MisTAKEN Identities Paranormal Romance

by Allan, Sydney

  “Doctor said it’s a delayed reaction to poison ivy. You wouldn’t happen to know where I came into contact with that, would you?” Monica dragged a spare chair up and positioned herself in it, crossing her long legs and swinging a designer shoe-clad foot. “He said it’s going to take a couple of weeks for the itching and swelling to go away.”

  At the moment, Jenny couldn’t think of a time in her life where she’d been more regretful. “I’m so sorry. I went hiking in the woods this past weekend. It was dark and I couldn’t see… Gosh, I can’t believe you came to work like this.”

  “Yeah. Brings to mind the Elephant Man, doesn’t it?” Monica raised a hand to her grotesquely swollen cheek. “But what else could I do? I can’t afford to miss two whole weeks. You know what my finances look like. By the way, thanks for doing such a nifty job with my checkbook.”

  Jenny slipped her feet out of her pinching shoes. She sure missed those Manolo Blahniks! “No problem.”

  “Seriously, no one’s ever bothered to teach me how to balance my checkbook. I appreciate it. It felt wonderful looking at my caller ID this morning and not seeing a single ‘private call’ or collection agency. I can’t tell you when that’s happened last.”

  “It wasn’t such a big deal.”

  “Maybe not for you.”

  The software finally up and running, Jenny opened a new document and stared at the blank white screen. “You’re welcome. I’m truly sorry about the poison ivy.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll get over it. Say, I wanted to ask you a couple of things.”

  Oh no. She had a sneaking suspicion she wasn’t going to like the questions Monica was about to ask. For one thing, Monica was being mighty understanding about her hideously disfigured face. Was revenge on her agenda? “Oh?”

  “First, would you like to continue to meet every morning to brainstorm our projects like we have been? I really enjoyed that.”

  So far, so good. “Sure. I enjoyed it too.”

  “Excellent!” Monica crossed her arms over her chest. “Second, I was wondering…what’s Jason calling and leaving messages on my answering machine about surprises and last Saturday’s date all about?”

  Uh-oh! “He did?” She tried to look surprised.

  “Yeah, he did.” Monica did not sound so thrilled, not that Jenny could blame her. Jenny could imagine the assumptions she would make if the roles were reversed and she’d returned to find her ex-boyfriend leaving friendly messages on her answering machine if last she recalled they hadn’t been speaking.

  Here goes! “Well, I thought you’d be happy…”

  Monica leaned closer. The blazes igniting in her eyes weren’t reassuring. “What did you do?”

  “I honestly felt I was doing you a favor. I mean, you said you wanted him back, wanted to marry him someday. It started the night he had the car repossessed. I went there to give him a piece of my mind and we started talking…and then we bumped into each other at a nightclub…and next thing I knew it he was asking me—I mean you!—out on a date.”

  “Just tell me, did you—I mean, I—sleep with him?”

  “No. I swear, I would never do that to you.”

  Visibly deep in thought, Monica leaned back and blinked several times. Her left eyelid kind of hung there at half-mast, thanks to the swelling. She nodded. “So what happened?”

  “He said he was falling in love with you all over again,” Jenny answered, hoping that might cast a rosy-colored light on the situation.

  It worked. A hint of a smile bloomed over Monica’s disfigured face. “He did? What else did he say?”

  “He said you’ve changed.”

  Monica scowled. “How have I changed? What did you say to him?”

  “Well…I told him I wanted to get married and have kids. I didn’t know you’d told him you didn’t want those things until after I said it,” Jenny lied.

  “Shit. What else?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I can’t remember all the details. Oh…um…I ate some red meat.” She cringed.

  “You didn’t!”

  “And ice cream. But you have to believe me. Nothing happened with Jason. Our first date was spent in the hospital emergency room, thanks to your allergy to bees, and so all we could do was talk—”

  “I was stung? Where?”

  “Yeah. On your head. But as you can see, you’re fine now. Well, sorta fine. The poison ivy was from your second date. We…er, you…went to the cider mill and a bonfire. Jason seems to be coming round. He brought flowers and said the nicest things.”

