He picked a career that wasn’t really a lie but that would call to her greedy instincts. “I’m in sales.”
She brightened. “Really? Like what?”
His grin turned a little smug. Knew she’d take the bait. “Mergers and acquisitions, mostly. Nothing exciting, really. I just finished the purchase of some property in New York.”
Disgust flickered through her features.
Not the reaction he’d been expecting. “That bad?”
“Oh no. Sorry.” She gave him a sheepish grin. “At work today, one of my customers told me about how the guy who’s putting me out of business just purchased a possible landmark and remodeled it, destroying any historical value it might’ve had.”
He ground his teeth. Landmark his ass. That old hotel had been trash. There’d been so much human and rat waste inside, his crews had worn hazard suits when gutting it. He’d ask if she had read any real data on the deal or the building, but then she might actually look it up and see his picture.
“The guy sounds better and better.” He couldn’t help the hard note in his voice, but from her agreement, she interpreted it as outrage about the guy who’s putting her out of business.
“Right? I can’t believe he’d be so different from his dad.”
Wes fought the angry set of his mouth into a neutral position. He wasn’t supposed to know anything about this. He wanted to ask how he was so much different than Sam. It wasn’t like people handed realty over to the man. Sam had played just as dirty in business as he had in Wes’s personal life.
There, they had been alike. As far as looks went, they hadn’t been more opposite. Sam had been shorter than him by two inches, with dusty blond hair before it’d gone gray. He’d had a stocky build, not the lean frame Wes assumed came from his mom.
“You knew his dad?”
Sadness lit her eyes. “He was the Sam I mentioned that passed away.” She chuckled. “When I leased the property, I’d never met him, but I got a kick out of his assistant.”
Yeah, Franklin was a kick all right. If you called disapproving glances every time Wes handed him an order a good time.
“Then I went to TC Comic Con and I wore my usual Mara Jade costume—my mom named me after Luke Skywalker’s wife—and this robust man dressed as,” her laugh tinkled around him like crystals, “not a Starfleet captain, but an admiral. Can you believe it? I thought, here’s a guy who thinks outside of the box. Anyway, he asked me about my costume. When I told him I was named after the Star Wars character, he realized I was the one who’d just leased his storefront and we chatted all night.”
Delight ran across her face and Wes could only stare. His heart slammed into his feet. Rage churned and threatened to reject the water he sipped.
His dad had used to take him to that comic book convention. Another one of the traditions that’d been lost in the divorce. Had his dad attended to pick up women half his age?
She unfolded her napkin and refolded it, her eyes glittering with unshed tears. “He started coming into my store after that and we would get to talking.” She looked up at the ceiling like she was fighting the spill of tears. “He was such a mentor.”
He was about to snidely inquire how an old man mentored a pretty young lady, but the spell was broken when the server delivered their meals.
Mara let out a groan that went straight to his cock. “I’m starving. This looks delicious.”
His manhood completely forgot the girl had been gushing about his father. All it cared about were the memories of how good she’d promised to be in bed. Or in the car.
They ate and chatted. He’d been planning to wait until she was finished before asking her more about the store, but his phone vibrated.
He pulled it out and saw it was Franklin. What the hell? If there were problems at his club, it’d be his own assistant, Helen, calling. Franklin only handled Robson Industries, what Wes had inherited from Sam.
“I have to take this.” He slid out of the booth and aimed for the front of the restaurant, where the din was lower. “What’s going on?”
“Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Robson.” Franklin treated him the same as Sam, except Wes heard the undercurrents of a scowl. “I’m afraid there’s a protest on the property in NYC. Some of the construction equipment has been vandalized.”
“Are we talking spray paint or damage?”
“Both, sir. Police are reporting they’re still there, camping out on the property.”
“Arrest them all. Trespassing and defacing private property.”
Franklin hesitated. “Yes, Mr. Robson.”
There it was. The censure Franklin never failed to give.
“What, Franklin?” He bit the words out. Why did he keep the guy on, and in such a high position? Yes, he could trust him. Franklin absolutely knew his way around the business and every facet of Sam’s old empire.
It couldn’t be sentimentality.
“While you’d be within your rights, I don’t think such an abrupt action will sit well with the citizens of NYC that care about the history of the building.”
“Its history was full of piss and vomit and empty needles. Even the rats decided to find a better place to live.”
“None of them are arguing that it could’ve been condemned. They fear that it’s a sign of the future. You come in and build, possibly buy more property, or someone else will. They can barely afford to live in the neighborhood now. If that happens, they fear not just losing the meaning behind their home, but being the homeless ones roaming from abandoned building to abandoned building.”
Well, the New Yorkers were right about one thing. Wes was throwing around an amount for an offer to the neighboring structure’s owner. Everyone could be bought, and he had a banker friend who was interested in expanding into New York. If word of this silliness got around, his friend might back out and find another space, as well as think Wes was weak and lacked backbone. Wes couldn’t let the Robson name down.
“Tell the police to arrest them all. Give them whatever information they need to press charges.” Wes ended the call.
