The Billionaire's Voice (The Sinclairs #4)

by J. S. Scott

  “Good.” He smiled, looking relieved.

  “I could cook for you free of charge,” she answered mischievously.

  “I don’t expect you to cook.”

  She winked at him. “I like to eat and you’re paying me well, so I’ll cook when you’re around. Are you hungry?”

  He nodded slowly. “Honestly . . . yeah. I didn’t have anything except coffee this morning. I was eager to get up in the air. We’re supposed to have thunderstorms later and I flew myself in a Cessna.”

  Why am I not surprised that he’s a pilot?

  Really, flying was probably one of his tamer activities.

  She busied herself by moving into the kitchen. Micah followed her. He took a seat at the small table after he asked if he could do anything and she refused his help. Working in a kitchen was something that came as naturally to her as breathing. Turning her back on him to make coffee, she wondered what he was thinking. If there was one thing that was still disconcerting about being deaf, it was the isolation she felt when someone was in the same room unless she was looking at that person directly. As she worked, Tessa realized that the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. In a way, she could sense Micah’s presence, and she didn’t feel alone even though she couldn’t see him. It was an unusual sensation, and one she really hadn’t experienced since she’d lost her hearing.

  Focusing on the task at hand, she had breakfast ready quickly. She didn’t notice what Micah was occupying his time with until she had put their coffee and plates on the table.

  “That’s private,” she growled, snatching a piece of paper from his fingers. “Do you always read other people’s mail?”

  He looked up at her. “Only when it has the logo of my charity on the correspondence. Technically, it’s my mail, too.”

  It didn’t take her long to bury the letter in a kitchen drawer and slam it closed. She should have tossed the silly offer a week ago. The missive did have the Sinclair Fund’s name on the letterhead, but she was still ticked that he had picked it up and was in the process of reading it when she’d taken it away from him.

  “It’s addressed to me,” she told him defensively, folding her arms across her chest.

  “I should have recognized you,” he said, eyeing Tessa curiously now. “You’re Theresa Sullivan. I could never place your face, but I knew I’d seen you before. I’ve seen you skate.”

  It was no surprise that he hadn’t known where he’d seen her previously. Almost nobody connected her previous life with the one she lived now. The Olympic gold medalist in figure skating from almost a decade ago was long gone. Who would know her now? The disabled deaf woman who helped run a broken-down restaurant in a small coastal town was very different from the eighteen-year-old young woman who’d once shined as a rising star. There was no fancy costume, no heavy makeup, and her hair was a tangled mess that she rarely bothered to try to contain in any sense of style anymore. She looked nothing like she had when she was skating competitively.

  Tessa turned her back to him again, nervously fiddling with cutlery and napkins before setting them on the table.

  “I’m not that woman anymore,” she finally replied, seating herself across from him.

  “Of course you are. You’re still Theresa Sullivan, right?”

  “Tessa,” she told him tersely. “Everyone I know has always called me Tessa.” Legally, her name was Theresa, but she’d only used it in competition and on legal documents.

  “Okay, Tessa,” he answered, still staring at her with a calculating look that almost scared her. Micah was no fool, and she knew he could sense her anger and frustration. “Are you going to do it?” He locked eyes with her for a moment, his expression curious.

  Was he joking? “I can’t. I’m deaf. I haven’t skated since I lost my hearing.”

  The letter requesting her to perform in a reunion of past Olympic medalists had saddened her. She’d never be able to be the same woman she’d been ten years ago. Honestly, she wasn’t certain how the Fund’s committee had even learned of her whereabouts. Liam had shielded her, made sure to keep her out of the media. Outside of her circle of friends and some of the townspeople, nobody knew she’d once been one of the most accomplished figure skaters in the world. The small town of Amesport had kept her secret. It had grown over the last ten years, but the original residents had stayed silent, respected the fact that she was healing. Once she’d recovered, Rick had dumped her, and she’d come back home for good, her accident had been old news, and it really hadn’t mattered anymore.

  Micah shrugged as he took a slug of coffee and then dug into his eggs, bacon, and toast. “You could still do it.”

  She picked up her mug, but froze as she read his response. “I can’t perform. I haven’t skated in years, and I can’t even hear the music. The Sinclair Fund obviously doesn’t realize that I can’t hear.”

  One other problem was that the event was taking place in New York City. Tessa was comfortable right here in Amesport. She didn’t want to travel to New York.

  Chewing on his toast, he stared at her for a long time before answering, “I didn’t think you were the type of woman to give up easily.”

  He was calling her a quitter, and that pissed her off. “I’m retired from the sport. I had no choice. Deaf people don’t do skating performances.” She took a sip of her coffee, irritated that he was making it sound like she had any other option than to give up her skating career.

  “The Fund is offering a very lucrative deal, and it’s for a good cause.”

  Tessa felt tears of disappointment spring into her eyes, but she blinked them away as she sipped her coffee and then set the mug back on the table. It wasn’t like she didn’t want to do the appearance; it wasn’t possible. They were offering good payment that she could desperately use, and all profits from the event were going to a children’s charity that she really wanted to support.

