Taken Identity Page 7

  “Fine.” Jules swiftly logged off her laptop and closed it down. Swiveling to pick up her bag from the floor caused her skirt to ride up her long legs, and her blouse to tighten around her breasts. She shoveled all her diaries into her bag and stood up. “I’m ready.”

  “So am I,” he said.

  Oh, yes, she could see that and realized just how ready he was. Just a pity he couldn’t show her. Although, she didn’t need to look far to discover for herself a rough idea—fitted trousers were not the best thing for hiding an erection, especially not one with the strength of his.

  Jules found her eyes drifting downwards. She had to recheck. Being Jules, she just had to comment. “Wow, aren’t you just? Is all that for me?”

  “Well, there’s no one else here who can arouse me like you seem to. Without trying.”

  She cocked her head to one side. “Do not put thoughts into my head, Gray. Or I will try. Hard.”

  Gray stared at her, surveyed her. His eyes were bright, and she shivered. As he looked at her breasts, she felt her nipples tighten beneath the thin material of her top and knew he could see this evidence as easily as she felt it.

  “By all means, try,” he said cordially, in invitation. “But beware the consequences. Try as hard as you like. Make me hard. Christ, make me come, if you want. Because, I want. To come, hard, with you, in you, on you—your choice, Jules. How and when. But know this. You try anything, and I’ll try back, and succeed. I don’t give up my Dominance unless I choose to. On this occasion I don’t think that’s at all likely.”

  Chapter Four

  Judging by the look on his face, he was waiting for a smart comeback. For the life of her, she didn’t have one. There was nothing she could think of to say. Instead, she walked to the door. “Shall we?”

  Gray pondered. “Oh, we shall. Never fear. But for now, let’s head to your home.”

  Jules choked on a splutter.

  “Do you know, Jules, although this sexually charged repartee is enjoyable, the hard-on I have to suffer—and suffer is the word—bloody well is not. I hope you’re feeling as horny and frustrated as I am. I want nothing more than to strip you, hold you down and fuck the living daylights out of you. Then tan your arse until it’s as red as your hair. So now you know.” His voice was hoarse.

  “Ah. Okay. Um. Oh, good. Thank you, I think.”

  “Take it from me, once I sort this whole sodding mess out, find out about my is-she-or-isn’t-she wife—who I hasten to add is responsible for all the negatives in my life at the moment—I won’t let you from under me for a week.” He stopped, and she watched, fascinated as a wolfish grin spread over his face. “Except to put you over me, in me, around me…” He shrugged. “Until that time comes, until I sort this unrepeatable bleep of a woman out, I guess I will be worshiping at the shrine of Pam and her five sisters. That is a journey I’ve rarely undertaken these last few years.”

  Jules looked at him blankly before bursting out laughing. “Pam and her…? Oh my God, what an expression. I love it.”

  Gray’s face was almost the color of her hair. “Trust me when I say I don’t. Having to use her, I mean. Hell, it’s not something I’ve had the need or desire for since I was a scrubby schoolboy. Not until you came on the scene.”

  Typical man, blame her for—well, Jules, she thought, actually, it is a compliment. What she was going to do about it, she wasn’t sure yet. Yes, she might fancy the pants off him, but there was way too much baggage being carried about to even contemplate what she was contemplating. Wasn’t there?

  As he followed her to the door, holding it open to allow her to precede him, Jules felt his eyes fixed steadily on her rear.

  “Stop ogling,” she snapped. Grief, had her moods ever been so mercurial before?

  “Careful, pet.” His voice was level, but his determination rang out loud and clear. “You’ve had a lot of leeway, and if you want us to go back to being virtual strangers with no electricity and tension between us, now’s the time to say so. Otherwise, I’ll ogle if I so choose. It gives me something positive, something good to look at and think about. It is a perfect rear view and perfect front view, as well, if I’m honest.”

  Shit, talk about embarrassment.

  “Yes, sorry, Sir.” Where on earth had that come from?

  “Not yet, pet, but soon, I hope.” He must have guessed she was self-conscious about her slip, because he changed the subject with aplomb.

