MisTAKEN Identities Paranormal Romance

by Allan, Sydney

  The drive to the apple orchard/cider mill was short but very enjoyable, and not only because of the doll of a man sitting next to Jenny. The scenery changed quickly as they drove, going from spacious sprawling suburban homes to empty farm fields, to bundles of trees cloaked in green and gold leaves. There wasn’t a single cloud to spoil the cool hue of the clear sky. Picture-perfect. To the east, the beginnings of a deepening color—closer to purple—hovered near the horizon as the sun squatted low to the west.

  Jason parked the car on the dirt lawn that served as a makeshift parking lot for the orchard and got out. After collecting the blanket, he opened her door. “Careful. The mud’s pretty deep here.”

  “Yikes. You weren’t exaggerating.” No matter how she wished to avoid it, the deeply rutted mud was everywhere. It wasn’t looking good.

  As she feared, when she stepped out of the car the heel of her ankle-high book stuck in the thick muck. She tried to pull it out, but the harder she struggled, the deeper her boot seemed to sink, threatening to pull her with it. Finally, her foot slipped out and she teetered on the other, flailing, expressing her concern in mild expletives, and grasping any part of Jason she could reach to steady herself. Her fingers grazed something on their way up to his arm and she heard him gasp sharply.

  With the distinct feeling in her clumsy, undirected flailing she’d touched a sensitive spot or two, she glanced his way the minute she’d managed to steady herself on one foot—as steady as one could be standing on what could best be described as an oil slick.

  He looked surprised…or pained, she couldn’t be sure which. “What can I do to help?” he asked.

  “Rescue my boot?” She pointed at the defenseless, expensive shoe that was in danger of being sucked out of sight at any moment. “That’s no normal mud. I’m quite certain it’s quickmud—you know, like quicksand.”

  “There’s no such thing.” He chuckled and carefully bent to retrieve the sinking article before it was lost forever. Supporting her with one arm, he helped her sit back in the car without putting her stockinged foot in the muck then went to the trunk. “I think I have some paper towels in here.”

  “Is there anything you’re not prepared for?” she joked as she waited for him to return.

  He slammed the trunk and handed the roll to her. “Sure, plenty. I’m not ready for you to dump me.”

  She felt her cheeks flaming. He was worried about her ditching him? He had that backwards in her opinion. She’d be out of her mind to dump him. There had to be dozens of women standing in line waiting for their chance at dating Jason Foxx, women who wouldn’t sell his grandmother’s art glass to junk dealers or rack up attorney’s fees for auto accidents. “You’re just saying that to be funny.”

  He stooped so his eyes were level with hers. “Oh no I’m not. I mean it. I can’t believe how things have changed between us. Practically overnight. I don’t want this to end. Tell me it’s for real and I’m not going to wake up tomorrow morning and learn it was all a dream.” He took her shoe from her then pulled a paper towel off the roll she’d forgotten she was holding. Without looking down, he began rubbing the dirt away.

  “If you’re dreaming, then I am too. We’re sharing the same dream and I don’t want to wake up either.”

  He wadded up the soiled paper and tossed it into the car then took her foot in his hand and eased it into the boot. “There you go,” he whispered. His gaze never once left hers. It delved deep, beyond her body to the furthest reaches of her soul.

  This was the most amazing, erotic moment. She felt like he was literally bound to her—mind, body and spirit—for a brief, heavenly instant.

  “Thanks,” was all she could utter. She licked lips that suddenly felt very dry and stared deep into his eyes. What did she see there? Fear? Hope? Uncertainty?

  A child screamed nearby, slowly breaking the spell and gently nudging Jenny back to the world around them. She looked up and caught sight of a woman and man both struggling to subdue an angry toddler and strap him into the vehicle next to theirs.

  Still trying to gather her wits and find a footing as she stood, she motioned toward them. “Will that be us someday?”

  “Probably,” he answered, supporting her with an arm. “With our tempers we’re bound to produce a houseful of hotheads.”

  Her heart did a couple of back flips with a twist. He said probably! They would probably be married and probably have kids. That was almost as good as a promise.

