Unmistaken Identity

by Marie Johnston

  His right eye twitched.

  “Oh my god. You didn’t believe I had a sick mom?” Mara blinked. She pulled her shoulders back and straightened. “And after we started dating? Has nothing I’ve done convinced you that I’m not a leech?”

  Like that, the hardness snapped back into his gaze and he cocked his head. “You mean when you were willing to sleep with me hours after we met?”

  “You were the same, only you were lying about who you were. Again, is it worse because I have boobs?”

  His livid gaze dropped to her chest. Right eye twitch. “What I witnessed, dating you, was a woman who whined about her store being shut down, but did nothing to secure work in the entire forty-five days I gave you.”

  “A month and a half to replace my sole revenue stream that took years to build?” She threw her hands up. “How generous of you, Wes. And as for going out and getting a job, do you know how much anxiety I have at the thought of being coerced by another person? I’ve been looking for women-led companies, but that doesn’t guarantee my supervisor won’t be a man. I couldn’t even partner with Chris on a new location.”

  Wes had a does not compute look to him.

  “Yes, Wes. A man offered to help me and I turned him down. And as for why you didn’t see me applying for jobs, it’s because you were trying to get into my bed every time we were together.”

  That snapped him into a defensive posture. “There were no arguments from you. And I have no doubt that you would’ve been digging into my wallet eventually.”

  With one hand on her hip, she pinched the bridge of her nose with the other. There was no getting through to him. Not after he’d dated the real her and still thought she was a shallow freeloader.

  “What was all this about?” She dropped her hand to look at him. “Why surprise me with a trip to New York and not reveal your lurid findings at my place?”

  His jaw worked and she wondered if he even knew the answer. “Because I had to come here for work and I wasn’t going to sit and let you plot while I was gone. You’re running out of time.”

  “I’m aware.”

  “Despite how even more men are willing to help you otherwise.”

  “More men? Are you talking about Ephraim? Then I guess you’re right. He offered and I took him up on it. No sex involved, FYI. The city council,” she wasn’t going to shine a light on Chris though Wes could probably guess who was behind it, “well, that’s a woman, and you pissed her off all on your own. In fact, Ephraim’s not so much helping me but going after a greedy, emotionless, conscienceless corporate tycoon who doesn’t give a damn about anyone without enough zeroes behind their name.”

  “None of it will work. I’m still putting you out of business and ripping down that piece of shit your store is in.”

  “I’m learning not to expect much more from you.”

  “Sit down and enjoy the rest of the flight, Mara. You’ll have to find your own way home.”

  Wha— A pit bloomed in her stomach. “You’re leaving me in a strange city in the middle of the night?”

  “I’m sure some guy will come along and be willing to rescue you. Seems to be your thing.”

  He had all the power and she was helpless, stuck thousands of feet in the air. Her eyes locked on the seat the farthest away from him and she staggered to it. Before she collapsed in it to cry silently to herself, she turned back.

  “By the way, my mom asked about you, wanted to know how you were doing.”

  Right eye twitch.

  On the bright side, they’d fought most of the flight and she didn’t have to wait long to land.

  She supposed Wes would want her to get off first. Ugh, she didn’t want to face him.

  Don’t let him break your heart.

  Sorry, Mom.

  The plane touched down while she clutched the armrests. They taxied for a few minutes before coming to a stop. She’d come up with a game plan through her haze. She had her debit card and license. How much would a ticket cost? As long as there were signs pointing her to a ticket counter, she’d find her way home.

  What if private jets landed in an entirely different area?

  No matter. She’d foot the bill for a ride.

  She unbuckled and clutched her purse. Wes walked down the aisle. His ominous presence warranted a long black cape billowing behind him to the beat of “The Imperial March.”

  One of the pilots appeared and Wes spoke a few words to him. Then the door opened with a burst of cold air and he disappeared.

  Not even a look back. And she’d hoped for what?

