Unmistaken Identity

by Marie Johnston

  Wes’s head spun. Unresolved sale. Sam had been planning to give it away. For a dollar. “That’s absurd.”

  He’d been in danger of softening toward Mara and now she was suing him? Not seeing her for four days messed with his mind, like he was in withdrawal from her addictive taste. Her body rocked him only because of the deceptive game he was playing. Franklin’s news had reminded him of that, and tonight’s movie date with her took on new meaning.

  Franklin adjusted his glasses, a tic often preceding bad news. “It is absurd. However, it might give a judge pause.”

  “But it’s missing his signature.” Incredulous, Wes stormed back to the window. Nothing had changed at Arcadia. “How the fuck is she paying for this? She lives in a hovel.”

  Franklin cleared his throat. “You’ve seen her place?”

  If he told Franklin what he was doing, would the guy stay with him? Would he notify Mara? He couldn’t tell Franklin. Despite his loyalty, something about his assistant’s dismay unsettled him.

  Why? His mom would fist-bump Wes. Then she’d interfere and ruin it. She’d become Mara’s worst nightmare. It’d be like high school on ’roids. Name calling. Shunning, though who Mara had in her inner circle to shun her, Wes didn’t know. Plus, that’d be the end of enjoying Mara’s company—no. Her body. He was enjoying the sex, that was all.

  Why should he care again? If he wanted the ultimate revenge, he’d spill to his mom that Mara might play him for his money. Mara was already making a move to finish what she’d started with Sam with her silly lawsuit.

  Wes schooled his expression to one of professional calm before he spun around. “I learned everything I could about the new woman after Sam’s money.”

  “It wasn’t like that.”

  “How do you know?” Wes held his breath, as if he waited for a damn good reason, one that would shine a clean light on Mara.

  His assistant hesitated a moment. “I don’t, but I knew Sam. He wasn’t romantically involved with anyone after his first heart attack.”

  Hopes crashed and Wes cursed himself. He curled his lip toward Franklin. “Did you hang out, chat about your hookups?”

  Franklin’s lips pursed. He shuffled the reports, arranged them neatly, and stuffed them into his briefcase. “I’ll find out everything I can about their claim and whether it’ll affect our timeline further.”

  Somehow Franklin brought out the worst in him, like he was Sam’s conscience lingering on earth.

  “What was it?” Wes’s voice dropped low, not quite in apology. “What was it about her that captivated him?”

  Standing and holding his bag, Franklin seemed to correctly read into Wes’s question. “I wish I had an answer for you. I do know that when she leased the space for Arcadia, he was delighted.” His head inclined toward the monstrosity sitting in a corner of the office. “Perhaps it was just nostalgia. Have a good day, sir.”

  Left alone, Wes faced the pinball machine that had shown up after he’d shut down his dad’s offices. Likely Franklin’s doing.

  For two seconds, Wes saw himself as a little kid with mussed black hair repeatedly slamming the flippers and earning replay after replay. Bright blue eyes reflecting off the glass that covered an image of a DeLorean, a teenager, and a guy with wild gray hair. The game had been released the same year Wes had been born. He was surprised he wasn’t named Marty instead.

  Had the game even been played since the divorce? Wes had been in and out of Sam’s workplace, but after the way Sam had withdrawn from his role as father, Wes had concentrated on learning the business.

  Stupid machine. He needed to get rid of it. Give it away, like his dad had tried giving all his other property away.

  Speaking of giving property away, he palmed his phone from his pocket and punched in a number.

  His executive assistant, Helen, answered, anticipating his question. “I’m a mile away. The car is a hybrid, but not top of the line. I made sure to keep the cost under fifty grand and not too flashy.”

  “Well done.”

  Going back to his window, he shoved his hands into his pockets. A few minutes later, Helen pulled into his reserved spot with a black, blah vehicle. Nothing about it screamed class or money and it was exactly what he’d need on his date. If he showed up with his Audi, he might not get the honest answers he wanted from Mara. Like how close her and her good friend Sam had been.