  “He’s so sweet, isn’t he?” Monica sighed. “I’m just worried that he isn’t in love with me. It sounds like he’s in love with you.”

  Hearing those words made Jenny’s heart skip more than a beat or two. She attributed her reaction to several things. “No way. He loves you. He’s a guy. He believes what he sees. How could he love someone like me? We look very different.” Jenny knew darn well who she was trying to convince and it wasn’t Monica.

  “In case you haven’t noticed—and I believe you have—he’s a little deeper thinking than your typical shallow-minded guy.”

  I know. He’s perfect. “Still, I’m plain. You’re…stunning. I saw the way he looked at you. There was something—a glimmer—in his eyes, like in the movies. It was very romantic.”

  “Sounds like you’ve fallen in love with him too.”

  “No. Absolutely not.” Jenny said with far more conviction than she felt.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “He’s a cutie. I wouldn’t blame you.”

  “Nope. Through the whole thing I reminded myself he’s your boyfriend, not mine. Like I said, look at me. I don’t compare.”

  “Hey, with the new clothes and hair, I’d call you a babe.”

  “You’re being kind.”

  “I might even be a little jealous of you. I didn’t tell you this but I went to one of my favorite hot spots last weekend and a guy I’ve seen around here and there—a guy who’d never give me the time of day—flirted with you!”

  “He didn’t. You’re lying.”

  “I have his phone number to prove it.” Monica motioned toward Jenny’s purse. “May I?”

  “Sure.” Jenny handed it to her and watched as Monica rummaged through the contents.

  “Aha! Here you go.” Looking quite pleased with herself, Monica produced a business card with a smudgy phone number scribbled on the back. She looked down at it, her fingertips toying with the edges. Her expression was a little forlorn. “His name is Bill and he’s an absolute babe. We talked all night long.” With a smile that looked forced, she handed the card to Jenny. “But this belongs to you now.”

  Jenny shook her head. “No thanks.”

  “Seriously, take it. He’s very sexy. And who would’ve thought a man who works with his hands could be loaded? He drove a Beemer.”

  “Business must be good.”

  “Real good.” Monica tried to hand Jenny the card again. “Even if you don’t want to date him, he’s an electrician. You never know when one of those might come in handy.”

  “I live in an apartment.”

  “So?”

  “You’re the one who has a house.”

  “That doesn’t matter. You have electricity too.”

  Jenny shook her head. “Never mind. Guess you’ve never been a renter before.”

  “I’ve never dated a man who works with his hands before—unless you count the banker. I have to admit, dating a working man holds a certain appeal.”

  Like she could take the card now! Not! “You keep it. Maybe if things don’t work out with Jason you could—”

  “No. I mentioned myself and he said he knew me, thought I was too high-maintenance.” Monica giggled. “Can you just imagine?” She wound a lock of hair around her index finger.

  “Nope.”

  “Me? High-maintenance.”

  “Never.”

  Monica drew the card closer, obviousl
y preparing to tuck it away somewhere safe, a pocket or in her bra maybe. “Are you sure you won’t take it?”

  “Positive.”

  “Okay,” Monica said on a sigh. “You can’t say I didn’t offer.”

  Jenny merely nodded. This was weird. She didn’t have a claim on Jason, who thought she was Monica. She didn’t have a claim on Bill either, who thought she was Jenny, but the Jenny Monica had been, who couldn’t be anything like the Jenny she was now…

  Things couldn’t be any more confusing!

  “But he likes you,” Monica said, still holding the card.

  “It doesn’t feel right for some reason,” Jenny admitted.

  “I know. But neither does me going out with Jason. It isn’t fair if I get both of them.” She giggled. “Listen to me. That sounds silly.”

  “What else can we do?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you still care for Jason?” Jenny asked, hoping Monica would say she honestly didn’t.

  Still, what would that do for her anyway? Jenny wasn’t the tall, skinny bombshell Monica was. What hope did she have that even if given the chance Jason would be able to see past her plain-Jane features?

