It could still be anything, some other reason.
He cursed himself for caring, his curiosity getting the better of him as he continued to trudge after her.
She’d disappeared from the boardwalk, obviously making her way to the sandy, deserted beach. The weather was dismal, and it had been raining all day long. Yeah, there was a temporary break in the storms at the moment, but all Jared had to do was take one look at the sky and he could see the next one quickly moving into Amesport. The dark clouds were coming straight toward the small Maine coastal town—which was the primary reason most sane people were indoors right now. The streets and beach were nearly deserted.
Cursing his fascination with the curvy brunette, he took a slug of his coffee from Brew Magic and headed for the boardwalk. Personally, Jared loved the darkness of the stormy day, the crashing of thunder and deluge of rain matching the agitating restlessness he felt inside himself. He didn’t much care if he acted like a prick most of the time. It was better than trying to fake a happiness that didn’t exist for him.
I wish I’d never left the Peninsula and come into town. I wish I had stayed indoors and dry like the tourists are doing today. Then I never would have seen her, never would have known she was even upset.
Since he was probably the worst cook in the world, he’d driven from his home on the Amesport Peninsula into town to get something to eat. Just as he’d been heading back to his vehicle, he’d stopped to stare across the street at Mara’s store. Two very different, odd compulsions struck him deep in his gut whenever he saw the monstrous old structure that was Mara Ross’s shop and home. Certainly, he was drawn to the old residence because it was part of the Sinclair history in Amesport, a house that had belonged to a sea captain who was his ancestor. Every time he looked at the home, he wondered what it had looked like two hundred years ago. Hell, he was an architect by education. Wasn’t it normal to imagine seeing the rambling old structure as it had been in its glory days? Jared could shake those feelings off because of his education and occupation. He loved old houses in general, the sense of history he felt when he was near them. Understandable, perhaps—considering his background. What really disconcerted him was his obsession with the building’s occupant, Mara Ross.
She helped me out a few times. It’s normal to feel a certain amount of gratitude, right?
Jared was bullshitting himself, and he knew it. There were a lot of people who had helped him research the Sinclair history in the town of Amesport since he’d arrived there for a visit to his vacation house weeks ago. Intrigued because he’d never known just how entrenched the Sinclairs had been in this community historically, he’d sought information just for the hell of it in the beginning. The more he learned, the more he wanted to put all the puzzle pieces together of his family history. Although he was grateful to everyone who had helped him put the mystery of his Amesport ancestors together, he didn’t feel any inexplicable pull toward a single one of them—except her.
Oblivious to the damage he was doing to his casual but expensive Italian leather shoes, Jared left the boardwalk and went down the small incline to the beach, his feet sinking into the wet sand.
Where the hell did she go?
His heart hammered in alarm as his eyes swept over the deserted beach, not seeing another living soul. The violence of the crashing waves hitting the shore increased his urgency to locate her . . . until he finally saw her, sitting alone at the end of the rock formations near the pier, her head bowed in what looked like defeat.
Leave. Don’t get involved. It’s none of my damn business why she’s upset. She obviously wants her privacy. Go. Now.
He avoided emotional scenes like incurable diseases. The last thing he wanted to do was get involved in some female’s problems, a woman he’d only talked to briefly a handful of times. He hardly knew her. And he didn’t do drama. Staying in control of his own emotions was critically important to him. The only way he’d found to accomplish that was to avoid caring about much of anything. And that included sad, crying, beautiful women like Mara Ross.
She’s trouble.
Jared tried to turn away. He really did. But for some unknown reason, he found himself drawn to her sorrow like a magnet. His brain might be telling him to go before she noticed he was there, to let her sort things out herself. But instead, he found himself striding across the sand and to the rocks, making his way stealthily to the end of the stone edifice where she was sitting.
Face it, man. You’ve been screwed since the moment you saw her big brown eyes, genuine smile, and curvy figure. For some reason, she messes with your head, and you can no more walk away from her pain than you can stop breathing.
But dammit, he wanted to. Badly.
Sure, he liked a good fuck as much as any guy who was almost thirty years old. He made it a point to deliberately find women who wanted something from him other than emotion. He gave them whatever they wanted materially in return for a night of hot, pleasurable sex for him with no strings attached. Jared didn’t do relationships, and he didn’t do emotional entanglements. The women he screwed didn’t either. And he liked it that way.
Then what in the fuck am I doing here?
He halted behind Mara, wondering again if he was losing his mind along with his ever-present control. The rough seas were spraying his black jeans and button-down green shirt with moisture, slowly saturating his clothing. Mara looked like her jeans and T-shirt were already drenched, but as she stared blankly out at the Atlantic, Jared was pretty certain she hadn’t even noticed that her garments were soaked. Despair seemed to be rolling off her body in waves, and it reached out and wrapped around his icy heart with a vengeance.