Home > No Ordinary Billionaire (The Sinclairs #1)(7)

No Ordinary Billionaire (The Sinclairs #1)(7)
Author: J.S. Scott

Finally, Dante shook his head, a small smile forming on his lips. “Well, I’ll be damned. You look more like a babysitter.”

Without another word, he turned and limped toward the kitchen entrance, leaving Sarah to stare at his perfect ass once again as he retreated, wondering absently if he had even believed her as she followed him. “I’m an internist, and I don’t treat kids. But taking care of you is certainly starting to feel more and more like babysitting,” she muttered, disgruntled, as she escorted him upstairs.


Dante sat at the kitchen table, watching the lithe, blonde woman with more than a little fascination as she moved around his kitchen with fluid, efficient movements. He hadn’t had the heart to make her help him shower, even though he wouldn’t have minded if she had joined him, since he hadn’t gotten laid in a while. Instead, he’d had her wait in the bedroom until he was finished, and then let her look at his wounds with his dick completely covered. He smirked as he wondered if she’d noticed the tent under the towel, especially when she’d touched near the wound on his thigh. Hell, even her scent made him hard. She smelled like fresh rain and vanilla, a scent that suddenly made him feel fucking intoxicated.

“So are you really a doctor? Twenty-seven is awfully young to be a physician.” Even fresh out of med school, she was too young.

But she’s awfully bossy. She’d taken over his kitchen without even asking, letting him know she was making them both something to eat when she had discovered he hadn’t had a meal that day.

“I am a doctor. I was a college freshman at the age of twelve. I finished two college majors, one in biology and another in music, by the time I was sixteen. I graduated med school when I was twenty-one, and I completed a residency in internal medicine in Chicago when I was twenty-four. I practiced for over a year in Chicago before I moved here, and I’ve been in Amesport for almost a year. I just turned twenty-seven last week.”

“A child prodigy,” Dante concluded, watching Sarah as she put the finishing touches on two sandwiches.

She shrugged her shoulders. “I hate that term. I just had accelerated studies.”

Accelerated studies, my ass. She’s a damn genius.

He’d pretty much already figured that out by listening to her speak, but he wasn’t exactly concentrating on her superior brain right at the moment.

Dante’s eyes scanned her perfectly rounded ass and her long legs, picturing them wrapped tightly around his waist as he buried his cock inside her wet heat. Beautiful and gifted would be a more appropriate description of Sarah Baxter, but he didn’t tell her that. He’d made the mistake of mentioning her stunning eyes a few minutes ago, the irises appearing to be a violet shade. He’d then gotten almost a dissertation on how they were actually dark blue, and that violet eyes didn’t exist on the Martin-something-or-other scale of eye color except in cases of albinism. She went on to talk about wearing certain colors, and the level of light making eyes look like a different color. He’d missed most of the details because he’d still been staring into those incredible eyes as she spoke, wondering exactly what color they’d be when they were glazed with desire as she came apart for him. Rather than being off-putting, her intelligence turned him on. She was unlike any other woman he’d ever met. Nothing seemed to really surprise or anger her—except for his moment of stupidity in the basement—so he’d given up trying to piss her off for now and started asking questions.

“Genius IQ?” he guessed, noticing that her hair was dry, and it was a lighter blonde than it had been when it was damp, the ends turning up in fat curls.

“One seventy the last time I was tested. That was a while ago,” she admitted, sounding disgruntled.

“Einstein level,” he commented casually.

Sarah set a ham sandwich in front of him and motioned for him to eat. “Actually, Einstein never took an IQ test. There’s only a rough estimate that his IQ was between one sixty and one eighty. No one really knows for certain.”

“Einstein level,” he confirmed, amused by the data that just seemed to fly out of her mouth. Did she ever have a normal conversation? Dante picked up his sandwich and started to eat, surprised that he was actually feeling hungry for the first time since he’d been shot. Unfortunately, he lost his appetite as soon as she brought over his pain pills and a glass of juice a few minutes later. “I’m not taking the pills. I just took them a while ago.” He figured it was easier to just let her think he’d already taken them. The last thing he wanted was another fucking lecture from someone about those stupid pills.

“No, you didn’t.” Sarah set the pills and juice next to his plate, brought her own sandwich and milk to the table, and sat down in the chair across from him.

Dante scowled as he looked at Sarah’s unhappy expression. No, he hadn’t taken the pills, but he was usually pretty good at bullshitting. He’d developed that talent pretty well in his job. “How do you know?”

Her eyes pierced him with a look that struck him straight in the gut, a look that said she knew he was lying, and she was disappointed. She took a bite of her sandwich, chewing thoughtfully before answering. “Evidence and reasoning, Detective Sinclair. You should understand that better than anyone. You were prescribed sixty pills, and there are still sixty pills in the bottle. I made the obvious conclusion. You haven’t taken a single one of them.”

Shit. Busted! Maybe I really don’t like the fact that she’s so damn smart! She actually counted every single pill. What doctor does that shit?

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