Taken Identity (6 page)

The look on his face was priceless. She wished she could capture it and sell it. She’d make millions.

“You didn’t?”

“Well, not David Beckham, sadly. As for the pool table? You’ll have to wait and see.”

“Give me a diary,” he said fervently. “I need pointers.”

He doesn’t,
she thought.
He really doesn’t
.

“Backwards,” Jules decided. “You work through them from when you met her. If anything stands out or seems weird—and pool tables do
not
come under the heading of weird—make a note of it. I’ll start from my book being published and go forward. How does that sound?”

“Long. But yes, I guess it’s all we can do.”

Well, not all,
she thought.
I can think of several other things we could do. But
they won’t help us read these diaries.
As Gray laughed, the tone deep and sexy, she wondered if he had read her mind. But no, he had just read an entry in her most recent diary. Written the day before.

“‘A drop-dead gorgeous, play-your-cards-right-and-you-can-have-me man appeared on my doorstep. I thought all my birthdays had come at once, before I realized he was a real up-his-own-ass type asshole’,” he read her words aloud. “‘Pity, because I could do with a really good—’”

“Enough!” Jules’ cheeks burned and were no doubt scarlet. “Shit, shit, shit! I forgot I’d written yesterday. But why the hell have you got it? You should be reading three years ago.” Mortified, she realized she’d picked up her current diary when she took all the others from her bag. “Think I’ll have that back, please.”

“Hold on.” Gray kept his right hand firmly on the diary, holding it in place while he wrote something under her entry, then handed it back.

“Thank you so much. Oh.” She read what he’d written and her cheeks grew even hotter.
Any time, but I think I’ll make you beg for it. On your knees.

“Oh, um, yes, er.”

“Yes?” He stared at her so hard that she wondered if she had a spot on her nose.

“Just shut up, Gray.”

His eyes narrowed and it reminded her of something her best friend Jenny had once said. “A man who narrows his eyes is always in charge.” At the time she hadn’t pushed Jen to explain herself, as Jen had gone red and hastily changed the subject. That was before Jules’ one and only foray into the world of BDSM. It had been an eye opener and made her realize what she was. A sub. Or was it only to that person?

As she’d never repeated the process, she had no idea.

But Jen’s husband Rick, and Gray, did both have that certain aura of control around them, and after reading some of the books she’d enjoyed, Jules rather thought they both fitted the descriptions of a Dom and dominance perfectly.

“Please. I’m hot and bothered enough, and do not even say it. Yeah, I know, you could make me even hotter… Oh, bugger it. I’ve done it again. My feet are in my mouth as much as yours are. In your mouth, I mean, not mine and… Fu— Stop this right now.”

Gray lay half out of his chair and laughed so hard tears streamed down his face.

“Who said what?” He rolled his eyes and a second later Jules was in the same state.

“Oh, God,” she said, when she could speak coherently. “I needed that. No more, though. No innuendos, no double speak. Nothing. We need to work.” She grabbed a notepad and pencil.

“Jules.”

She looked up from the note she’d been scribbling.

“You’re left-handed, like me.”

She stared at him. It was nothing to get excited about. A lot of people were. There was none of the stigma attached to it these days like there had been years ago. She wasn’t considered a witch, just corrie-fisted, as they called it in Scotland.

“So? According to a teacher of mine, the brainiest people are left-handed. I believed him until I realized he was left-handed as well, but hey, I can live in hope,” she said.

“Yes, but
you’re left-handed
.”

“We’ve just agreed on that, Gray.” Why was he getting so excited about it? Did he think it meant she was double-jointed or something, as well?

He was having trouble formulating his words. Jules waited impatiently.

“She wasn’t. Julia wasn’t.”

Chapter Three

“Well, that’s one way of telling us apart then.” Jules looked at him as he stared at the pen she held loosely in her left hand.
My God,
she thought,
he’s about as easy for me to read as Sanskrit.
Those deep, dark eyes were unfathomable. His face, gray beneath its tan, was rigid and expressionless. Only his hands, the knuckles showing whitely, displayed any signs of emotion.