  “Yes, I do care about him. He’s a very sweet guy. Attractive, giving, caring.”

  That wasn’t what she’d wanted to hear, but that was probably for the better anyway. She nodded and bit her upper lip in an effort to keep it from quivering. “Have a great time tonight.”

  “I’m sorry,” Monica said, standing. “I can tell this is upsetting you.”

  “It’s not your fault. I knew what I was getting into when I decided to get involved. I could’ve stayed out of it and let you work it out later.”

  Monica leaned down, took Jenny’s hand in hers, and gave it a slight squeeze. “I owe you. Big time. Any favor. You name it.”

  Jenny forced a smile, even though her insides felt like they’d been yanked from her body and run over by a Mack truck—no, a whole fleet of Mack trucks. “How about starting right now and helping me with this project? I’m having a hard time coming up with a decent layout.”

  “Fair enough.” Monica sat again and scooted the chair beside Jenny’s. “What do you have so far?”

  “An empty screen?”

  Monica smiled. “Well, that’s a good start.”

  The rest of the day dragged by, and by seven that night, Jenny swore the minutes were lasting at least an hour each. Time had slowed to a snail’s pace.

  Hour after hour she sat alone in her little apartment staring at the TV but not comprehending the images playing on the screen. Her mind was on one thing and refused to budge from it.

  Had Jason called Monica? Were they together now? Were they making love?

  Lying on the couch, she curled into a tight ball and drew the throw up over her shoulders, clutching it tight to her chest. The apartment was dark, except the blue-tinted glow of the TV screen. And silent except for the tinny-toned voices coming from the junky TV’s half-blown speakers.

  “Damn it,” she called into the night. “Why did I have to come back now? I wasn’t ready yet.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Jason flipped open the black velvet-covered box again, to admire the gorgeous platinum setting and even more beautiful brilliant cut five-carat diamond nestled between two half-carat natural rubies on either side. The ring was one of a kind, a true work of art.

  He was proud to be able to present it to Monica. But outside of pride, he felt surprisingly void of emotion. He’d always assumed this moment he’d be an emotional wreck, not his cool, calm self.

  Part of his lack of enthusiasm he attributed to Monica’s seeming reversion to her old self the past few days. While she wasn’t exactly the self-centered, spoiled girl-woman she had been previously, she wasn’t the warm, caring, genuine woman he’d spent the last couple of weekends with either. How could her personality yo-yo back and forth so drastically? Was it hormonal? If so, he could only imagine what she’d be like when she was pregnant.

  But he wasn’t about to let a few doubts hold him back now. He’d made a promise to her Tuesday and by God, he’d live by it. She had greeted him with so much enthusiasm when he’d returned from his most recent trip. She acted like she hadn’t seen him in weeks, made promises he’d never thought he’d hear spoken from her lips and then told him she was ready for marriage and asked if his last proposal was still good.

  What other response could he give?

  It had taken him a few days to see she’d changed again, but he couldn’t break a promise over a little bit of moodiness. She’d said she missed him, needed him, couldn’t stand being without him. What more could he want?

  He stuffed the box in his pocket and knocked on her front door. It was time to make the commitment he’d waited five long years for.

  When Monica answered the door, it was clear she knew exactly what was coming. Her smile was dazzling, her clothing, hair and makeup perfect, exactly the way he’d come to expect. She didn’t wait for him to enter before she lifted her arms and looped them around his neck. Yet her lackluster embrace stirred little response from him, not even mild lust. She brushed her lips over his cheek and he made no effort to make the kiss more intimate.

  Chemistry, or rather lack thereof, did not mean a marriage was doomed.

  “Hello, sweetheart.” She dropped her arms, captured his hands in hers and walked backward into the house, pulling him in with her. “You said you had something to ask me?”

  Knowing he had no reason to delay, he dropped on one knee in the middle of her living room, extracted the box from his pocket, and asked, “Monica Starke, will you marry me?”