  Back-stepping, he pulled her with him until they were both standing on firm ground. Even though he no longer needed to hold her, he didn’t release her.

  She didn’t mind. Being in his arms was like being in heaven, it had to be. Although she’d never actually been to heaven—never had a near-death experience, outside of a close call ages ago when she’d accidentally turned the wrong way down a one-way road and hit a cab head-on—she was sure nothing outside of sitting before God himself could be better than being held in Jason’s arms. “You? I haven’t seen any sign of a bad temper in you.”

  “You have a short memory.” He pointed at the red-faced parents who seemed to have finally won the battle, declaring victory by shutting the car door and taking their places in the front seats. “I wonder if you were a little hellion as a kid. I know I was.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” she answered honestly. “You’d have to ask my folks.”

  “I just might do that. But for now, let’s see if we can get further this time before you start losing pieces of clothing.” Loosening his embrace, he slid one hand down her arm until his fingers entwined with hers. He started walking down the driveway. “By the way, does that mean you’ll finally let me meet your parents?”

  He hasn’t met Monica’s family yet? Why not? “I’ll do my best. Promise.”

  “Do your best at what? Keeping on your clothing or introducing me to your folks?”

  “Both.”

  “Hmmm…I’ve heard that promise before. But I learned long ago that revisiting old arguments with a woman is plain stupid.”

  “You’re a wise man.”

  Holding hands, the blanket wadded up and tucked under Jason’s arm, they continued toward the barn that served as restaurant and store. They purchased some hot dogs, caramel apples and hot cider then stood in a long line for the wagon ride to the bonfire. From their position, they could see the gold glow of the fire cutting through the trees in the distance.

  The wagon rumbled up a few minutes later and they settled into the loose strewn straw. Jenny leaned back against Jason and covered them both with the blanket. She inhaled deeply, relishing the combination of scents. Straw, burning wood, that familiar autumn scent that hung in the chilly air and the tangy smell of Jason’s aftershave.

  Could she stay there forever?

  During the ride she just sat in silence, snuggled as close to Jason as she could get. The cold air nipped at her cheeks and nose but the rest of her remained toasty warm. Jason produced enough heat to qualify him to moonlight as a blast furnace. She could just imagine trying to sleep next to him on a sultry summer night.

  She wondered if she’d ever get the opportunity to find out for herself if her suspicions were correct about that.

  She felt his fingers comb through her hair and her nerve endings got all tingly and jumpy. She wanted to turn around and plant a good, long kiss on those lips, which she guessed were probably curled up at the corners in a playful smile. Unfortunately, the wagon was full of riders. And based upon the songs they were singing, snazzy adaptations of gospel tunes, she’d guessed they wouldn’t appreciate a round of tonsil hockey amongst their midst.

  That was probably for the better anyway. The way she was feeling tonight, she feared if she got started with Jason she’d never have the strength to stop. Monica’s body or not, making love with Jason was out of the question.

  After touring several empty fields, an apple orchard and finally a crop of woods, the wagon dropped them off at a clearing surrounded by more trees. The huge bonfire
lit the entire area, and even from a distance Jenny could see the shadowy figures of people as they moved around, evidently preparing to catch the wagon back to the barn.

  When the tractor stopped, Jason helped Jenny from the wagon. They found a cozy seat on a fallen log close to the fire.

  “This is wonderful,” Jenny said as she took in the sight of the raging red and gold fire, the deep shadows of the woods, and the clear, deep ebony sky with zillions of stars. “Absolutely beautiful.”

  “I agree,” he answered in a deep voice full of promises that produced both waves of heat and goose bumps at the same time.

  She glanced at Jason and he smiled. “You’re teasing me.”

  “No, I’d never do that.” Jason unwrapped a hot dog and handed it to her. “Ketchup?”

  “Yes, please.”

  He dug around inside the paper bag and produced a plastic packet of the condiment. He handed it to her before removing the foil from a second hot dog. He buried his under layers of mustard, pickle relish and ketchup then he held it up. “Shall we toast? To a date where the highlight is not a trip to the emergency room?”