He glared out of the picture window by the entrance, clenching and unclenching a fist. That NYC purchase had plagued him with nothing but problems. The one-point-eight-million dollar condo he was in the middle of buying in Manhattan would be worthless if he had to endure the constant headache of protesters every time he sealed a deal. Why the hell did he want to live in New York again?
Winters that didn’t reach twenty below zero, for one.
No, he’d act hard and swift. Then he’d be the one to buy the whole block and really give them something to complain about.
“Everything all right?”
He almost jumped at Mara’s question. He turned and looked past her to the booth where they’d been sitting. A young man was bussing their table.
She saw where he looked and waved it off. “I got the bill. I hope you don’t mind not hanging out here long. Home sounds nice after a long day.”
I got the bill. Had any of his dates ever picked up the tab? Wes’s mother never bought him dinner, but Mara didn’t know his pockets were lined and loaded.
“Thanks. How can I ever pay you back?” His crooked smile infused heat into her gaze. So easy.
She jingled the keys. “Think you can find the way to my place again?”
Chapter Five
Mara couldn’t unlock her door fast enough and she didn’t bother turning on the light. No need. The flames that had ignited between them the previous night burned hotter than ever. The mysterious phone call had threatened to put a hitch in her night, but she shoved it out of her mind. She wasn’t young and naïve anymore, but she wasn’t going to suspect every guy she dated of deceiving her.
She wanted him, wanted his touch all over her body. If anyone could wipe out the stress over her business closing, the shitty news of her mom sick in the hospital, and the dismal outlook of her life in general, it’d be the man who’d just rested his hands on her hips.
Tonigh
t, more than last night, she needed an escape from Mara Jade Baranski’s life. Sam might be a fleeting fling, but he was what the doctor had ordered.
Don’t get tangled up with a man just because he’s good looking. Make sure he’s more handsome inside than out. Her mother’s cautionary advice should be heeded, but Mara didn’t have it in her tonight. Her mom hadn’t expected her dad to leave without a care. Mara didn’t expect Sam to stay. There was a difference. If more grew out of her physical relationship with Sam—win. If he walked, well, the complication of a man had no place in her life now anyway.
Sam’s caress moved up her rib cage until his hands draped her shoulders. He squeezed. She moaned. A massage would rival sex.
“I have a debt to settle with you.” His breath whispered over her. He kissed her neck. “Are you cold?”
His teasing tone implied he knew he’d caused her reaction. He straightened and kneaded her shoulders. She dropped her purse and rolled her head back and forth.
So much tension.
He reached around her front, lifted her sweater, and slipped it off, dropping more kisses on her neck. She moaned and pressed into him. Next, he removed her cami.
The small circles he rubbed up and down her back were divine. How had her knees not buckled?
Her bra was unhooked and her breath froze. Fast and furious was the pace she’d anticipated after last night, not slow and sensual.
Warm hands cupped her breasts and he rolled her nipples between his fingers. She leaned back against his chest until he was the only reason she remained standing. Threading her hands through his hair, she enjoyed the multitude of sensations. A gorgeous man at her back, his strong hands stroking her, his soft hair tickling her fingers.
In a sudden movement, he swooped her up. She gasped and grabbed for him.
His hot look of pure desire robbed her of words. Did her expression mirror his?
He must’ve remembered where her room was from when she’d changed. Without pause, he stretched her out on her bed. So glad she’d made it this morning and it wasn’t in its normal state of disarray.
With a searing look of promise, he rolled her over and continued his sensual massage.
So. Good.
She whined in complaint when he stopped.
He chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’m not done.” An easy tug on her hips, and she rolled onto her back.
His gaze snagged on her chest. Her swollen breasts were slightly reddened from his touch, their nipples jutting toward the ceiling. Peeling down her leggings, he raised his hot gaze to hers.
“Did you know mixing your comic brands is a felony?”
A guy who could tell the difference—hot. “You’ll have to punish me.”
He released one foot from her leggings, then the other, not breaking eye contact. She clung to his words, terrified they’d get interrupted again, that life would intervene like it always did.
“You won’t believe how much I need this.” Her words spilled out, a plea for him not to stop.
He cocked a brow and a smug grin lifted his lips. Dancing his fingers over her bare legs, he worked his way up to her panties and laid his hand on her sex. “Oh, I think I can tell.”
She panted and rocked her hips, her legs spreading of their own accord. He shifted so his palm pressed against her clit.
With a growl, he flipped her again.
“You’re driving me crazy.” She bowed her back into the hand he’d laid at the small of her back.
“I said I wasn’t done with the massage yet.”
He kneaded the muscles of her back and she transformed into putty. His weight depressed the bed next to her, his masculine presence overwhelming the room. None of her previous boyfriends had had that effect. They hadn’t had Sam’s broad shoulders or anything close to the suggestion of bulging biceps through his shirt.
She would get to see him naked tonight. Her stomach fluttered. Not normally self-conscious, she hoped she wouldn’t be when an Adonis like him stripped down. Because she was wearing just her panties, and putting more clothes on now wasn’t an option. Not until she orgasmed hard. A few times.
He bent toward her, close to her head. “Are you relaxed yet?”
His baritone rumbled through her. Relaxed as in muscles not tense? Yes. Sexually relaxed? Stupid question.
