Taken Identity

by Raven McAllan

She could see he carefully considered what to say before he replied. Surely, it wasn’t that hard a question?

  “Answers, I suppose,” he replied slowly. “Mum’s jewelry, of course, but really… I want to know why? Why go like that? Why marry me in the first place? Because the more I think about it, the more I think our meeting was contrived. Engineered for a reason.”

  “The reason being to marry you?”

  “Well, be with me, at any rate.” He shrugged. “Why? No idea. I’m reasonably wealthy, I admit, and I have a good lifestyle. Nevertheless, I work long hours, I can go all over the world at a moment’s notice, without a companion, and make no excuse for doing so. And I make no bones about it, ask anyone who knows me. With hindsight, maybe not what she was looking for, after all.”

  “I think perhaps that’s just what she did want,” Jules said thoughtfully. “Someone who wasn’t there all that often wouldn’t delve too deeply into her persona, her life. She would be able to keep a low profile then, as you wouldn’t be taking her out and about too much. The only downer is that you said you thought she left because you didn’t give her a life of holidays. Did she actually say that?”

  She watched him carefully, trying to gauge his reaction and getting absolutely nowhere. He gave nothing away until he spoke.

  “You know, you could be on to something. No, she didn’t say that. I just assumed it.”

  “So, what did she say then? Do you still have the letter she sent?”

  He shook his head.

  “Why on earth not? No, don’t tell me. I can guess—stupid macho pride. God, you men, sometimes…” She let her voice trail off. “Honestly what are you like?”

  “However,” Gray said stiffly, “I do remember it almost word for word. It is not something one can easily forget. Your wife telling you thanks for everything, but I’m not staying for any more.”

  He stood up and began to pace back and forth in front of her. Gah, he’s making me dizzy. It’s worse than watching a tennis match.

  “She just said it was time for her to go, had taken the money from the joint account to keep her solvent until she got settled, and didn’t want anything else.”

  He walked from one end of the room to the other. “She took her clothes—that was fair enough—her wedding ring and engagement ring. Strange, though, she left all the rest of her jewelry. Probably didn’t think it was worth much. Well, she was wrong because the earrings that matched her rings would have made her a pretty penny if she had sold them, never mind the rest.” He began his circuit of the room again.

  “You’re making me giddy with all that pacing. Sit down, for God’s sake, Gray. This room isn’t big enough to pace. Crack your fingers or bite your nails or something. Or, if you really need to use up surplus energy—no, we are not using it up that way, clean your thoughts—the windows need washing!”

  His laugh came across as spontaneous. So did his muttered, “Think of tripe.”

  “Pardon? What’s tripe got to do with it? I thought you said you hated it.” She’d deliberately not said anything about the offal, and didn’t think he’d use the thought to subdue his arousal. “You shuddered when I teased you about tripe for dinner.”

  “Exactly.” Gray looked complacent. “The thought of it makes me shudder. Go all cold. The best erection deflator there is. So, if I start getting all hot and hard thinking of what we are going to do, I think of tripe. Perfect.” He sat down again, looking pleased with himself.

  “Mmm, right, I’ll, er, remember that if I see you rising without occasion then, shall I?” Jules didn’t think she would tell him she’d thought exactly the same thing herself.

  Gray grinned. “Or, of course, you could always deflate me in a much more pleasurable manner. I’m easy.”

  “Too much information and I think we’ve had this conversation before,” Jules said hastily. “So, let’s move on. Did she mention the jewelry in her letter?”

  “No, but then if you were taking something that wasn’t yours, you wouldn’t, would you? You’d hope it wouldn’t be noticed or connected to you. But how the hell you could think that, I have no idea.”

  “Maybe she didn’t take it?” Jules proffered.

  “Of course, yes. Why didn’t I think of that? Someone else just happened to have access to the safe and took it at the time she left,” Gray said caustically. “This is real life, Jules, not a novel.”

  Oh, Mr. Sarcastic!

  She wasn’t fazed. “And real life is sometimes stranger than fiction, Gray, as we’re finding out with all this stuff that’s happening. I didn’t say it was likely, just that it could have happened. She didn’t take her jewelry, so why take yours? Doesn’t make sense.”