  For Wes to not be the heartless prick he’d been the last hour, to show her some of the guy who’d tucked her in and curled up behind her.

  Would it matter? He’d proved what he was capable of.

  She pushed up, but the pilot Wes had spoken to walked toward her.

  “Ms. Baranski, Mr. Robson made arrangements for us to return you home.”

  She stomped her relief down. “I appreciate it, but all I’d like are directions to where I can buy commercial plane tickets.”

  Confusion registered in the man’s expression, with a touch of worry. “I’m sorry?”

  “Mr. Robson has made it clear how he feels about me accepting anyone’s generosity. Thank you. I’m sure it’s been a long night for you as well.”

  “But Ms. Baranski—”

  “Excuse me.” She skirted around him but stalled on the first step. Lights from buildings and planes surrounded her and she could make out little in the dark.

  “Are you sure, ma’am?”

  “Positive.”

  He rattled off what she had to do to get to a ticket counter and she was on her way.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Wes relayed the story. Exhaustion weighed him down. The whirlwind and stress of business in New York, the flight delay back due to a storm, all piled onto sleepless nights.

  Flynn listened with ever-rising eyebrows.

  They sat in Canon’s office on a Friday night. Wes always kept his door shut, but tonight it guarded against the beat of the music that would add to his pounding headache.

  “She didn’t let you fly her back?”

  “Nope.” Wes recalled his pilot’s worried recounting of Mara’s refusal and the man’s resentment at being put in the situation of ditching a young woman in the middle of the night in an unfamiliar city. Guess Wes deserved it.

  “What if she’s telling the truth about everything?”

  “Are you on her side?” His friend’s hypothetical question was the same one that had been running through his mind all week.

  “Look at you, Wes. Bloodshot eyes, wrinkled clothes. If you thought she was a money whore, you’d be out on the floor, picking up your entertainment for tonight.”

  Wes stared at the floor. “She got to me, that’s all. She’s that good.”

  “Good enough to get her grandpa to leave her money,” Flynn said dryly.

  Wes flipped him off. “I wasn’t talking about that.” And Helen had warned him she didn’t have all the facts. “The professor, Sam, her employee, and her customers. She’s a user.”

  “Yeah, maybe.” Flynn’s tone wasn’t his usual confident one. “I don’t like seeing you like this. I’m worried about you, bro.”

  “Don’t be. I’ll get over it.” He refused to admit that he’d fallen for Mara, but his words came close.

  “I was going to tell you to get out there and get back in the saddle.” Flynn leaned forward and whispered, “Bachelorette party. But,” he returned to concerned friend, “I don’t want you to do something stupid like elope with a fling because you have a broken heart.”

  Wes made a psssht sound. “I don’t have a broken heart. I don’t like her.”

  “Mm-hmm. In case I didn’t mention a bachelorette party, there’s one out there now and it’s calling me. Nothing like the always-a-bridesmaid-never-a-bride hookup.” Flynn left, but Wes didn’t miss the holy shit, dude, you’re a sad sack and I’m worried about you glance. />
  Wes dove into his work. Pouring over shipment notices and orders, he was finally at a point where Mara wasn’t dominating his thoughts when his office phone rang.

  “Boss,” his bartender said, “there’s a hot chick here asking about you.”

  Wes was out of his office in seconds and weaving through the throng of people to the bar. What he saw when he approached slowed him to a halt.

  No Mara. Just Hailey in leggings and a low-slung top. With a frustrated grunt, he spun around and slammed himself back into his office.

  ***

  Mara sat in her half-empty office and dabbed her eyes. It was the last game day. Chris had brought donuts again. Ephraim and Joe had each brought food and they’d lined up a good-bye potluck that had taken them all the way to closing time.

  Choking on the overwhelming sense of loss, she’d escaped to her office.

  She hadn’t heard from Wes all week. Hadn’t expected to and had deleted his contact info from her phone.