  He should be disgusted, not only at the thought of Mara and his dad, but at the forty-year age difference between the two. But Sam was gone and Mara was almost like Wes’s last connection to the man—the man, not the corporate tycoon.

  His phone buzzed. Withdrawing it, he saw a text from Helen, giving him details on the movie he planned to take Mara to.

  A lawsuit. That greedy woman.

  The conundrum it created in his mind aggravated him. Was there someone in her life driving her to rob an old man and continue trying even after his heart had failed him? The Mara he’d taken to bed, with the sick mom and the tiny house, wasn’t the avaricious Arcadia owner who’d latched onto Sam.

  Even Wes’s mom had withdrawn her claws from Sam’s empire after the funeral. Because Wes had gotten everything and now she played the part of doting mother, one she sucked at.

  A tap on his door yanked his attention away.

  “Come in.” He knew it was Helen. She was the only one with free access to his building and didn’t need to be buzzed up.

  The older woman breezed in, her cheeks flush with excitement. A car woman, he’d known to call her when he needed a normal car for his date. If he was inclined, he’d feel sorry for the car salesman. Helen drove a hard bargain and was tenacious as fuck.

  Just to hear the story, he made sure to ask. “You got a good deal, I presume.”

  He didn’t care. The cost of the car was pocket change.

  She chortled and flopped down in the chair Franklin had vacated. “The guy tried to talk to me like I was a little old lady.” Helen pinned him with an amused stare and patted her bun. “It’s the reason I don’t color my hair. Gray hair equals underestimation and I can eat ’em alive.”

  It wasn’t just the gray hair, but also the extra pounds she carried and the matronly way she dressed. Helen’s love of sweets often invaded his office and people stupidly assumed a few extra pounds meant a few less IQ points. She’d been jobless when she’d applied for her current position, having stayed home with her kids until they’d left for college. No CEO would hire her with her lack of experience, age, and “frumpy” appearance.

  Idiots. Helen’s no-nonsense attitude and razor-sharp intellect were obvious and a refreshing change from the interviewees who’d eyed him like hungry tigers, planning ways they could use Wes to move up in the business world.

  She pulled out her laptop. “Franklin asked if I could go over what’s going on with your plans in New York with you.”

  Wes chose the seat next to Helen. If Franklin had passed off the project to Helen…it was serious enough to take his mind off Mara.

  Chapter Eight

  Mara’s house came into view and she frowned.

  Was that Sam’s car sitting in front?

  Dammit, she knew she was running late, but combined with him being early, she groaned. Tonight was supposed to be fun and relaxing. Instead, he was waiting and she looked a hot mess.

  Pulling behind him, she paused as he unfolded his long frame from his vehicle.

  Fading evening sun glinted off his glossy hair and cast shadows over his hard features. After what they’d done together, she shouldn’t get nervous, but the predatory intensity of his gaze set her butterflies on fire. They burned up into ash and Mara gulped.

  He was walking to meet her but the flow of his movements was more like he was stalking her.

  Managing to gather her stuff before he opened her door, she smiled up at him. More fluttering in her belly. His expression said he planned to chew her up, spit her out, and gobble her back down.

  She grasped his outstretched hand and
he pulled her out.

  “Sorry I’m running late.” She’d been locking the door when Ephraim had called. Her new lawyer.

  He cocked an arrogant eyebrow and crowded her close to her car. “You’re not late,” he murmured before dropping his head.

  Her lips parted and met his. She was not in making-out condition. Frazzled, stressed, and dusty from a day of unpacking and relabeling inventory for clearance.

  Sam must not mind. His tongue coaxed hers out and if he carried it any further, she’d drop her purse and tote and climb him like she was King Kong and he was the Empire State Building.

  She flattened her hand on his chest and pushed herself back. His gaze sharpened, dipped down to her lips.

  How badly did she want to see that movie?

  If this thing between them had a chance, hiding for sex marathons wasn’t going to allow it to grow.