  A single tear escaped as she picked up her fork and attacked her eggs. Eating slowly, she avoided looking at his face.

  She couldn’t do it . . . period! Tessa didn’t want to look at Micah and see his disappointed expression. It was clear to her that he really did think she could simply hit the ice and skate again. Maybe he had confidence in her, but she had none in herself when it came to doing the impossible. And she was almost angry at him for making it seem like performing again would be no big deal.

  Maybe he could do anything, and thought nothing of risking his life by jumping from places that weren’t made to be launch sites.

  Maybe he was cocky enough to think that he was invincible.

  She . . . wasn’t.

  The last thing she needed was to feel like a failure . . . again. Not when she was only now regaining control of her life.

  Most of the time, she could forget who she’d been before she’d lost her hearing, but that stupid offer from the Sinclair Fund had temporarily brought it all rushing back with a vengeance. After her hearing loss, she’d put aside all thoughts of skating again. What was the point? It was a career path that she could never follow, and forgetting had been the sensible thing to do back then. She’d lost her fiancé over her handicap, and she’d taken a lot of emotional blows since she’d left Boston and the man she’d once worshipped.

  After Tessa’s father had passed away, her mother had needed help in the restaurant. When her mom had gotten sick, soon after her dad’s death, and then died only a year later, Tessa had been thrust into the role of restaurant owner quickly. Liam had come home for good, giving up a well-loved, lucrative career to be here in Amesport with her. Back then, she’d needed her brother, had clung to him like a lifeline. Now, he was “helping her” until he drove her nearly insane.

  It’s time to move on. I’m finally content with my life now. I can’t go back. I don’t want to go back.

  Finally, she answered, “You don’t understand. You have no idea what it’s like to suddenly lose everything you’ve ever known, everything you care about.” She’d been incredibly isolated, suddenly handic
apped, and unable to do the thing she’d loved most in the world.

  She’d had so many losses over the course of five or six years that she hadn’t been able to take another blow. She’d never had time to recover. Losing her hearing, her fiancé, her skating career, her father, and then finally her mom, all in a relatively short period of time, had nearly killed her.

  Over time, she’d learned to function in a world with no sound. She was finally at peace with her condition. The last thing she needed was to reopen old wounds. She’d come too far to slide backward now.

  There wasn’t really a deaf community in her area, and she’d already had friends, so it had just been a matter of learning to connect with them again. The need to be able to communicate and not feel so isolated had been almost an obsession. She’d learned to read lips as quickly as possible when she was with Rick, and she’d become an expert at it from years of practice. ASL was easier, but other than Liam, her parents, and her best friend, Randi, nobody knew sign language. Becoming very, very good at lip reading had been her only option. And she was good at it, so good that some people didn’t even notice she was deaf if she was having a face-to-face conversation with them.

  Liam had told her that her speaking voice sounded almost identical to her pre-deafness voice. Her friends had claimed the same thing. But Tessa would never really know if they were pacifying her, or if what they said was the truth. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust them, but all of them had kind hearts, and what person who cared about her was going to tell a deaf woman that she talked strangely?

  Slowly, she’d lost touch with most of her old friends in the area, feeling different from all of her former friends. It hurt to be different, but she’d learned to live with the distance between herself and old friends; most of them were still acquaintances, and they were kind to her.

  Tessa startled as she felt the warmth of Micah’s large, strong hand cradling hers. Her eyes flew to his face.

  “I’ll help you, Tessa.” The look on his face was intense as he spoke. “You don’t have to do it alone.”

  “I can’t do it at all,” she mumbled, unable to pull her hand from his. That simple contact warmed her, and the need for human connection was gnawing at her soul.

  “Yes, you can. We danced, and you’re still just as graceful as you ever were. You can feel the rhythm of music somehow. You must.”

  Actually, she really didn’t hear whatever music was playing. She could sense vibrations. Once she understood the tempo, she matched a piece of music to that pace in her head. With Micah’s confident lead, she’d been easily able to waltz with him. That night, the evening of Hope’s ball last winter, had been a very memorable evening. She’d felt like Cinderella, and she’d never wanted to leave Micah’s arms. Unfortunately, the dance had ended, but Tessa still hadn’t forgotten the feel of his powerful body guiding her, immersing her in sensation.

  Slowly, she shook her head. “I don’t hear anything.”

  She explained how she was able to dance as Micah appeared to listen intently.

  His grip on her fingers tightened. “I think you could manage to skate a routine the same way you danced,” he told her, slipping his hand from hers to sign the words he was speaking.

  The action had been unnecessary. Tessa had understood him, and her heart immediately started to ache from the lack of contact. “I can’t,” she insisted, unwilling to open a part of her life that needed to stay closed and in the past.

  “Can’t or won’t?” he replied.

  Micah was irritatingly persistent, and Tessa was starting to find the entire conversation uncomfortable. She didn’t want to spill her guts to a guy she barely knew. Her lips started to curve into a smile as she considered the ironic fact that both of them knew what the other one looked like naked even though they’d exchanged very few words in the past. “Won’t,” she answered honestly.

  “Why?” He looked genuinely perplexed now.

