Taken Identity (8 page)

Not. The. Time. Stop it.

Jules pointed to what she had found.

Dropped my bloody bag all over the foyer of the hotel because I’d brushed my contact lens out by accident. A very helpful man gave me a hand to pick everything up and even asked for the bag to be lodged behind the reception desk whilst he helped me on a lens hunt. We eventually found it by a chair leg, but without him, I’d have given up much sooner. Thank you, man.

“I remember that now,” Jules said slowly. “It was windy, and my hair had blown into my eye. While I was pushing it out of my face, someone nudged me, and I dislodged the lens—I wore hard ones then, not the soft dailies I use now, so I couldn’t lose it. I dropped my bag. It was a bit like the one I have with me today, so stuff went everywhere. My passport was in the bag and fell out. I saw the man pick it up, and thought no more of it, but it was a good twenty minutes before I rescued the bag from the receptionist.”

“Plenty of time,” Gray said. “Was the passport in the bag when you retrieved it?”

“Yes, but I seem to remember I thought how crumpled it had got, from just being on the floor.”

Gray considered and looked at the screen again. “Hotel Apollonia. Where, exactly?”

“Sicily. Oh, bugger, Gray. Sicily. She wasn’t Italian, was she?” A variety of scenarios flash through Jules’ mind. None of them good.

“No, she wasn’t, and don’t get your knickers in a twist.”

His words sounded so incongruous for one who usually spoke so correctly.

They made her laugh and lightened the atmosphere. Exactly what she supposed he had intended.

“She’s as English as you or I.”

“Oh, well, that’s fine then—not. Because I’m not English. I’m Scottish,” she retorted, and Gray groaned.

“All I need, a rabid nationalist. Sorry,” he said in a placating tone. “British, then.”

That made her smile. “If you have to generalize, much better. We Scots are a wee bit touchy about being called English. Just like you English don’t like being called French, or Irish, or—”

“Okay, okay, point taken. I won’t make that mistake again.” He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Julia was English. Estuary English, I think you would call it, but cleverly educated out most of the time. Elocution. Taught how to speak the Queen’s English. Nevertheless, it slipped occasionally. And she was a wicked mimic, but no, before you ask, definitely not Italian. So get all those horse head in the bed scenarios out of your head. No Mafioso, Dons, Godfathers or whatever in the picture. At least, I don’t think so.” He was studying her diary again, a frown on his face.

She groaned inwardly. What had she written that he was reading now?

“Um, Jules? Why, if you were in Sicily, do you say the plane from Heraklion to Glasgow was two hours late leaving? Isn’t Heraklion in Crete?”

She knew she must have turned the color of the dark red roses on the side table.

“
What?
” She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Show me that.”

She snatched the book from his hands. “Oh hell. Hotel Apollonia. Not Hotel Appalonia. Not Sicily. Crete. I was in Crete. Same year, different holiday. Lost my lens in Crete. What
was
I thinking? Crete, Gray. Crete, Crete. Crete.”

How mortifying to make a mistake like that, especially in front of a man who’d captured her interest. Where was the proverbial hole in the floor to sink into when you needed it?

“Hey, easy mistake,” he said in a soothing voice. “Calm down. It’s not a big deal.”

“Okay. I know you’re right. It’s just… I’m ashamed I don’t remember what happened where, okay? It makes me feel old.”

“Hey, I’m sorry, but really, it’s fine. And before you ask, no, Julia wasn’t Greek, either. All right?”

Jules nodded.

“So,” Gray continued. “That could have given anyone time to get all the gumph needed to apply for another passport. I’ll give Sean a ring and see if it helps. Let me just jot down timings.” Taking a piece of A4 paper from her pile with a glance at her, she presumed, to ask her permission, he made a few notes then took out his mobile phone. He was watching her as, once the phone was answered, he spoke quickly into it. Jules tried to make sense of a conversation she only heard one side of. And that was the side she knew. Eventually, he clicked off and turned to her.

“You did say you weren’t busy at the moment, didn’t you?”

She nodded.

“Good, well, I’ll run you home so you can pack your case, then.” He seemed as if he was waiting for her query, and he wasn’t going to be disappointed.

“Why?”

“Why do you think? To go to Crete. I’ll just ring Anton, my PA, and get him to make us flight and hotel reservations. Then, we’ll get your stuff, head to London for mine and fly out as soon as we can.”

“What good will that do? It was years ago. Who is going to remember such a trivial incident as that?” Jules argued. “Anyway, it might not have been then.”

“True,” Gray agreed. “However, it might have been, and someone somewhere may have some information for us.”

“I think it’s a screwy idea.” She could see he was far from convinced by her admittedly weak argument.

“Are you scared?”

His tone, she felt, was patronizing. She did stare at him then, as if she thought it was he who was screwy. “Scared? What of? I’ve been back since then, more than once.”

“
What?
” His voice was loud and astonished. “Why on earth didn’t you say so?”

“Oh, yeah, right.” Sarcasm dripped from every syllable. “When would you like me to have fitted that bit of information in? While you were on the phone? Giving me or Sean orders? Shouting loud enough for the people in the next village to hear? Get real, Gray. Suck it up and realize there’s more than just you affected by all this crap.”

Her disgust was obvious, and she didn’t care. Outside, someone was whistling
Flower of Scotland
. At least there weren’t bagpipes as well, or she would scream.