  “I’ll second that.” She bumped her hot dog against his then took a bite. It was fresh-from-the-icebox cold.

  He wrinkled his nose. “Weren’t these supposed to be cooked?”

  “That’s what the sign said.” She forced the mouthful of cold meat and bun down her throat.

  “This is not the best food I’ve ever eaten.”

  “We can warm them up in the fire,” she suggested.

  “That sounds like a good idea.” He looked around. “Um…we don’t exactly have the proper tools though.”

  “That’s okay. We can improvise.” Jenny handed her hot dog to Jason and stood, making sure to brush the dirt off her rear end. Walking around with dirt on one’s butt had to be a major date faux pas. “Weren’t you ever in the scouts?”

  “Nope.”

  “Me neither. But we can figure it out anyway. A couple of long sticks ought to do the trick. There are probably some over there by the woods.”

  They rewrapped their cold hot dogs in the foil to keep them from getting dirty and left their seats to search for fallen branches to use. None lay at the outskirts of the woods so they were forced to wander deeper into the woods. They found success about a hundred yards from the warmth of the fire.

  Each carrying a stick, they returned to their seats.

  The fire warmed Jenny’s face as she scooted closer to toast her hot dog. And the rest of her warmed as Jason settled snuggly close next to her.

  “This is wonderful,” she repeated for the umpteenth time. A city girl at heart, she still appreciated the beauty and quiet of the country. Especially when it was shared with a hunk like Jason. If she had to describe her dream date, she’d describe a night exactly like this one.

  “Yeah. I could get used to this real fast.” He wrapped his free arm around her shoulders and gave them a squeeze and she tipped her head and let it rest on his shoulder. Oh yes, a dream date indeed. “What do you think about getting a place like this someday?” he asked.

  “An orchard?”

  “Maybe not an orchard, but a house with some land.”

  “I’ve never considered it. I’m not exactly a farm girl. Wouldn’t know a crop of wheat from a crop of corn,” she answered, trying to think of how Monica might answer his questions. Monica on a farm? It was as ridiculous as notion as hiring Paris Hilton to milk the cows.

  “I wouldn’t either,” he confessed. With his free hand, he rubbed her arm. “Are you warm enough?”

  “Sure am. Could you just imagine us on a farm? It would be like that old show, Green Acres. Did you watch that one when you were a kid?”

  “Sure did! Yeah, we would probably look like the stupid city kids who don’t know what they’re doing. But I promise I won’t have a pet pig in the house. Oh and we can have a phone inside.” He kissed the top of her head. “I would hate to see you fall from that pole. Then again, if you landed on that cute butt of yours, I might have to kiss it to make it all better.”

  She glanced up at his face and he waggled an eyebrow.

  Her face flaming, and not because of the fire, she gave him a playful nudge.

  “Okay, maybe not. I’m scared of heights.”

  She chuckled and turned her hot dog. The underside was nice and toasted. “And think about how dangerous it would be to make a phone call during a thunderstorm.”

  “Good point. So, assuming I forgo the pet pig and outside phone, are you with me?”

  She scanned the darkness and marveled at the sky. Amazed by how many stars she found overhead, so many more than she saw at home, she sighed. And fought with the temptation to say, hell yes! This was Monica’s life she was talking about here, not hers. Monica’s future husband and future home. “Don’t tease me. I don’t want to get my hopes up and then be disappointed.”

  “I don’t ever want to disappoint you.” He cupped her chin in his palm and lifted until her face turned toward his. Then he lowered his head.

  Knowing what was coming, she closed her eyes.

  His kiss was soft, erotic, but not demanding. His lips slid softly over hers and she held her breath and turned her body toward him. Determined to get closer, she dropped her stick to lift her arms and wrap them around his neck. Her breasts pressed against his chest and she gasped as his tongue slid into her mouth to taste her. Her fingers gripped soft, thick hair at his nape.

  A sudden round of loud crackling and hissing in the fire made her break the kiss before it went any further. Still, even though the intimate contact had been brief, she was dazed a little and giddy. Focusing as she followed the line of her dropped stick to the fire was a challenge.