  “What about dinner? Shall we eat now, or can we call for something later?”

  She laughed aloud at that. “Typical townie statement that, Gray. Who d’you think will deliver to us out in the sticks? There’s no conveniently situated take-away. However, if you’re happy with home cooking, there’s no problem.”

  Gray stared at her, looking as if he could hardly believe his ears.

  “Replay what you said. Home…cooking. Oh, yeah, sadly, I did mishear. You said cooking. Cooking. With a C.”

  Huh? Oh, that was it. She was going to have to go to meditation or hypnosis or something to learn how to control this awful blush. The raised eyebrow, the quirk of his lips, his pointed look down his body to a very, “Hey, look, I’m here. Don’t forget me,” part of his anatomy, made her giggle. He was not such a stuffed shirt after all.

  “Anyway,” he continued. “If you are sure you don’t mind, I’d love some home cooking. I eat just about everything.”

  “Tripe and onions?”

  “Er, almost anything, Jules. Don’t think that covers tripe.”

  She was aware of how he held himself rigid, presumably to stop the involuntary shudder that had started, and she noticed his erection had completely subsided. Now she knew what she had to do if he became too aroused. Mention tripe.

  Jules wholeheartedly agreed with him as she said, “Thank goodness. I hate the stuff.” She laughed as they crossed the tarmac to his car. “I was thinking if we nip to the supermarket on our way, I can do seafood pasta.”

  “Much better. Can we stop at a bottle shop?”

  “Offey, beer off, supermarket, you’re back in Britain now. No need to buy wine. I think I can find something to do the food justice.”

  * * * *

  The something was a superb, South African Chenin Blanc. Smooth, fruity and citrusy with a hint of summer, which, as he sipped it, she saw the dawning realization of just how good it was show on his face.

  It really was incredibly moreish. Gray agreed and told her so as she set the table in front of the sliding doors, which opened into the garden. They were shut.

  “You don’t need to shut the doors because I was so disparaging about the Scottish summer,” he remarked. He was soon disabused of that notion.

  “Bollocks. I’m shutting them for self-preservation. Although I’m glad you like the wine. It’s a particular favorite of mine. I picked for them last year. Great fun, but hard on the back. And the windows? Look outside. See that sort of dark haze?” She pointed and he nodded. “Midges. The scourge of Scotland, especially this side of the country. From the end of June until September, once the sun goes down, they come out and we come in—or get bitten to hell. So we stay out all day, have our barbecues early on and enjoy a dram or two inside. Or in our case, a glass of wine or two.”

  She wondered if he noticed she hadn’t mentioned his car parked securely outside. Neither had he.

  “Well, all I can say is never mind the midges, enjoy the wine.” Gray lifted his glass in her direction. “And the company. Both excellent.” She noticed he didn’t put it to his lips.

  Why?

  Jules cheeks grew warm.

  “Well, thank you, kind sir,” she said. “The food will be ready in five. Is that okay?”

  At his nod, she gestured to the diary on his lap. “Did you remember to ring Sean?”

  “Left him a message. He’ll pick it up.”

  So, all they had to do now was kill time. Not an expression she liked, and she wasn’t even going to think of the ways she would really like to do that. Talk
, Jules. Get your mind away from his body.

  “Find anything in the diary?” Boring. Surely she could come up with something better than that? She groaned inwardly. Come and up should not be mentioned in the same thought.

  “You had a particularly hideous dress as a bridesmaid to your cousin Carole.” Gray was flicking pages as he spoke. “And you were chatted up by an obnoxious bloke called Adrian, who had wandering hands, wouldn’t take no for an answer and insisted you were really called Elizabeth.”

  Much better. Keep on talking about things like that.

  “God, yes, I remember him. He was a friend of Carole’s husband Bill. I threatened to use my bread knife to chop his fingers off. He insisted he knew me and that my name was Elizabeth. Kept calling me Lizzie, and asking why I’d just cut my…” She faltered and went on slowly. “Why I’d cut my hair. But at that time, my hair had been short for well over a year, and he wouldn’t believe me. This is the longest it’s been for ages. He said I’d had it long the last time he’d seen me, a few months before. But he couldn’t have. Gray?”

