The Stolen Identity (The Sydney Harbour Hospital Series Book 7)

by Chris Taylor

  He raised a querying eyebrow. “What’s with the cucumber? Not to your liking?”

  She chuckled. “I’m sure it’s very fresh – and for some people, no doubt it tastes delicious – but I’ve never been fond of cucumber. Not even when I was young.”

  Colt reached over and plucked the thin slices off her plate and tossed them into his mouth. Crunching loudly, he finished them off in a few bites.

  “Mm, you were right. Fresh and delicious.”

  Her smile reached all the way to her eyes. He stared at her and all of a sudden, he couldn’t catch his breath. Her mouth was partly open, her lips were moist and pink. A soft blush had stolen up her cheeks, highlighting her features. She was beautiful. There was no other way to describe her.

  His heart increased its pressure and his chest felt tight. Blood rushed to his groin. He cast around for something witty to say and came up with nothing. The silence lengthened. Heat crept up his neck. With an act of will, he tore his gaze from hers and reached blindly for his beer. Too late he remembered he’d left it at the bar. Why hadn’t he noticed that until now? It just went to show how completely the woman who’d agreed to share her evening with him, had captured his attention. This was not good.

  “Talking about weird things, I noticed a couple of Mom’s porcelain statues are missing from the bookshelf in the living room.”

  Her words were so far removed from his sudden wild fantasy of taking her in his arms and kissing her senseless, he blinked like he’d been doused with a bucket of ice. “Excuse me?”

  “Mom had a collection of Royal Doulton figurines. There were eight in total. They’re quite valuable. She kept them on a shelf in the living room. When I was at home today, I noticed two were missing. You can still see from the dust that had gathered around them where they stood.”

  Colt cleared his throat and fixed his thoughts firmly on the conversation. “Would your father have moved them?”

  “No, I don’t think so. Why would he? They’ve been on that shelf forever. Each time Mom would buy another one, she’d add it to the collection.”

  “Perhaps a couple got broken?” Colt suggested.

  Morgan shook her head. “That doesn’t make sense. If something hit the shelf by accident, you’d think the whole lot of them would have been damaged and the bookshelf’s not exactly in harm’s way. Besides, Dad lives on his own. He’s hardly going to do something careless like bumping into valuable items in his house and it’s not like he has a houseful of grandkids running in and out.”

  She said the words lightly, but he sensed an undertone of strain. She didn’t need to explain and he found himself imagining himself in the role of her partner, even for a short time.

  This time, the thought didn’t send a shaft of panic flooding through his veins. In fact, he remained quite calm. His unexpected reaction was more frightening than the usual feeling of terror that rushed through him whenever thoughts of marriage, kids and commitment filled his head.

  “Did you ask your uncle about the figurines?” he asked and surprised himself again by speaking in a tone that was calm and conversational.

  What the hell was happening to him? He ought to be in a lather of panic. The very thought of maintaining a conversation with a woman looking to settle down usually had that effect on him. What was it about Morgan that had him thinking otherwise for the first time in his life? And why did he have an uneasy feeling about Leslie and the figurines?

  “No, I didn’t get around to it. We spoke about Dad’s laptop and then I ended up checking my emails and found the one from Dad. I kind of got sidetracked after that. Things didn’t seem quite so out of whack. Dad was fine and promised to be back soon. I felt a whole lot more relaxed. Uncle Leslie talked to me about his past and I learned a lot about him. He’s had a tough life, but he’s come through it. I couldn’t help but feel proud of him.”

  Once again, Colt chose to remain silent on the subject of her uncle. He still wasn’t convinced Leslie O’Brien was the harmless prodigal twin he appeared to be. Still, as long as he treated Morgan right, it wasn’t Colt’s to call. This was between Morgan, her Uncle Leslie and her dad.

  Besides, he didn’t want to spoil the easy camaraderie that had sprung up between the two of them. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed the company of a woman he hadn’t been trying to get into bed.

  The thought sobered him. Hadn’t he only a moment ago been fantasizing about kissing her until both of them were gasping for breath? And in his fantasy, he’d had no intention of stopping there. What was this nonsense about enjoying the company of a woman he didn’t want to sleep with? Of course he wanted to sleep with her! It was all the complications that came with it that he shied away from.

  The best thing to do would be to stay the hell away from her, but for the life of him, he couldn’t do it. He was drawn to her. He had been from the first moment he saw her across the common room of a frat house at the University of New England in Armidale.

  Colt had only just arrived at Beau’s from the Academy. He was on his Christmas break. The last thing he’d wanted to do was go to a party, but Beau had dragged him along anyway. He’d spotted Morgan right away and knew he had to meet her. She’d ended the night in his bed.

  The memory of their first time together hit him full force in the gut. His body surged with remembered lust. His heart thumped. His hands clenched into fists. He sneaked a glance in her direction, but she appeared oblivious to his predicament and for that, he was relieved.

  Needing to escape the close confines of the table, he pushed back his chair and stood. Morgan looked up at him in surprise.

  “Are you ready to leave?” he asked.

