you beg,” he answered arrogantly, although he was starting to wonder if he might end up being the one pleading. Her sweetness tempted him, and he was going to have a very hard time trying not to devour her.

Pulling away from him, he saw her roll her eyes at his bravado, and it brought an involuntary smile to his lips.

“You have a deal. But I’m bringing a tree and all of my Christmas decorations here,” she told him in a threatening voice as he followed her toward the door.

Great.
He could hardly wait. He avoided red and green decorations like the plague. But if it would bring her back, she could plaster them in every corner of his house, as long as
she
came along with the red bows and mistletoe.

He helped her into her coat and slammed his feet into his heavy boots, grabbing a jacket from the closet and putting it on as he followed her out of the house.

“This is what you’re driving?” he said irritably, his eyes roaming over the bald tires on the small truck. “It looks like a goddamn deathtrap.”

The ground was covered in a couple inches of snow, wet and slippery moisture that would have her sliding everywhere on the roads.

“I know how to drive in snow,” she replied stubbornly as she opened the door of her truck.

“You need a new vehicle,” he replied in a surly tone. She couldn’t be driving on the road in this piece of shit. Slapping a hand on the window of her truck, he slammed the door closed and dug in his pocket, bringing out a set of keys. “Drive my truck. It’s too slick to drive around with those tires. There’s no tread left.”

“I can still get some mileage out of them,” Emily retorted snappishly. “They aren’t that bad.”

She was defensive, and Grady immediately knew that she probably couldn’t afford it. “Don’t you get paid?”

“Not much,” she admitted with a sigh. “But I like my job.”

“Drive my truck or our deal is off,” he grumbled, dangling the set of keys in front of her face.

“I can’t take your vehicle,” she protested adamantly.

He shrugged. “I have several.” He pointed to a huge truck on the other side of the circular drive. “Get into the truck, Emily.”

She took the keys reluctantly, drawing a breath to argue as her feet started to skid. Grady scooped her up and bodily carried her to his truck. “Open the door,” he ordered, not giving her a chance to argue. She pulled the heavy door open and he deposited her in the driver’s seat. “Be careful,” he demanded after giving her a rundown of where everything was in the vehicle. “There isn’t a lot of snow, but it’s slippery. Call me when you get home safe.”

“I don’t have your number,” she said, shaking her head.

“Cell phone,” he ordered, holding out his hand.

Emily dug in her purse and handed it to him.

He programmed his number in and handed it back. “Now you have it.” Digging in the pocket of his jeans, he pulled out a business card from his wallet and handed it to her. “Take this too.” He wanted her to have anything with his name on it, anything to remind her of him, and his contact information available everywhere.

“Are you really sure—”

“I’ll have the money transferred into the YCOA account tomorrow. Get me the bank account number.” He wasn’t about to give her time to second-guess her decision. Hell, he’d wire the money right now if he thought it would get her locked into the deal tighter. “You look tired. You need sleep.” He could see the worry showing on her face, and tiny black circles under her eyes. He didn’t like it. The desire to see her happy was almost a compulsion, and he was damn near ready to do almost anything to see her smile and remove the signs of stress on her beautiful face.

She shook her head, exasperated, and tucked the card into her purse. “Does anyone ever argue with you or refuse you?” she asked curiously.

“I don’t usually ask for anything,” he answered bluntly, unable to stop himself from swooping down and kissing her. Her lips warmed beneath his, and Grady wanted to drag her back into the house and warm every part of her body until she begged for mercy. But he stepped back and looked away, closing the door of the truck so she wouldn’t get too cold, his protective instincts stronger than his own desire.

He watched the taillights disappear down the road, knowing his life had just changed completely, and he wasn’t sure what, if anything, he was going to do about it.

Grady trudged slowly back into the house, divesting himself of his boots and jacket in the foyer, and made his way into his home office.

Picking up the phone, he hoped that Simon Hudson was at home. The two of them had met several years ago, and had become friends almost immediately. Simon had very successfully launched a line of computer games that were still a sensation, while Simon’s business partner and brother, Sam, had started a branch of the company that specialized in investments and venture capitalism, the same thing that Evan had done to turn his multi-millionaire status into a billionaire title. Grady and Simon had connected because they were so much alike back then, both of them reclusive computer nerds. But since Simon had met and married his wife, Kara, who had recently delivered a new baby, Simon wasn’t the same guy anymore. At one time, Simon’s only love had been his computer and his focused drive to design the most challenging computer games on the market. And he’d more than achieved that goal. But now, Simon was completely and totally obsessed with his wife and child. Grady had hoped Simon would get over it, the newness of his relationship wearing off after a while, and turn back into the sensible friend he had known before Simon had met Kara. It didn’t happen, and although he and Simon still talked, Grady couldn’t begin to understand his friend’s obsession with a woman.

Picking up the phone in his office, Grady hit the speed dial, thinking that if anyone could understand an almost immediate obsession with a female, it was Simon Hudson.

Grady ignored Simon’s abrupt greeting and blurted out immediately, “There’s something seriously wrong with me. I met this woman today and now I don’t feel like myself anymore. I felt literally nauseous when she left. Shit! Maybe I’m getting the flu. What the hell do I do now?” Grady finished with a huff, his air completely gone.

Simon was silent for a moment before Grady finally heard an evil laugh on the other end of the line. Grady plopped into his office chair and propped his feet on the desk, waiting for Simon to stop laughing uproariously.

“Marry her,” Simon replied, his voice actually jovial. “Don’t turn yourself inside out like I did. Throw her over your shoulder and take her, kicking and screaming if you need to, and find the nearest justice of the peace. Put yourself out of your misery early, buddy.”

“I just met the woman,” Grady answered irritably.

“Doesn’t matter. If she’s already making you crazy, you’re screwed. Would you be willing to do anything just to see her again?” Simon questioned mildly.

“A million bucks,” Grady admitted. “I offered to donate a million dollars to her charity to spend Christmas with her.”

Simon whistled. “You got it bad. You hate Christmas.”

“I know,” Grady answered wretchedly. “But she wouldn’t fuck me, so I was desperate.”

“Trust me, the fucking just makes it even worse. Then you’ll want her all the time, every minute of the day.” Simon hesitated before asking, “Is she worth it?”

Grady thought about that for a minute, remembering Emily’s vulnerable expression and how happy he had felt just looking at her and feeling her body pressed against him. “I think so. I mean, I just met her, so I guess it’s hard to tell. She seems to take away the loneliness and she made me smile. She’s,” he paused for a moment before finishing, “different. Not like any woman I’ve ever met. She wanted a donation for her organization, but she didn’t seem interested in anything for herself. She refused to fuck me for money. And I was actually happy about that. Why the hell would I be happy? I wanted her horizontal.”

“Maybe because you want her to like you?” Simon mused.

“Nobody likes me except you,” Grady answered harshly.

“Who says I like you? You can be a real asshole sometimes,” Simon answered, amused.

“And you aren’t?” Grady shot back automatically, used to sparring with Simon.

“I say if she can put up with your ornery ass, just marry her. It took me thirty-three years to find a woman who could tolerate me,” Simon replied happily.

“I’m only thirty-one. And I think your marriage is a little more than that,” Grady said, swinging his feet off the desk and swiveling around uncomfortably in his chair. He’d never talked to Simon about Kara much because he’d never understood his friend’s obsession with her.