  She was shaking. “I bloody hate myself now. I’m like a screwed up kid, shaking and shivering and a mega wuss. It’s crap.”

  Gray stood up and put his arms around her. Held her close.

  “It’s all right, Jules. You’re fine. Shh.” He rocked her like a baby as she clung to him. “That’s good. It’s a real clue. You and your diaries are the business. Come on. You’re strong, and this is something positive. Let’s eat to celebrate. Here, have some wine.”

  He put his glass to her lips as she smiled precariously.

  “Feel honored. This is my glass of wine you’re drinking,” he said.

  As he wasn’t drinking it, Jules let a bare drop touch her lips. She could think of more than one reason not to drink, and if he was staying, well, might they be playing? If so, she’d need a clear head. No responsible Dom would play when alcohol had been taken in any amount—or so she thought. She made a mental note to reread some of her hotter books to check.

  He smiled at the chuckle she gave—soft, but definitely a chuckle. The more Jules thought about her cousin’s wedding, the more she remembered. A warm, sun-blessed day, Carole and Bill so in love, marrying in the grounds of the castle, eating outside under bowers of roses. So romantic. An unromantic rumble of her stomach reminded her of the pasta.

  “Dinner.” She gasped and reluctantly moved back out of Gray’s embrace. “It’s all ready. Let me bring it in, and we can eat and talk at the same time. Well, I can, it’s—”

  “A girl thing,” he finished for her.

  “Correct. We girls know how to multitask. And as I get grouchy when I’m hungry, being able to eat and talk is one of my most important attributes. You sit down, I’ll bring in the food. No,” she forestalled him. “I don’t need any help. It’s only a couple of dishes and plates. And the kitchen is too small for the two of us.”

  Too many chances for touching.

  They ate sitting opposite each other, watching the motes of dust glitter in the sunlight as the shadows lengthened and the garden became lost to sight. Gray seemed fascinated as Jules ate slowly, savoring each mouthful, and his look never wavered. It was as if he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She couldn’t help but notice.

  “What? What are you looking at? Do I have sauce on my chin or something?”

  He shook his head. “If you make love in the same sensual way you eat, then I am going to be a very lucky man. Very lucky, indeed.”

  Jules wondered if she had heard correctly. Eating sensually? She just ate. He was definitely on another planet. Spearing another prawn and enjoying its taste and texture, she snuck a glance at his face. He was still watching her, seemed mesmerized by her actions. By the way he held his body, also somewhat affected by them.

  “Gray, I’m just enjoying my food. It’s what I do. I like food. I like eating. End of.”

  He shook his head. “No, Jules, that’s what you think you do. In reality, you love your food. You make love to it the way you’re going to make love to me. Count on it.”

  He might think so, but make love to him the way she ate a prawn? Delusional. Then she remembered how he looked at her as she ate, how he devoured her with his eyes. How she could see his body reacting to her. Realized she had been noting his signs of arousal and reciprocating with ones of her own.

  “I think we’d better find your errant wife quickly then, Gray. Because I don’t want to be the one to give her cause to sue for adultery.”

  “Thanks to you and your insatiable need to record the minutiae of life, we’ve a much better chance now.” Gray laid down his cutlery. “That was delicious, Jules. Both eating mine and watching you eat yours.”

  “All my pleasure,” Jules said, trying to keep her tone level and not show how his words affected her. She lifted the plates into the kitchen and returned with cheese, biscuits, fruit and a cafetière. “Help yourself. I’m going to make a phone call to Carole and Bill. See if I can get the awful Adrian’s address or phone number.”

  Gray poured coffee into two mugs and nodded his agreement. Jules could feel his gaze on her as she found the number she needed and dialed. The call was answered within seconds. The metallic voice wasn’t unexpected. Her cousin led a full life and was rarely available to answer a call.

  “Carole, hi, it’s Jules. Need to pick your brains. Do either of you know where Awful Adrian is? The arsehole that insisted I was really someone called Lizzie at your wedding? I need to find him, to find out why and how he thought that was my name. As soon as possible. Ta, hon.” She clicked her phone off.