  “Fair enough. I’ll accept that it’s unlikely but could have happened. Another reason to trace her.” Gray stretched his arms over his head, all his muscles coming into play.

  Jules gulped. Her self-imposed ‘No Gray’ was getting harder and harder to stick to, especially when she knew what she really wanted to stick to was him, not her principles. Whoever said principles make a cold bedfellow was spot on. She rather thought it was decision time. It was hard to believe she’d known Gray for less than forty-eight hours. However, she reasoned, if she added up the actual time they had spent together, it was a lot more than she had spent in total in some relationships. A spurious argument, but one she thought she would be using to convince herself they just had to get together and discover what was happening between them. Well, she knew what was happening with her. She fancied the pants off him, and really needed to see if A—it was reciprocated, and B—lived up to what she remembered.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “Sorry?” She saw Gray’s quizzical look and flushed. “Oh, not much. More wine?”

  She stood, lifted the bottle out of the cooler and gestured in the direction of his empty water glass.

  This was it then, crunch time. If he said yes and drank a glass, he couldn’t drive home. If he said no—

  His look was considered. Jules felt her muscles tense. It was all up to him now. Surely, he knew what she suggested. Even though she had been vocal in her no-sex edicts, the effect he was increasingly having on her—and it seemed her on him—somewhat negated that.

  Jules had never really understood the phrase ‘a pregnant silence’, until she stood, bottle in hand, looking down at him, sitting relaxed in front of her. Her breasts at his eye level seemingly had no effect on his libido.

  As if in slow motion, he shook his head. “No, thanks, no more wine.”

  What? She couldn’t believe her ears. After all the doublespeak, the sexual innuendos, the awareness and, yes, his bloody, great hard-ons, he wasn’t going to take what was on offer? Bastard! Bloody, bloody…

  “Sorry?”

  “I said, I don’t want any more wine, but wouldn’t mind a glass of that rather good whisky you gave me yesterday.” His voice was patient, amused even. His smile showed her he knew exactly what she had asked and what he was agreeing to. “Just a drop though, a mere sniff and taste. I never play after alcohol.”

  Help. Jules now felt nervous. What if he was disappointed? What if she was disappointed? This time it was really them, not two strangers who passed—or should that be connected—in the night. How awful if they found reality didn’t live up to that dream-time meeting? Even if he didn’t know it was the same woman.

  Oh hell, life was so complicated sometimes.

  Her thoughts whirred as she took his empty glass and exchanged it for a tumbler in which she poured the merest drop of malt. Shit, when did I last wax my legs? What state is my bikini line—and the rest—in? Did she have time to check? To do anything necessary? At least she had changed the sheets that morning. In hope, maybe, that despite all her protests to the contrary, something would happen.

  Hell, did she have any condoms? She may be on the pill, but there was no chance of anything happening without that extra protection. Sensible women protected themselves from more than just pregnancy. Jules might be
head over heels in lust, but she had enough common sense left to remember all the lectures given to them at school about STIs.

  “Are you going to join me?”

  “What?”

  He indicated his glass. “With a malt?”

  “Oh, er, no, I think I’d better stick to water. I don’t like mixing my drinks.” One sip and in the mood I’m in, I’ll be flat on my back for all the wrong reasons.

  “Wise girl.” He took a sip of his drink. “Would you like me to open another bottle?” He paused. “Of water?”

  Oh, God, surely she hadn’t said about being on her back aloud, had she? However, it seemed not, as Gray was just looking at her with a query in his eyes, not amusement.

  “It’s a screw, um, cap, but I’d love another glass. There’s a bottle in the fridge. I’ll be back in a sec.” Jules left the room hurriedly, without stopping to gauge his reaction to her helpless mutterings. She dashed to the loo and splashed cold water on her face before looking in the bathroom cabinet. Spare toothpaste, brush and razor. Headache tablets, no little foil wrapped parcels. Bugger. Where else? Duh, Jules, be logical. You are not likely to want condoms in here, no room to swing a cat, let alone…well, don’t go there yet. Be logical. En-suite, bedside table, hell, even kitchen drawer. Come on, woman, move, look and pray.