“I know I said I wasn’t busy, Gray, but that doesn’t mean I sit on my backside all day drinking coffee and eating biscuits. I do have commitments, have a life here. I can’t just shoot off to Crete for however long it takes without some warning. You know, cancel the papers and get someone to feed the cat, everyday things like that.”

It was obvious Gray was baffled and couldn’t understand why on earth she was being so snippy.

“You don’t have a cat,” he said in a falsely patient tone that set her teeth on edge. “Papers?” he went on, oblivious of the steam metaphorically coming out of her ears. “Ring up and cancel them, easy.”

Jules could tell that as far as he was concerned, there was no problem.

“Why are you staring at me as if I have two heads? Truly, Jules, you have me baffled.” He shook his head slowly as she glared at him. “What? What have I said now, Jules?”

“You really do not get it, do you?” Perhaps, if she gritted her teeth, she wouldn’t scream at him like a fishwife.

Funny, she had never realized you could talk through gritted teeth until that moment. She knew she was managing admirably.

“Obviously not,” he replied stiffly. “As far as I can see, there is nothing to
get
. It is a simple progression. We cancel your papers, pack, fly, ask questions, hope we get answers and then continue from there.”

Jules shook her head. “Then all I can say, is I am truly sorry for you, Gray, if your life is so empty you can do things like that.” She hoped the look on her face showed she was sincere in her regret. “However, I, on the other hand, cannot just take up and go. I have commitments, promises I’ve made and a family who would be incredibly distressed if I went abroad without giving them details of my travel plans. Oh, bloody hell,” she finished explosively. “You’ve even got me talking like a stuffed shirt now. What
is
it with you?”

Whoever said discretion was the better part of valor was correct. Jules decided that at one time, Gray had listened to that person and followed their advice. She reckoned he had also judged that now was not the time to answer what he probably hoped was a rhetorical question. He stayed silent, just watching. What on earth was going through his mind? She couldn’t even begin to imagine. She knew she had an expressive face, and as her thoughts crossed her mind and were discarded, she couldn’t help but show them. He, however, was the epitome of stone-faced—like a statue, or someone who had an excess of Botox. Or, she admitted with a hysterical giggle, Dom-like.

“Okay, I admit what you said was true. I don’t have anyone else to think about. Well, I do have a mum of course, who I Skype every week and email or text most days. But I can do that from anywhere. So could you. Mum’s in Sydney with Ralph, her other half, and reckons I’m big enough and ugly enough to take care of myself. They’re doing a world tour before, as mum says, her pins wear out or she pops her clogs. So as long as I have access to phones and the ’net, I can do all that is necessary regarding my business.” He smiled mockingly. “Do you know, I had never considered my life empty. Now, you’ve got me wondering.”

It seemed like several minutes, but was probably no more than one, before Jules could clear her voice of emotion and speak calmly again. It sounded a sad and empty life to her. She couldn’t imagine not having people concerned about her and close by.

In all that time, he just stared at her, his face still blank. She wondered what it would take to get him to lose the mask.

“If I truly thought going to Crete was the answer, Gray, I would go. Once I had made appropriate arrangements regarding family and so on.” She held her hand up in the universal ‘stop’ gesture as he opened his mouth. “Hold on. I haven’t finished. Then I would go. But don’t you think you’re rushing at things here? The first thing we’ve picked up on, and you’re on it like a…well, rat and terrier. As I would have told you, given the chance, I’ve been back to the same hotel twice since then.” She ignored the hiss of breath that escaped from between his pursed lips.

“The first time I returned, the manager recognized me, remembered what had happened and apologized for
not
having apologized about my crumpled passport sooner. He said he had trodden on it. Now, that may or may not be true, but you can’t just go rushing in and asking all sorts of wild questions about a something and nothing incident that happened five years ago. Apart from that, when I went back last year, he wasn’t there, and I didn’t recognize any of the staff. He’d moved on, and before you ask, I don’t know to where.”

Gray absorbed her comments. Sighed. “Okay, I overreacted, and I’m sorry. You’re right.”

”I usually am.”

“Ditch the smug look. I’m in no mood for it.”

Jules curbed the instinct to stick her tongue out. What next? She soon found out.

“Well, Miss Know-It-All. What do you suggest now?”

“Cut the sarcasm, Gray. It doesn’t suit you,” Jules replied with equanimity, her anger gone and her good humor restored. Funny how seeing someone else discomforted made you feel better.

“Well, bugger me,” he said, sarcasm uppermost. “There I was, thinking I did sarcasm well.”

“Well, you don’t. You make me want to throw something at you. Something hard.”

“Sorry.”

She noticed his eyes twinkle. He was really too sexy to be let out.

“Seriously, though,” he said, “what do you suggest?”

“Carry on looking,” she replied promptly. “Also, one of us—or Sean—should try to trace where that manager went. It shouldn’t be too difficult. Somewhere at home I’ll have the hotel details, and I’m fairly sure the handout we got when we registered gave a potted history of the main staff. I always knew there was a reason I was a hoarder. So, do we head back to my place or carry on reading?”

She held her breath as he considered. She didn’t know about handouts, but she’d quite like to be hands on. But on what was taboo.

“Let’s head to your place. I’ll keep reading while you see if you can find the stuff the hotel gave you. Then I can ring Sean and let him know what we find out.”

“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.