  Her eyebrows rose higher at his abruptness and he cursed silently under his breath, but she stood and gathered her handbag without comment and followed him out the door. The night was pleasantly warm after the air conditioning inside the bar. He glanced up at the sky and noticed the heavy clouds that obscured the stars. He could almost smell the rain and the realization lifted his spirits. From his earliest memories, he’d always loved the power and might of a storm.

  “It feels like rain,” he murmured and saw Morgan tense beside him.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “I don’t like storms.”

  “Really? What’s not to like? The howling wind, the crack of lightning, the rumble of the thunder. It gets my adrenaline pumping just thinking about it. Unless you’re stuck out in it. I can understand that it’s not so great then.”

  “It isn’t anything like that,” she replied softly.

  “Okay, so now I’m intrigued. What is it about storms that you don’t like?”

  She was silent for so long, he wasn’t sure she was going to answer. When she did, her voice was a low murmur. “There was a terrible storm the night my mom died. She was home, of course, not out in it, but it was awful just the same. I can still remember the howl of the wind and the crash of lightning in the sky. It played in rhythm with Mom’s silent cries of pain as the cancer slowly won the battle.”

  She turned to face him. Her eyes were huge and sad in her face. Colt’s heart catapulted with the need to comfort her and without giving it any more thought, he drew her into his arms.

  Her head came up and his came down. Their lips met in the middle. Warm and pliant, hers moved beneath his and he greedily took all she offered. A moment later, she wrenched herself away. She stared at him in the dimness, her breath coming fast.

  “What are we doing? What am I doing? This is such a bad idea. You don’t do commitment.”

  He shot her a cheeky wink. “Who said anything about commitment?”

  The moment the words were out of his mouth, he wished he could take them back. She recoiled as if he’d struck her and shock and anger flooded her face. The mouth that he’d kissed so well was now set into a thin line. The feeling of disappointment he felt was mirrored on her face and that cut him to the quick.

  “I’d like to go home,” she said, her voi
ce low and vibrating with anger.

  In silence, they returned to his condo. Colt moved into the kitchen and filled the jug. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

  She stared at him and slowly shook her head. “No, thank you. I’m still full from dinner. I think I might turn in. Goodnight.”

  And without another word, she turned and left.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The crack of lightning right outside Morgan’s window brought her awake with a start. With her heart pounding, she sat up in bed and listened. The storm that had been hanging around since early evening had finally hit. Another flash illuminated the night sky visible through the open curtains that framed the window. It was quickly followed by another rumble of thunder. A moment later, the heavens opened.

  Her heart continued to pound and sweat broke out on her brow. She tried to get a grip on her panic. She was safe and warm inside Colt’s house. She couldn’t come to harm. The reassuring self-talk should have calmed her, but it had little effect. Like it always did at times like this, common sense and logic deserted her. All she could see was her mother, moaning softly in her drug-induced stupor as the cancer ravaged her body and all along, the storm continued to rage.

  Morgan didn’t realize she was crying until she felt the dampness on her cheeks. Even after all these years, memories of those final moments of her mother’s life upset her. And now, her dad had gone away on a trip of self-discovery and she was left all alone. She had no one. Except her uncle, and he didn’t really count. She’d only met him a couple of days ago and she was still coming to terms with the fact her father had a twin, let alone that Uncle Leslie was now part of her family.

  Another bolt of lightning cracked in the distance and she cried out and covered her ears. A moment later, the door to her bedroom was flung open and Colt stood there wearing nothing more than a pair of boxer shorts.

  “Morgan! Are you all right?” he asked in a tone that was filled with concern.

  She shook her head, beyond words. She thought the storm had abated and there was nothing left but the rain, but it had somehow circled back again with renewed ferocity. The thunder and lightning crashed and banged and she jumped each time it sounded. Colt came closer and bent over and switched on the lamp that stood on the nightstand near her bed.

  He took one look at her and cursed softly under his breath. Moving to sit beside her, he cradled her against his chest. She breathed in deeply of his woodsy cologne, taking comfort from his warmth and strength. Clinging to his waist like he was a lifeline, together, they rode out the storm.

  “Shh, it’s okay, Morgan,” he murmured against her hair. His hand stroked her tenderly, rhythmically, soothing her fear. “It’s just a storm. It will pass soon and everything will be all right again.”

  Drawing comfort from his presence, Morgan tightened her hold around his waist. The storm continued to vent outside but somehow, having Colt close beside her, helped her keep her memories and fear at bay. She lifted her head to thank him.

  Their gazes locked. Her mouth was inches from his. The golden glow from the lamp cast shadows across his handsome face. His eyes were dark with longing and the need she saw there stole her breath. Despite her better judgement, with a pounding heart, she turned up her face and kissed him softly on the lips.

  As if dry tinder had been ignited, heat rushed through every pore. His mouth opened under hers and their tongues tangled in a frantic, fiery dance. She buried her fingers in his hair and held his head in place, needing to kiss him, to taste him over and over again.

  His hand stole down her side, skimming over one of her breasts. Desire shivered down her spine and centered in her core. Her nipples tightened, almost painfully, beneath the satin of her pajamas. She groaned and pressed herself awkwardly against him, yearning for more.