  She looked as happy as he’d expect any woman to be as she watched him flip open the box and pluck the diamond ring from it. “Yes, I will.”

  He slid the ring on her finger. It was done.

  * * * * *

  Monica didn’t show up for work for the rest of the week, not only leaving Jenny to wonder what had happened with Jason on Tuesday night but also struggling to complete her projects without the benefit of her brainstorming partner. She did the best she could at work—the results a far cry from spectacular—and nights she made every effort to keep busy. Spending hour upon hour imagining what was happening between Monica and Jason got old after one torturous night. She had pride. Allowing herself to succumb to pointless what-ifs just wasn’t acceptable.

  Instead, she took a second look at her finances and discovered she could finally afford buying a house of her own. Scouring the homes for sale on the Internet was a very potent salve, though it didn’t obliterate the pain of losing Jason completely.

  That Sunday, she even hit a few open houses nearby and found a very personable, down-to-earth real estate agent to work with. Her quest to buy a home was in full gear. Fall wasn’t the best time of year to house shop, with fewer homes on the market. But the ones that were tended to be sold by more motivated sellers, meaning a better opportunity to find a deal.

  Monday morning, she headed to work with spirits lifted and her eye on another raise. Come hell or high water, she’d prove to Mr. Kaufmann that she could deliver!

  Unfortunately, her mood soured shortly after arriving when Monica pulled her into her office and flashed a rock the size of Mt. Everest and a smile so bright it put the sun to shame. The ring was noticeably positioned on her left ring finger.

  “He proposed,” Monica said in an excited voice as she urged Jenny to sit. “And I know what you’re thinking—”

  “What do you think I’m thinking?” Jenny asked as she reluctantly lowered herself onto the chair.

  “That I said I didn’t want to get married.” Monica rounded her desk and took her seat.

  “Right.” Not even close, but that’s okay. “So, what about that itty-bitty, insignificant detail?”

  “Well, I did some soul-searching after Jason popped the question—he did it at my house, couldn’t even wait until we got to our favorite restaurant. It was so romantic.” Monic
a clasped her hands together and closed her eyes, visibly sighing. The sight was a bit sickening but Jenny struggled to maintain a smile. “I got caught up in the moment and without thinking said yes.”

  Thank God, she’s doubting her decision. Shoot, what am I saying? This is what I wanted for her, isn’t it? “So you don’t really want to marry him?”

  Monica nodded enthusiastically. “I think I do. I mean, I spent the rest of the weekend considering it and I have to say I’m excited.”

  “Really?”

  Monica produced a thick wedding magazine from somewhere under her desk and began flipping through the pages. “I’ve never been a sappy romantic, but a fancy wedding with all the best—caterers, photographers, a wedding planner—sounds really fun. I’m thinking of doing a theme wedding, maybe getting married New Year’s Eve. Wouldn’t that be a riot? Look here.” She held up the magazine and pointed at a page of wedding attendees dressed in black, white and silver.

  “An absolute gas,” Jenny said dryly.

  Monica set the magazine down and gazed directly into Jenny’s eyes. “And I want you to be my maid of honor.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Oh no. If it wasn’t for you, Jason would still hate me for giving away his grandmother’s old junk.”

  It wasn’t junk. Jenny had to avert her gaze. Monica’s direct eye contact was making her very uncomfortable. She reached across the desk and pulled the magazine closer, staring blindly at the open page. “Don’t you have a sister or an old friend from college you should ask instead? I mean, shouldn’t your maid of honor be someone special you’ve known for a long, long time? A lot longer than we’ve known each other?”

  “Nope. Besides, we have known each other long, since high school.”

  “I had no idea you’d noticed me back then.”

  “I didn’t but I take your word for it. Who cares how long it’s been! You deserve this honor. Please say yes!” She stood and reached across the desk, clasping Jenny’s hand between hers, forcing Jenny to look up. “Pretty please?”

  Jenny wiggled her fingers, pulling her hand free from Monica’s tight grasp. “I don’t know. I’ve never been a maid of honor before. Doesn’t it require a lot of work?”