  She did all three.

  She was rewarded in the en-suite and bedroom. Whew, at least I don’t have to explain why I’m rummaging through the kitchen drawers like a maniac. I wonder if I have enough? How many was enough, anyway? She didn’t think they would use all she found, but a girl could live in hope, couldn’t she? She took a quick glance at her legs and bikini line. They would do, she decided, due to the circumstances. Time to get back downstairs before Gray thought she’d left the country.

  He didn’t seem unduly perturbed by her prolonged absence. He had pulled the curtain shut against the evening sky and turned just one light on. Setting the scene? she wondered. He had no need to.

  He turned as she closed the door behind her and held up his glass. Not the whisky tumbler but one full of water once more. “Yours is on the table. Cheers.”

  Jules lifted her glass and touched it to his. “Thanks, cheers.” She managed not to wonder out loud why they were toasting each other in water. He’d only said he never played after alcohol, not that they were going to play.

  For some reason, she felt awkward, shy even. For goodness sake, Jules, she admonished herself. Get a grip. You haven’t agreed to anything, and he hasn’t asked. He might even be thinking about a taxi! A brief glance downwards disabused her of that straight away—unless he got excited about the thought of those square, black cars.

  “I may have an erection that’s uncomfortable and demanding attention and wants the attention to come from you, but I promise you, unless you want it to, nothing will happen, and I’ll make sure I have those off-putting thoughts I told you about. I like to think I am a gentleman and a Dom, and as such I keep my word. You turn me on with a look, Jules, but I’m not a randy teenager who can’t keep his body in check.” He laughed. “I’m a randy thirty-something, who can damn well have a good try! Not sure how well I’m succeeding at the moment, though.”

  “Just what are you thinking about to get in that state, Gray?” Jules had not realized how provocative she sounded until she had spoken. She was going to have to think before she opened her mouth. She deserved it if he thought she was a tease.

  His voice, however, was mild, full of promise.

  “You, Jules, just you. Without that dress, lovely though it is. Naked. Under me while I explore every delicious inch of you—with my eyes, my hands, my mouth. With all my body. Over me, whilst you return the favors. With you tied up, blindfolded, ready for me. Me, inside you, feeling you tight around me, feeling you come for me as I come for you.” He paused. “That’s for starters.”

  Calmly, he took another sip of water, although the hand that held the glass shook. Jules hoped it was with passion and not anger.

  Gray looked at his hand. “See what you do to me? Make me shake with anticipation. Something very alien to my nature. Or so I had supposed. I would always have said I was cool and collected. Contained. I’m a Dom, always in control. Note I didn’t say in charge. You, pet, as my sub, always have the last word. I’d have described myself as someone who approached things logically, slowly and after careful consideration. Not at all impulsive. It took me six months before I suggested Julia move in with me.

  “You, I hadn’t known more than a few hours, and I wanted to make love with you. Not just have sex, make love, play with you. Think about long time association. Know you submit to me, and I’m there to look after you. Shit, I have had more erections in the last two days than I think I have had in the last two years. Bloody painful they are, as well. And damn difficult to do anything about because… Anyway, just so you know. The only reason I am as I am, is you. Just you, and only you. So, over to you.” He spread out his hands in supplication. “Oh, for goodness’ sake, sit down. I’m not going to jump you.”

  Jules sat. “I didn’t think you were,” she said, sounding composed, although her pulse was jumping. “I was only going to say I feel the same.”

  Gray grinned.

  “Well I’m not exactly sure about the Dom/sub bit yet,” Jules added hastily. She needed to make him understand all the different things going through her mind. That wouldn’t be easy because she didn’t understand them all herself yet. “I’m a bit hazy on the dynamics. But, hypothetically, I’m interested and intrigued. And it’s totally alien to me, as well. I’m very careful with relationships, take a while to get into them.”

  Well, apart from one memorable occasion I do not want to think about at this moment.