  Pushing her back against the pillows, he immediately followed her down. She reached up and clung to his shoulders. Firm, hard muscles bunched beneath her fingers, sending a thrill of need coursing through her. Moving lower, she splayed her hands over the bare skin of his pecs.

  He was as beautiful and perfect as she remembered – even more so. His body had filled out and strengthened, fulfilling the promise of his youth. His broad chest was still mostly hairless and glinted gold in the soft light. She marveled over the taut muscles across his stomach.

  Another clap of thunder sounded right outside the house. She jumped. Colt leaned over and kissed her again, gently on the mouth. Taking her with him, he turned on his side and nibbled his way to her ear. His tongue, warm and moist, dipped into the curves and crevices, driving her wild.

  She groaned again and moved until their legs were entwined. His erection pressed against her belly, thick and hard. Without thinking, she reached down between them and slipped her hand beneath the waistband of his boxers.

  Her fingers skimmed over the head of his cock and then circled his impressive length. Squeezing rhythmically, she elicited a groan.

  “You’re a witch, Morgan O’Brien and I am totally beguiled,” he murmured and reached out to cup one of her breasts. Pinching her nipple between his fingers, all of a sudden, it was her turn to gasp.

  “Colt!”

  “You don’t like it?” he muttered, burying his face against her neck.

  “I like it too much,” she admitted.

  A voice in the back of her head reminded her that she and Colt were all wrong. They wanted different things. He was about today. She was about forever. It would never work between them. Why the hell was she complicating her life?

  The thoughts went round and round in her head until the noise nearly drove her mad and then, as their kiss deepened once more, it no longer mattered. She was there, with Colt, needing him, wanting him. She’d take whatever he offered, even for just a night. And in the morning, she’d get her life back on track and satisfy herself with the memories.

  Mentally, she rehearsed how it would be – being friends in the morning light. The thought filled her with sadness and disappointment.

  As if reading her mind, Colt drew slightly away and tilted her chin up to face him. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, his voice soft and serious.

  She stared at him and her brain fired a thousand reasons why sleeping with him was a very bad idea, but she ignored the turmoil in her head and nodded. “Yes,” she said.

  He groaned and kissed her hard on the mouth and then pushed her gently away. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back in a minute.” And with that, he stood and left the room.

  Morgan had hardly enough time to register his absence before he was once again by her side. A flash of something in his fingers caught her eye and she realized he held a condom. She was relieved he had thought of it and was being responsible. One thing they didn’t need was another unplanned pregnancy.

  Not that she’d ever have another abortion. The first one was a sad and depressing experience and one she never wanted to repeat. Besides, she was in different place now – they both were. They were no longer in college with nothing to offer a child.

  “Are you still okay with this?” Colt asked quietly and Morgan was grateful for his consideration and attentiveness.

  “Yes,” she replied and pulled him hard up against her.

  Kissing him with all the feeling she’d stored up inside her for so long, she imprinted the taste and feel of him on her mind and body. His thick hair smelled clean and fruity, like it had been freshly shampooed. The stubble on his chin was scratchy, but she liked the way it felt: strong and masculine.

  His lips were full and firm and were delicious to the taste. She traced the outline with her tongue and then slipped her tongue between his teeth. He kissed her back with feeling and she could have sworn they were still in love. Though they’d only been together a few short weeks, right from the very start, there had been fireworks when they came together. This time was no different.

  Colt angled his head and deepened the kiss and she moaned softly under her breath. Fresh need spiraled through her, heating
her blood. With murmurs of encouragement, he slid his hands beneath her pajama top and found her naked skin. His hands cupped her breasts and skimmed over her nipples, eliciting another gasp. But still he wasn’t finished his torture and as his hands slid under the waistband of her shorts she braced herself against the intimate contact.

  Warm and rough, his fingers caressed her mound and slid between her folds. Slick with need, her legs fell open as he prodded her heated flesh.

  “You feel so warm, so wet,” he muttered.

  His words sent another shaft of desire coursing through her and she tightened her hold on his shoulders. The storm fell away and there was only Colt, surrounding her, consuming her, filling her with need.

  “I want you, Colt,” she whispered, her voice husky and low.

  Needing no further encouragement, he reached over for the condom on the nightstand and quickly rolled it on. Settling himself between her legs, his cock prodded her entrance and then eased inside her, one agonizing inch at a time.

  “Please, Colt,” she begged. “It’s been so long. I need you.”

  Emotion flared hotly in his eyes and she was rewarded with a sudden thrust. He filled her with his heated flesh, stretching her muscles wide. She gasped at the feel of him deep inside her and clung to him with all her might.

  His breath came shallow and fast in her ear, as if he were straining to hold himself back. Her arms tightened around his neck, drawing him close. She lifted her hips in silent encouragement and slowly he began to move. He withdrew almost all the way and then glided smoothly back in. In and out, over and over, until she was mindless with need.

  Fire burned hot in her belly and even hotter between her legs. Her breasts felt heavy, her clit tingled and pressure built way deep inside. She clung to his shoulders like he was a lifeboat and she was being tossed about in a stormy sea. Her fingernails dug into his skin, but he continued his sensual onslaught.