  And she really wanted something between them. Not because he was a fifteen out of ten on the hotness scale. Because she felt comfortable around him. None of her quirks gave him pause, he’d been helpful while her mom was sick, and she felt sexually free with him like she hadn’t felt in years, or ever.

  She hadn’t realized how important that was. It was a sign that her past didn’t rule her.

  She mentally sighed. Must also mean she should start filling out applications.

  He was still staring at her, waiting for her to make a move.

  “I need to get changed.”

  Stepping back, he held up the hand he still clutched and twirled her. She released a giggle.

  “Look good to me.” He spun her back into him.

  Faded jeans and a Suicide Squad tee sounded like a little black dress in his voice.

  “I want fresh clothes. I worked hard for the money today.”

  “All right.” He released her hand and draped an arm around her shoulder as he steered her to her door. “Got any more of those leggings?”

  The grin that grew from her lifted the whole week of stress. “Pick your DC superhero.”

  He grimaced. “I’ve got bad news, Mara Jade. I was always more of a Marvel guy and I’ve already seen you in Iron Man.”

  She gasped dramatically and elbowed him playfully. “I don’t know if this thing between us will work.” Letting them into her place, she dropped her things by the door. “Lucky for you, I run a place where I have to be a well-rounded fangirl. I’ll be right back.”

  No looking back as she trotted to her room; she’d never leave her house. She swung her bedroom door shut behind her and unsnapped her pants.

  The door didn’t latch and she glanced back. Sam towered in her doorway, his expression even more severe than earlier. Her breath hitched.

  “Go ahead.” His guttural tone liquefied her. “Drop your pants.”

  “The movie?” It was all she could think of saying.

  “We have forty-five minutes. Drop your pants and crawl back on the bed.” He reached for his wallet and withdrew a square packet.

  Sucking in her lower lip, more with excitement than trepidation, she shucked her jeans off, taking her panties at the same time. Doing as he ordered, she scooted back onto her mattress.

  He freed himself from his black jeans, doing nothing more than lifting his polo out of the way, unsnapping his pants, and shoving them and his underwear under his shaft.

  The condom was rolled on within seconds and he pushed her legs apart. She fell back.

  He slid a finger through her crease. “You’re wet for me.”

  No answer; her voice didn’t work. His cock replaced his finger and he shoved inside. She cried out as he groaned and dropped his head.

  “Been too long,” he said between gritted teeth.

  He took full control, backed out and thrust again, harder. Her hands flew to his shoulders, splaying against the soft fabric covering hard muscle.

  His pace increased until he pounded her. Circling her clit with his thumb, his hips pistoned until she gasped with the rising climax. He went faster. The seams of his jeans cut into her thighs, his shirt tickling her abdomen.

  Her hands twisted into his polo, her back arching upon her surrender.

  A snarl of emotion left him as he growled out his orgasm, grinding together with hers.

  Raw sex. Fast and hard. She’d never experienced anything like it, but with Sam, she’d had a lot of firsts.

  Pulling out, he stepped back and headed for the door without looking back. “Now, I’ll wait where you told me to.”

  The door was pulled closed behind him and she was left with a delicious ache in her body but a thread of confusion blooming in her heart.

  ***

  Wes braced his hands on Mara’s bathroom counter. He’d stripped off the condom and locked his dick back up where it belonged. His heart raced, had been since his skin had touched Mara while helping her out of her car.

  Two minutes and he couldn’t keep himself away from her. Who could blame him? Her T-shirt was a solid size too small. Did customers notice how it molded around her breasts? As good as a marquis. The way her hips rolled as she walked to her bedroom. He’d been half hard in anticipation of Mara’s body all day, but the reality of her was too much for his sex drive.

  His plan wasn’t going to work if he fell under her spell. Soon, he’d be signing over building after building to her just to keep her in his bed.

  Shooting himself a disgusted look in the mirror, he exited the bathroom and shut the door so he didn’t have to listen to the constant drip of the sink. Reclining against her front door, he waited.