  “Mara?” Chris called from the other side.

  “Come in.” Who cared if he saw her crying?

  He pushed open her door and his smile was understanding, and, dammit, she’d miss him.

  “I’ve been working on a proposal and looking for space. I…I emailed you a proposal if you’d seriously consider partnering with me.”

  “Oh god, Chris.” She scrubbed her eyes and cursed Wes for the eight-hundredth time in a week. If he hadn’t dragged her past through a mud pit, she might have actually considered Chris’s offer. “I’m really sorry. I don’t want to hold you back.”

  “I understand, but take a look and if things change, we’ll talk.”

  “I appreciate you not giving up on this place.”

  He shrugged and cut a hand through his shaggy hair. “A well-run comic store is hard to find. What you did with this place in less than three years is astounding. You have a good sense for business.”

  “I’d like to claim the success, but you and customers like Ephraim helped me a lot.” And Sam with his keen intellect and business experience.

  “No one ever does it by themselves. Don’t sell yourself short, Mara. You’re the one who led this operation and made the decisions.”

  “You don’t know how much I needed to hear that.” The complete opposite of the entire flight to New York.

  He looked regretfully toward the rest of the store. “I can’t believe next week is our last week. I guess I’ll see you Monday.”

  “I’ll walk out with you.”

  They wished each other a good weekend in the parking lot and she was on her way home for a long night of job hunting and filling out applications.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Wes stared at the empty lot. The Heart of Downtown Mall was closed.

  The steep satisfaction he’d expected forty-five days ago was absent.

  Mara hadn’t tried calling him. No pleas for forgiveness, no fuck you, nothing but radio silence. As if he’d expected anything else.

  The weekend had been so utterly boring and here it was Friday and he faced another.

  Because he must be a masochist, he’d watched the entire run of Star Wars. Flynn had even popped in for a few movies. He’d left, saying he could feel his butt flattening as each new movie started.

  His driver texted him, asking if he needed a ride. Poor guy. He was starting to worry about his job. Wes kept driving his hybrid around. One day, he’d tell Helen to sell it, but for now, he…just couldn’t.

  No point in staring at an empty building.

  He took the stairs down to the ground floor because if Helen could track her steps and never use the elevator, he wasn’t about to push a button.

  The building receptionist was just picking up her bag. She threw Wes her thousand-watt smile. “Got exciting plans for the weekend, Mr. Robson?”

  “Absolutely,” he lied. “Have all keys been turned in from the Heart of Downtown?”

  “Two of the three. Arcadia’s keys haven’t been turned in yet.”

  He inclined his head in acknowledgement and walked out into air as cold as his soul felt.

  ***

  Her store was officially closed. Arcadia was no more. Technically, Mara didn’t have to be out until Monday. But she had interviews arranged all next week, so she was determined to clear out during the weekend. And since her visits with her mom were on Sundays, she’d spent her Saturday moving.

  A week ago, the place had been hopping with people and laughter. Her lineup of gaming systems that hadn’t sold waited to be packed in the scattered boxes and hauled out. Between eBay and Craigslist, she planned to sell what hadn’t moved before the final shutdown yesterday.

  She went to push her bangs out of her eyes, but her hand fell to her side. How long to break the habit? Just before she’d come to the store, she’d had a hair appointment—no more pink, and a new sleek cut. She still had bangs, but they had been shortened and tapered into the rest of her hair, which fell to her shoulders. They’d cut a good three inches off but she could still do ponytails. Her plan was to finish hauling boxes home so that after her visit on Sunday she could look for professional clothing.

  After one load, she returned to the store and lifted more boxes and any small shelves she could fit into her car. She’d asked Chris to take as much of the furniture as possible; otherwise it’d have to stay and go down with the building. Or get sold and added to Wes’s massive fortune.

  So, it’d go down with the store.