“I’d hate to play against you in chess or cards,” Jules said. At his questioning look, she continued. “The phrase
poker face
fits you to perfection. You give no one any idea what you’re thinking.”

“Sorry, force of habit. A good boardroom tactic.” He smiled, and everything changed. His face lit up.

Bottle it and sell it,
she thought.
Instant arousal for anyone
looking.
She could feel her body tingling in response to his unwitting invitation.
Down, girl, sex is not on the table. Oh, for heaven’s sake, do not think of sex and table or down. No, not down—not on him or my knees. Oh hell. Cold showers.
She admonished herself and almost groaned aloud.
No! Not sex and showers. Definitely not Gray, sex and showers. Get your mind and body away from the amorous and into the mundane. Shit, I hope he can’t read what I’m thinking. I know I’ve not got a poker face.

If he had, the only recognition was a slight tightening of his body, and movements in his chair as if his immaculate trousers, instead of obviously being handmade for him, were a size too small. Hooray for upper-crust correctness.

“Pity it wasn’t the other way around, though.”

“Huh?” Jules had no idea what he was talking about. Surely he wasn’t arguing with her over her sex and a shower scenario or polite behavior. She was certain it had only been thoughts, not words.

“Left hand, right hand. If she’d been left-handed and you right, people would perhaps have noticed more.”

He was still talking about her dominant hand.

Argh, now she was thinking Dominant again.
Wash your mind out, Jules, and concentrate on the matter in hand. Enough.

“Not necessarily,” Jules argued, relieved to have something other than hot, hard sex on her mind. “After all, if you find someone who knows her, they’ll know if she was left or right-handed. Anyway, even if we do find someone who knew her, I can’t really see how that’s going to help us, unless they know where she is now.”

Gray nodded. “I’ll buy that, but what else do we do? If Sean can’t find her—and he’s supposed to be among the best in his business—do I spend the rest of my life in limbo? Married, but not really, to someone who isn’t who she says she is? Because I can tell you, it’s a damned shit place to be—not a husband, but married. No idea what the hell is going on. No idea why she left so suddenly. It wasn’t as if we had a row or anything. Granted, she had been somewhat distant, but she’d never been over demonstrative, so there was no reason to think anything was amiss. It was all normal. But unless my jewelry is returned, that’s going to be where I am.”

What an awful description of a boring marriage,
Jules thought—undemonstrative and distant. She shuddered. So
not
how she saw Gray at all.

“Um, was she happy with…?” She waved her hand in the air, uncertain to voice her exact thoughts. “You know…stuff?”

His eyes narrowed. “And just what do you mean by that? No, don’t wriggle and look away, pet. Explain yourself.”

Pet? Oh…
“Well, I sort of got the idea you’re very much—” She hesitated then took the plunge. “A Dom?”

There was silence and Jules’ stomach sank to her toes. Had she read him all wrong? Was she deep in the mire now?”

“Would it bother you?” he asked finally, just as she was ready to run out and hide in the loo. “Be honest.”

“Nooo. Not the Dom bit. The ‘what you might expect me to do’ does, but only because all I know is second hand and from books.”

Liar, liar pants on fire.

“Well at the moment, I’ve no right to expect anything, and I’ll be doing nothing. Later? Well, that would be for us to decide. Now let’s change the subject. That is all too painful when it’s a no go area for now. As for Julia, let’s say she suffered it. No, not suffered—did as little as possible and wasn’t interested. She went through the motions. That is even more emasculating than an outright no. Right, so, all I think we can do, between the three of us, is try to trace all movements by anyone with your name, eliminate the ones you made and concentrate on the others and keep our fingers crossed something comes from it.”

Jules considered his suggestions—all of them—and his profile. Her thighs were damp and her nipples and clit were so sore she wanted to rub them. She might be tempted except he looked, she thought, almost haunted. Another thought struck her and that one was considerably more upsetting.

“Sean said he’d been told Julia was pregnant. I’m not, so whoever told him that must know her and not me. Can’t he track her down through that person?”

Gray shook his head. “Anonymous letter, not even by email. Before you ask, postmarked Glasgow. Another reason to assume you were her.”