  Eventually, her gaze got there and she realized her hot dog was gone.

  “Oh drats! I lost my dog,” she said, laughing. She picked up her stick and poked at a log, and brilliant red and gold sparks drifted into the night sky.

  “I’ll share mine.” He carefully pulled his from the flame and together they wrapped it in the bun. Jason slathered one end with ketchup, the other with what relish, mustard and ketchup he could squeeze out of the mostly empty packets.

  Jenny held the bun at the center between them and said, “Let’s both take a bite on the count of three. Just promise you won’t take my hand off.”

  His eyes glittered in the dim light. The flicker of the fire danced in them, making them lively and playful. “I may want your hand, but not to eat.”

  Did he mean what she thought he meant?

  She didn’t know how to respond, other than to count, “One, two, three.” She leaned forward and bit into her end of the hot dog. It was warm, toasted, delicious. As she chewed, she closed her eyes. “Mmmm…”

  He laughed and she opened her eyes to enjoy the sight. His whole face lit up when he was amused. He looked young and sexy and utterly adorable. She loved his dimples, the way his husky chuckles rumbled through her body like a deep tremor, the love she saw in his eyes as he looked at her.

  “I’ve taken you to all of Detroit’s finest restaurants and never have I seen you react like that.”

  “There’s nothing better than a wiener cooked over an open fire…well, except for a steak—”

  “With grilled onions?”

  “Yeah. And lots of steak sauce. Oh, and a baked potato with the works.”

  “You’re making me hungry,” he teased.

  She grinned and stuffed the rest of the hot dog into his mouth. “Then eat.” His cheeks ballooned out as he accepted hot dog, bun and condiments and chewed. A smudge of ketchup clung to his lower lip and she wiped it away with her thumb. “Full now?” she asked between giggles.

  His answer was a jumbled mumble.

  “What was that?” She couldn’t stop giggling. Being with this man made her feel so alive…and carefree…and wonderful. She hadn’t felt like this since she was a kid. She wanted to skip, to jump, to shout with glee.

  He swallowed. “Not
quite. Do you want to get something else to eat?”

  “Maybe in a bit. I don’t want to leave yet. Can we stay a little longer?”

  “Sure.”

  She moved from her perch on the log to the ground in front of him so she could lean back against his chest. He wrapped the blanket around them both, and warm and content, she gazed up at the sky. “Have you ever made a wish on a star?”

  “Nope.”

  “Never? Not even when you were a little boy?”

  “Heck no. I was raised not to believe in that silly stuff. Magic, wishes, dreams. My old man always said that kind of thing was for losers, guys who couldn’t make things happen for themselves. He said you could either waste time dreaming about life or you could do something.” He smoothed her hair away from her forehead with a broad palm.

  Appreciating how a spoiled kitten might feel, and wishing she was capable of purring, she sighed. “He sounds tough. I don’t think I’d want to be raised by a man who was so hard-hearted. And I know I wouldn’t want to be married to one.”

  “He was one hell of an example, though. He knew how to take the most miserably failing company into the black. Hard worker, loyal, brilliant.”

  “I think there’s a middle ground in there somewhere. Dreaming is good if you eventually stop thinking and start doing. Right?”

  “Maybe. Dad might not have known how to be mushy, but he loved us the only way he knew how. He provided the best life he could.” Jason gathered her hair into a ponytail then wrapped it around his hand.

  “Us?” she asked, enjoying the slight sting on her scalp as he pulled slightly.

  “Yeah. I‘ve never told you this. I have a younger brother.”

  “Really? Why’d you keep him a secret all this time? Is he a wanted felon or something?” She reached both arms up and back over her head. Her hands stroked either side of his nylon ski jacket.

  “No, nothing like that. He’s a great guy. Lives in France. I never see him. He never sees me. We’re very different.”

  “What about your mother? What’s she like?”

  “I swear I told you. She died…in childbirth,” he said in a low voice. “I honestly don’t remember much about her. Though Dad says she was the best mother a boy could have. Of course, knowing him, even if she’d been the worst mother in the world, he’d say that.”