  Her house was seriously cramped. How was she affording a team of lawyers? Didn’t she have her mom’s hospital bills? They’d texted all week and her mom had gone back to the nursing home Monday. What about that bill?

  He’d have Franklin look into how much a month at Golden Meadows cost. In fact, he’d have Franklin—no. Helen. She would comb through Mara’s history with ruthless precision as soon as he said the word. Helen was more territorial of Wes than his own mother. Maybe it was job security for his executive assistant, but he didn’t often question it.

  Having someone give a shit about him personally was refreshing.

  Was that why Mara crawled under his skin, sent blood screaming toward his cock with her smile and fresh scent?

  She blew out of the bedroom, her sex-flushed cheeks sending another flow of blood to his privates.

  “What’s that scent you wear?” he blurted. God, maybe he should go home until he had his thinking straight. Ending his day with the PR mess in New York didn’t help.

  “Just washed?” she drawled.

  “You don’t wear perfume?”

  She chuckled. “It’s called dollar-store fabric softener.” Her smile faded when she caught his expression. “Are you okay?”

  “Bad day at work.”

  “Ah. I get it.”

  After he settled her into his new car, he climbed in. She was looking around the interior. “Geez, this thing is immaculate. And it still has that new car smell.”

  “I’ve had it for a while.” He may have fudged and put his other car’s plates on this one to make it look that way. He didn’t want to explain a new car and didn’t want her to reveal her greedy side so soon. Well, he did, that was the whole point of dating her, but maybe after the movie. It’d been a long time since he’d done something as normal as go to a movie. Here’s to hoping he didn’t get pulled over for anything. “How’s closing your place going?”

  He drove to the theater and let Mara go on about learning to shut down a business.

  “The best part of the week was when one of my loyal customers offered to represent me pro bono on the incomplete contract my friend Sam left behind.”

  He had to mentally scream at himself to not stomp on the brake. Pro bono? She’d conned one of her customers enough to represent her for free?

  What had she done for him to manage that?

  He almost snarled.

  “Sam, are you sure you’re okay?”

 
He forced a smile. “Sorry, my attitude’s stuck at work, but not my attention. Keep going.”

  The little crinkle in her forehead was too cute for words. He redoubled his efforts to remain emotionally distant. She’d bamboozled his dad and her customers, and he hadn’t figured out what she wanted out of him.

  “I had to put up notice that my store’s closing in five weeks, barely over a month. They were upset, understandably so. I mean, we’re like a small family. Chris offered to contact an old friend on the city commission.”

  A proprietary swell rose. “Who’s Chris?”

  “My full-time employee. My only employee, really. He left his career for something more mellow. Best thing that ever happened to my store. Anyway, Ephraim overheard—he’s a customer—and they started talking. I turned him down at first. I don’t think there’s a chance, but…” She shrugged and flashed him a mischievous smile. “There’s nothing wrong with being a pain in Wesley Robson’s ass.”

  Wes ground his molars together. PITA, all right. His lawyers would fall over laughing at the thought of pro bono work.

  “That’s a stroke of luck,” he said instead.

  Her smile faded. “I’ve been really fortunate to be surrounded by decent people these last few years.”

  And before that? She could be attempting to tug at his heart strings, to build his curiosity in her. Working on the fragile-woman-needing-protection angle.

  To be honest, he had a hard time seeing a fragile woman who needed to be cared for. Mara was ambitious and independent.

  She didn’t elaborate on her past. This would’ve been the perfect time to dive into a sob story, but she remained mum.

  He could still get his own information out of her. “What’s their plan?”

  She waved her hand. “I don’t know all the legal wording. Mostly Sam’s intention to sell the place to me was actually a transaction involving Robson Industries. It wasn’t finalized, but there may be some loopholes because it was the company, or at least a way to delay the stupidity. I don’t know. I keep thinking I could talk some sense into Sam’s son and this might give me time, or bring him out of the mysterious meetings he’s always in when I call.”