“Blast. Another alleyway blocked. Oh, and please don’t get all uppity when I ask this, but if she is pregnant—who’s the father?”

Surprising her, Gray laughed. “Another million-pound question. Not me, anyway. Unless triple strength latex isn’t effective. And you can’t be pregnant for over a year.”

“All’s possible, I suppose, but why the over a year pregnant bit? Or is that too much information? You told me it was eighteen months.”

“Because, I, er, saw her a year ago, in Italy.” His laugh mocked himself. “I try to block that out, it wasn’t my finest hour. And, well, oh, hell, do I need to spell it out? We were at a party, a very dark and mysterious, masked ball. Still, I was certain I recognized her and sure enough, my host introduced her as Julia Frayne. I started to ask about the jewels and she said later and, shit, I’d had wine and a long flight, and thought ‘okay, why not’. To my shame, I thought she might be easier to question later, after, well… Ah bugger, I sound a right prick now. We had sex—oh, Christ, not at the party, at my hotel. I’m not that depraved. She disappeared before I had the chance to ask her what the fuck she had been playing at. I was jet-lagged and fell asleep after the most mind-blowing sex I had ever experienced in my life. I had no idea she was capable of responding as she did. She responded as the most perfect sub any Dom could ever ask for. I haven’t seen or heard from her since. So an elephant pregnancy or nothing to do with me.”

“And she knew you were, er…you? You told her your name?” She held her breath. This could get very, very awkward. Did she look as stunned as she felt? Evidently not, as he shook his head before continuing.

“No, my host just called me Fox. My nickname at school. But even masked, I can’t believe she didn’t know it was me. Apart from which, even
I
drew the line at keeping the bloody things on while we made love. Although, come to think of it, she did make me keep the light off. Said it was better in the moonlight. Hell, I shouldn’t be telling you all this. Sufficient to say, that was the last time I saw her.”

He looked uncomfortable discussing what had happened.
Pfft
, she thought.
Not nearly half as uncomfortable as I am
.

“Er, whereabouts in Italy?” she queried, although she was fairly sure she knew the answer.

She did.

Oops
. Shit. Hell. Shit and bugger.
And any other words suitable were the only things that sprang to mind. Even masked—or only lit by moonlight—should she be offended that she was so forgettable? Jules conveniently didn’t remind herself that, at that time, her hair had been a good six inches longer and due to the sun, several shades lighter, and he had sported hair that had curled over his collar and a good three-day’s growth of designer stubble. Her breasts had held on to the rash to prove it for several days, and her ass had hurt to sit on for even longer. Instead, she chose to interpret it as just another example of men thinking with their gonads.

“
Ah
, well, okay,” she said lamely. She wasn’t even going anywhere near that. “So, not yours, but someone’s though, unless we have an immaculate conception. Did the note say how pregnant she was?”

He shook his head.

Jules mulled over the latest revelations. “This is what I think we do, then. I’ll make a spreadsheet. Set out everywhere I’ve been during the years from when I was published, to when you met Julia.”
Luckily,
she thought, relieved,
no need to go
later
than that.
“And put down where I was. If Sean comes up with anything, we might be able to narrow down if and when our paths crossed. Yes?”

“Sounds good to me. But lunch first?”

In response, Jules’ tummy growled. She laughed. “Seems like the best idea all day.”

* * * *

Lunch turned out to be a long assault on the senses in a setting made for seduction. Gray seemed totally unfazed by the intimate little room they were shown to. A table on its own sat at an angle to the sumptuously draped window. Even though it was summer, a crackling fire flamed in the hearth. They sat side by side on an enclosed settee, the high sides and canopied roof shielding them from anyone who happened to make their way through the shrubs surrounding the tiny, outside courtyard. The food was set out in front of them, the champagne on ice. Moreover, the waiter’s parting words were, “Please ring when you want something. Otherwise, enjoy.”
All designed
, Jules thought,
with sex and seduction in mind.
As a consequence, along with recent revelations, she couldn’t get sex and seduction out of her mind. She wondered how Gray felt. Talk about clams—or even a duck’s bum. His thoughts, it seemed, were tightly guarded.

So now it was time to pry open those thoughts.