  “And, I was also going to say, that if I haven’t heard from Carole soon, I’ll try Aunty Meg.”

  “Will she know anything?” Gray asked as, putting his glass down, he drew Jules closer.

  Jules felt his body brush hers. She knew it was only the rush your body gets when it meets a new, potential mate. But, oh my God, this man seriously affects me. I never believed in wet pantie syndrome before. I do now. She wriggled in her damp knickers as she struggled to remember his question.

  “Oh, er, well…only where Carole might be, but at least we’ll know if we’re likely to hear from her.” The tinny ringtone of her phone made her stop talking and grin. “Talk of the devil, I hope.” Reluctantly, she moved away from Gray to reach for it and with an inward sense of completion, moved straight back again as she answered the call.

  She nodded to Gray as he raised an eyebrow, to question who the caller was.

  “Carole,” she mouthed, whilst listening intently. If only she hadn’t dropped her phone and smashed the loudspeaker bit. Up until then it hadn’t mattered.

  “Yes, but what’s his last name?” she asked when finally she could get a word in. “Do you know what he’s up to now? Really? Now, that is very interesting. Anything else? Mmm, please, that would be great. No! I do not want to take him up on his offer, horrible little creep, but I might need to make him think I do. Yes, hold on. Okay, shoot.” She grabbed a pencil and scribbled a number down on the edge of that day’s newspaper. “Thanks, C. Speak later.”

  “No, you bloody well will not,” Gray exploded. “Not a chance.”

  “What? Speak to Carole? Don’t be stupid. Of course I will.”

  Gray’s expression was thunderous. Light dawned.

  “Oh, you mean take Awful Ade up on his offer. Of course not. Like I said to Carole, just maybe let him think I will.”

  “Not even that, Jules. Promise me. Please, we’ll do things another way if we have to, but not that way. Promise?”

  Jules sighed in relief. The last thing she wanted to do was give Adrian any idea she might be willing to get up front and personal with him. The thought made her shudder. Rubber lips and octopus arms were so not her thing.

  “I promise,” she said. “Gladly. Anyway, Carole has told me something very interest
ing. Are you ready for this? Awful Adrian is actually called Raymond Adrian Archer. He has a new girlfriend, and she has red hair. Carole doesn’t know her name, only just glimpsed her, and says he is being very close-mouthed about her—which is not his usual style, not at all. But, wait for it, guess where he lives?”

  Gray was obviously ahead of her. “Glasgow.”

  “Correct. So, now I do agree with going somewhere else for info.” Jules smiled a very satisfied smile. “Because, I have an address for him now. But not tonight,” she said hastily. “It would be too late when we got there.”

  “Oh, definitely,” Gray agreed gravely. “Besides, we’ve been drinking. We’d both be over the limit.”

  She hardly thought less than half a glass of wine would qualify as being over the limit for anything, but she kept her mouth shut. The way she felt—all giddy and hot—you could get drunk on water.

  “Not a good idea,” Gray said. “Tomorrow, do you think? Are you free?”

  “Oh, yes, I’ll be free. Well, unless events tonight carry on into tomorrow.”

  His smile, she thought, was perfect.

  “Oh, Jules, I’m sure they will. Nevertheless, we’ll still find time to make that visit. Because once we find out what’s going on, hopefully, our, er…events can carry on for as long as we want them to.”

  She’d hoped he’d say something like that. Nice one.

  “Now.” Gray put his glass of water down and relieved her of hers. He tugged, and as she was not expecting it, she slipped sideways across his lap, her head resting on his rock hard cock.

  “Ouch.” Jules wriggled to get comfortable.

  Gray groaned in apparent agony.

  “That,” he said in a rasp, “will finish everything before it starts. For the love of God, or our soon to be sex life… Do. Not. Move. Please.”

  She stilled immediately and he lifted her gently and arranged her in another position.

  “Better,” he said. “For the moment, much better. I need to feel you close to me, but I don’t want to spoil everything by, well, overreacting, shall we say? We have all night, so let’s make the most of it. I hope I’m not being presumptuous here. You do want me to stay the night?”