“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?”
Mara shrugged, uncomfortable because he had just summed up her work habits perfectly. “Pretty much. The kitchen needs some updated appliances. I have to pull the taffy by hand, so my ability to make it in larger quantities is limited. I make as much as I can for the market.”