His weight lifted and clothing rustled. No way was she missing a second of his bare skin.
The cozy sweater he’d been wearing was off and he was drawing his T-shirt over his head. With her exhale, her body sank farther into the bed. What. A. Sight.
Inch after inch of bronzed skin dipped and curved over solid muscle. She’d only seen abs like that on magazine covers. Defined pecs flexed and lifted as he unsnapped his pants.
Ooh, and the biceps. She was an arm girl and she rarely got to feel up guns. Shoving his hand in a pocket, he withdrew a condom and tossed it on the bed before going back to undressing.
She sucked in air. His pants were coming off. God, they looked expensive. She didn’t know anything about brand names, but she’d guess his pair hadn’t been purchased in a second-hand store, or even an outlet store.
He must do well in sales. How did a guy with a white-collar job maintain a body like that?
“See something you like?”
Her smile was coy. She never smiled like that! She rolled to her side and used her arm as a kickstand for her head so she could keep her gaze on him. “I don’t know. I mean, you should start going to the gym once in a while.”
He paused, toeing off his shoes to get his pants all the way off, then a low chuckle sounded before he straightened. “I’ll think about it.”
Only his black, sporty boxer-briefs stood in the way and they were doing a piss-poor job. The swollen head of his cock pushed past the waistband.
A swell of female pride puffed her chest. She had done that to him and she hadn’t touched him yet.
She hadn’t touched him yet.
Rising to her knees, she crawled to the edge of the bed. His gaze took on a predatory glint. She rimmed the top of his underwear with her fingers. The words printed on the band weren’t a style she’d heard of, and his underclothes looked like nothing she’d find where she shopped.
Unwrapping her present to herself, she freed him. Long, thick, and proud, he remained still and let her skim her hand up and down his shaft. It pulsed and the heat radiating off his skin stoked her excitement.
It was playtime, and she had one question. “Do I need to delve into my flavored-condom stash?”
***
Wes’s gaze was riveted on Mara’s lips. “I’m clean,” he managed to choke out. He played it safe most of the time, but he regularly saw a private physician. “Do whatever you want.” As long as it means sucking my dick.
Was she going to? The expression on her face said it all and it affected him more than any other woman he’d been with.
Why? He suspected she was a user, but with her full breasts lifting with each breath she took, it became less of an issue. The memory of her supple body on his fingertips threw him off his game.
He needed to take charge again, to remember that he controlled this situation. He meant to push her back, but her mouth closed around the tip of his cock as her hand wrapped around it. His hips bucked and his grip landed on her head.
A flick of her tongue, and his head fell back with a groan. He fisted both hands in her hair, loosening her hair clip. Damn thing was in the way. He plucked the clasp out. Thick waves of pink-tinted, downy brown hair spilled over her shoulders.
She created an erotic sight. Her mouth wrapped around his cock, her eyes closed, her fist pumping the base. Those beautiful hazel eyes of hers flicked open to meet his gaze. They lit with mirth and she dragged her teeth along his sensitized flesh.
“Oh god.” He concentrated on not shoving her head closer, testing if she could relax her throat.
Yesss. She could. The woman had a mouth and he was going to spend his load in less than sixty seconds.
; “Enough.” Cupping her chin, he drew her off him.
She licked her lips and scooted back on the bed. Maybe he should prep her, but by her glistening sex, she was ready. With Mara reclining before him, he retrieved the condom, ripped it open, and rolled it on. He hated the squeeze of the plastic, wished it wasn’t necessary, but it’d allow him to be inside Mara, and that was all he cared about.
Dimly, the design of her duvet cover registered.
They were going to fuck on the Bat-Signal. It’d be a first for him, and he kind of wanted to pump his fist in the air.
He kneeled on the bed and slid her panties off. Then, he laid a hand on each of her knees and shoved them apart.
She audibly sucked in a breath while his whooshed out. Fine, dusky hair framed swollen pink labia, slightly separated to reveal her arousal tucked in between. He’d tasted her twenty-four hours ago and still felt like a starving man.
She squirmed and her movements only opened her more. His cock throbbed, demanded release, but he wanted her to feel just as crazy.
Using one finger, he swirled it around her entrance. She fell back on her elbows, watching him. Once he was covered in her juices, he circled her clit and was rewarded with a moan. The firm bud pulsed against his pad. He wanted to suck on it, but the drive to thrust into her hard enough to make her breasts bounce was stronger.
But first, he trailed his fingertip down until he entered her. Her hips rose in encouragement. Withdraw, enter, he pumped his digit a few more times until she took a shuddering breath.
He switched out his hand for his cock. Forward momentum met some resistance; he must be larger than she was used to. Not an uncommon occurrence for him. Inch by inch, he fed his length inside, his gaze glued to where she encircled his erection. She suddenly clutched his shoulders while she wiggled to adjust to him.
Finally seated fully inside of her wet heat, he dragged his gaze up her body to her face. A hint of trepidation remained in her expression.
“I won’t hurt you.” Why did he feel like he was lying? He meant physically, but his spirit rebelled, urging him to be true to his word.
Unmistaken Identity Page 4