  “Answerphone,” she explained briefly. “Knowing those two, they could be anywhere. Still, it was her mobile and even on holiday, she usually checks her calls on occasion. Knowing Carole and Bill though, they could be in the middle of nowhere with no signal. I’ll try her mum later on, when it’s a better time.”

  Gray looked baffled.

  “Aunt Meg lives in the Caribbean and won’t be at home at this time of the day. I’ll try about her teatime. So, what now?”

  “Now?” He smiled and raised an eyebrow. “That’s a leading question, pet.”

  “Gray Reynard. No. Raise your mind above waist level.” As his eyes traveled to her breasts, she blushed. “And higher still. Nothing, nada, zilch, regarding anything like that is going to happen.”

  “Yet?”

  “Definitely yet, and maybe never if we don’t get this sorted. There is no way I can even think about making love with you while your wife is me.”

  Gray shook his head. “Pity. What about a nice little spanking session?”

  “Noooo, stop it now.”

  “Can we just practice a bit, then? One or two spanks? A fondle and grope?”

  “No. Stop it.” Jules was laughing, but inside, knew she was close to crying. The first man who could get her from passive to aroused in ten seconds flat, and she felt she had to keep him at arm’s length. Unfortunately, with every look, innuendo or touch, her resolve rapidly weakened. Would it be adultery? When his wife had left him? Or was she trying to justify what she was convinced would happen in a matter of time?

  “Well, I’m going to practice thought transference then,” Gray said, seeming serious. “So you know what I’m thinking.”

  “You don’t need to. I know already. And the answer is still no, not yet, not even a little bit.” She paused. “But I will say I hope we sort this out soon, as well. For the very same reasons as you.”

  “Thank God for that.” His response was heartfelt.

  A discrete buzzing had him reaching into his pocket and pulling out his mobile.

  “Sean,” he said tersely before speaking into it. “Hello, yes. What have you found?”

  Jules watched emotions flit across his face whilst he listened to the voice on the other end.

  “Thank you. Let me put Jules on to give you a little more information we seem to have.” He passed her his mobile.

  She could feel him watching her a
nd staring at her mouth as she formed her words. It didn’t disconcert her, rather the opposite, but it didn’t help her concentrate on what was being said to her. After Sean had asked her three times what she had found out, she deliberately turned her back on Gray and listened to the chuckle that told her he knew why she did so.

  “So,” said Sean when she had finished, “when do you think you will hear from your cousin?”

  “Absolutely no idea. If she’s at work, later on tonight. If she’s on holiday, God only knows. I’ll know better when I get hold of Aunt Meg this evening. And all I know about Awf—I mean, this Adrian bloke, was that he’d been at uni with Bill and worked in the city.”

  “That’s a start. D’you know what uni and when?”

  Jules groaned. “Hell, Sean, why don’t you ask me a hard one?” Her voice dripped sarcasm. “Well, Carole and Bill were at Keele, but Bill went to Durham afterwards to do his Masters, and I don’t know which one Adrian was at. As for dates? You have me there. I think Bill finished his Masters the year they married, but apart from that, your guess is as good as mine. I’ve an idea he did something to do with politics, Bill, that is…not Adrian, not a scooby what he did. Arse around, I should think, but strangely, given the behavior of some of our politicians, I’ve never heard of a degree in that. Is that any help?”

  “Yeah, could be.” Sean gave a laconic response. “Nearly home and dry—well, in finding this guy’s past whereabouts, anyway. Tell Gray I’ll get back to him as soon as.”

  Jules relayed the message. “So, do we carry on looking? Or finish the wine?”

  “Ditch the wine and go on to water.” He didn’t say why, and Jules decided not to ask. She didn’t want to be disappointed if he gave her the answer she didn’t hanker after.

  A little later, as she swirled her water glass between her fingers as they sat side by side on the settee, listening to a very old James Taylor track, Jules asked Gray idly, “What happens if we do find her—Julia, Elizabeth or whoever? I know you want the jewelry, but what else?”