  “Aw, man.” Her favorite Batman leggings had a tiny hole. Perfect symbolism. Everything she loved was being destroyed.

  Making a slow circle, she considered whether she should try to load more. Some of the items were just too large and too heavy. Chris had said he’d filled his garage. So what was left was likely going to stay.

  The front door chimed and a sense of alarm raced through her. She’d backed her car as close as possible to use the bigger door, but she should’ve locked it.

  She wheeled around and her heart stopped at the last gorgeous man on earth she wanted to see. “What are you doing here?”

  Wes’s gaze swept over her and settled on her forehead. “What the fuck happened to your hair?”

  It looked nice! She patted it to make sure no strands were out of place. “Pink doesn’t scream young professional and I need every advantage during my interviews. What are you doing here?”

  “You didn’t return the keys.”

  “I have until Monday. Forty-five days.”

  His brows drew down for a millisecond. Hadn’t thought of that, had he?

  He wandered around the store. Did he see the same desolation she did?

  She studied his outfit. A CEO’s version of business casual. His slacks draped perfectly to his expensive shoes, and his pristine shirt was unbuttoned at the neck. No tie and the sleeves were rolled up. No coat despite the dropping October temps, but then he didn’t have far to go to track down the keys.

  She spun to the counter that used to house action figures and advertisements for comic cons but was now empty and collecting dust. The keys rested on the top. She snatched them up, but when she turned, she plastered herself back against the counter.

  Wes stood a foot away. “Your leggings have a hole.”

  “That happens.” She hated the breathless quality to her voice. Hate was too strong of a term, but extreme disappointment and serious dislike were adequate.

  “You got home okay?”

  “Obviously.”

  His gaze caressed her face like he couldn’t get used to her grown-up look. “How much did tickets cost?”

  “More than I’d planned to spend. But thanks to Grandpa Kostopoulos, I covered it.”

  The blue of his eyes darkened a shade. “Why didn’t you just take the damn plane home?”

  She pushed off the counter and poked his rock-hard chest. “You know why.”

  He crowded her into the counter and placed his hands on either side. “It wasn’t a test. You should’ve let them fly you hom
e.”

  She refused to cower, which wasn’t hard when he smelled divine. Not cologne, she’d noticed he never fussed with the stuff, but whoever washed his clothes chose good detergent.

  And she knew what he looked like naked. Gloriously naked and aroused and geez, it wasn’t helping.

  His head dropped lower, but she wouldn’t retreat; her eyes were glued to his lips.

  “You didn’t fire the pilots or anything, did you?”

  “Why would I do that? I’m not unreasonable.”

  She raised an eyebrow and meant to look around the room, but he covered the distance between them and captured her mouth.

  Holy Batman, how was she going to resist him? She held him to her by his collar and he deepened the kiss. His taste was as good as imprinted on her brain.

  His hands gripped her waist and lifted her to the counter.

  No, she was going to end it. Flattening her hands against his chest, she meant to push him away, but his hands drifted up her shirt to cup her heavy breasts and they all but screamed at her to let him keep going.

  Their tongues clashed, movements growing more desperate. She couldn’t pull away so she poured her anger into their kiss. Without breaking contact, he reached down to shove her left shoe off and together they wrestled to get her leggings down. Only one leg was necessary without a shoe to block; she slid her leg free.

  Cool glass pressed against her ass. His tongue swirled against hers as his hand cupped her sex. His thumb found her clit and rubbed.

  Two and a half weeks of abstinence felt like two and a half years. She clawed at the clasp of his slacks. He didn’t release her to help, but held her close.

  Freeing his shaft, she tilted her pelvis. He released her sex to shove inside and immediately started thrusting.

  Her whine was needy and turned into a moan. Between his embrace and her legs wrapped around him, she was pressed against him so tight, she marveled he could move his hips.

  Her climax rushed closer. She opened her mouth to pant. He did the same. Their lips were touching, but they were breathing into each other, using each other for support.