  She could have answered his one-word question so many ways. The best answer was that she hadn’t even tried to skate in almost a decade. She could claim that she was out of shape, which was true. Or she could try one more time to explain that she couldn’t hear the music. Again, it wouldn’t be a dishonest answer. She said none of those things.

  “I’m scared,” she blurted out impulsively, telling him the real reason she’d never touched a pair of skates again. Her life in the last several years had been depressing, full of painful emotional blows and losses. Getting on ice again and failing might very well finish her off, destroy her.

  He shrugged. “I think that’s natural. But you were the best in the world. Doing a simple routine would be a piece of cake. The Fund doesn’t expect you to be perfect. All of the athletes invited to perform are past Olympians. They’re all way past the age where they’re in shape for competition.”

  Looking at him suspiciously, she asked, “I still haven’t figured out how your charity found me. Did you tell them where to find me?”

  “I didn’t know who you were until I read that letter. I swear. I knew they were planning the event, but I didn’t know you were involved.”

  “I’m not,” she answered hurriedly.

  “But you can be.” He lifted an eyebrow in challenge.

  Damn. Damn. Damn. There was nothing harder for her than to ignore a direct dare, and Micah was testing her. “It’s not feasible. I have jobs to do.”

  He shook his head. “Not a good-enough reason. You wouldn’t have to be in New York for more than a few days to perform, and you already admitted you aren’t needed as much at the restaurant. Your responsibilities can be covered by somebody else.”

  “I’d only have six weeks to prepare. I can’t get in shape in such a short amount of time, and I can’t relearn skills I’ve probably long forgotten.”

  “You didn’t forget; you’ve just buried the desire to get on skates again.”

  He was still spearing her with a knowing look, giving her the sense that he could almost look into her thoughts. Truth was, she did desperately want to skate again. It would be one less loss, one less gaping hole in her heart. When she’d given up the sport completely, it had left a very large void in her life.

  The thought of trying and falling on her ass made her cringe. “You really don’t understand,” she muttered. “You’re an athlete in prime condition. You have all of your senses. You’re not operating with a disadvantage. It’s easy to be courageous when you have nothing to fear.”

  “I understand that you’re afraid of failure, but you won’t fail. And you’re wrong. My life isn’t as perfect as you might think. I’ve had my ass in a desk chair for too long, and I’m not in great aerobic shape, but I’ll work out with you. We’ll do it together. I miss my runs.”

  Before she’d started up again a few weeks ago, Tessa had missed hers, too. She’d forgotten how much until she’d gotten outside every morning.

  “You never fail at anything. You can’t or you’d be dead.” She didn’t want to admit that some of the stunts he’d pulled off in the past fascinated and terrified her at the same time.

  He frowned. “You’re wrong again. I’ve failed at plenty of things. I’ve broken a lot of bones before I got it right sometimes, and now it seems I’ve lost my edge. My doctor ordered me out of my office.”

  “You’re sick?” She looked again at his weary expression, concerned.

  “No. According to my doctor I’m just . . . fatigued and burned out.” He gave her a look that said he detested having any weaknesses. “Personally, I think he’s full of shit, but I decided I could use a break. I can only be in an office for so long before I start going stir-crazy.”

  So he was hiding from the world, too. Tessa wanted to push him for more information, but his stony expression stopped her from asking any more questions. It was obvious that he didn’t want to talk about it, so she went back to the original subject.

  “There’s a problem with your earlier suggestion,” she told him confidently.

  “What?”r />
  “I can’t practice. The rink my father helped build is closed. It went out of business several years ago, after he sold out his financial interest in the arena.” Her dad had given up his share to his partners soon after she’d lost her hearing.

  Micah smirked. “No problem.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out his keys. “I’m not sure which one fits, but it seems I’m now the proud owner of one neglected skating rink.”

  Her heart starting pounding rapidly against the wall of her chest. The arena wasn’t far from where Randi’s house was located. Was it possible that he really did own the skating rink now, that he’d scooped up the closed building along with all of the property he’d recently acquired? It was highly probable, since the large acreage was for sale along with most of the other land outside the city limits in this direction.

  Damn!

  She looked at his attractive, grinning expression with alarm, and then stared at the keys he was now dangling between his large fingers.

  If he was for real, she was screwed.

  CHAPTER 3

  Several days later, Micah finally took time out to consider if he was actually doing the right thing by nearly pushing Tessa back onto the ice. His instinct, his gut, told him that Tessa needed and wanted to skate again. But as she got ready to go practice for the first time, he was questioning his tactics. He’d dared her, cajoled her, and downright antagonized her for the last few days, not wanting her to give up the chance to discover that her skills hadn’t gone away with her hearing.

  He felt like a first-rate jerk, which he probably was, but he didn’t want to actually admit it. He had basically continued to punch Tessa’s buttons, challenged her until her pride probably demanded that she skate.

  He collapsed on the couch with a protein drink in his hand, frowning as he thought about her confession that she hadn’t skated in years. What if he was fucking wrong, what if his gut instinct was wrong? It could happen—although it generally didn’t. He could have made all the wrong moves with her. Hell, he barely knew her.