Unmistaken Identity Read online

  “Oh god, Wes.”

  His shoulders went rigid before he pumped harder and it dawned on her, it was the first time she’d called out his real name during sex.

  She crested and clutched his shoulders. “Yes!”

  He growled her name.

  His hot release spilled inside of her.

  She gasped and her eyes flew open wide. His did the same.

  He looked down to where they were connected and panic raced through his expression. Hers probably matched.

  “You poison my thinking.”

  If real venom formed his words, she’d be more hurt than she was. But she’d been thinking the same about him.

  “I’m sure it’s fine. Wrong time of the month.”

  The doubt on his face was more hurtful than saying she was poisonous.

  She sighed and scooted back. “I can notify your office when I get my period.”

  More than a little bitterness touched those words.

  He pulled out and stuffed himself back in his pants. She wiggled to the side to rearrange her leggings and pull them up, but he stepped with her.

  Craning his neck over his shoulder, he swore. Her eyes flew wide. Anyone driving by had gotten a good show. It was night outside and while she only had one row of her fluorescent lights on, it was enough to spotlight them.

  Surprisingly, he helped her get her foot into her pants and lifted her down so she could roll them up.

  “Thanks,” she mumbled.

  “This doesn’t change anything,” he said roughly.

  “Didn’t think it did.” She couldn’t meet his gaze as she handed him the keys.

  She left him standing at the counter while she hefted the last box and walked out the door for the last time.

  ***

  Helen listed dates and times.

  A week had passed since that Saturday night with Mara on the counter. No protection. He’d never gone without protection.

  It’d been glorious. She’d been all wet heat and her orgasm over his naked flesh was the best he’d ever experienced.

  “Sir?”

  “Say again.” Might as well not pretend he was listening.

  “Our legal team worked with the city and the permits are in order. Our demolition date has not changed.”

  “Fabulous.” No one could argue that an upgrade was in order, but…he’d have a hard time watching it demolished.

  “We finished our investigation on Mara Baranski.”

  He cut a look over his shoulder. “Just leave it on the desk.”

  The thin file was set down without being opened.

  “Was there anything more?” he asked quietly.

  “Not really. No prom pictures or news clips. William Kostopoulos was her grandfather. I included financial data for Golden Meadows. I couldn’t get ahold of her mom’s medical records, obviously, but I printed off some information on multiple sclerosis.”

  So had he. Wendy Baranski’s prognosis was grim.

  Helen efficiently packed her materials. “Franklin should be here in fifteen minutes. Is there anything else you need?”

  “Have a good night, Helen.”

  He didn’t look through the folder. He knew how much a year at Golden Meadows cost. Had done the calculations. The trust fund wouldn’t last long and that was if Mara didn’t use any of it for her own living expenses.

  He rubbed his chest. Kicking her out of the club that night nearly two months ago would’ve been best.

  Could an old man really be BFFs with a twenty-five-year-old woman?

  She’d compared Wes to his mother.

  On cue, his phone rang.

  “What, Mom?”

  “Is that how you address the woman who birthed you?”

  When she’s only interested in money, yes. “Are you calling to check on how I’m doing, like a real mom?”

  “I know you’re doing fine, Wesley. You’re my son.”

  His mouth quirked. Good one. “Mom, was Sam ever…did he go after younger women?”

  “Sam never left work long enough to chase women. But he was a man. I’m sure he would’ve liked them young.”

  Didn’t answer his question.

  “What brought that question on? Prospective siblings coming out of the woodwork now that news of his fortune going to you is out?” She chortled. “Little do they know— Well, you should have paternity done before anything.”

  Little did they know what? “No. I just don’t know why he’d cut me off after the divorce but leave everything to me.”

  His mom went quiet. Unusual for her. He waited for the derogatory dig about his father, but nothing.

  “He couldn’t get over his bitterness, Wes. It’s not your fault.”

  Color him shocked that his mother had said something halfway meant to comfort him. She’d always blown it off as Sam’s reaction to the divorce and taking it out on Wes. This was the first time he’d believed her.

  “Did you hear about the cold front coming through?” his mom continued. “We might get snow and it’s not even December. Have you thought more on the villa?”

  “If you want to do it, go for it.” With your own money.

  “You know I can’t afford it. Wesley, the winters are harder and harder for me to get through.”

  Wow. She actually sounded serious.

  “And since you never invite me over and never meet me out, I might as well not stay in Minnesota.”

  Someone knocked on the door. Probably Franklin.

  “All right, Mom. I’ve gotta go. Why don’t you stop by sometime this weekend and we’ll talk.”

  He barely got her off the phone without hanging up on her, but not even he hung up on his mom.

  “Come on in, Franklin.”

  Sam’s old assistant scurried in. “Good news, Mr. Robson. Johnson, Harwood, and Crest dropped their suit against Robson Industries.”

  “What?”

  Franklin’s gray brows shot up. Wes hadn’t sounded happy. Admittedly, his first thought was that he wouldn’t see Mara again. She’d be at the proceedings—he’d hoped.

  “It’s over,” Franklin echoed his thoughts. “We must, however, discuss New York.”

  Wes listened in a daze, giving a grunt to affirm Franklin’s actions. Combined with Helen’s earlier news about the city, the dropped lawsuit finalized the last business he had with Mara Baranski.

  It was over.

  Chapter Twenty

  Mara clasped her sweaty palms. She was perspiring in her new business suit, and dang it, it was dry clean only. TGIF, though.

  Enduring her third interview of the week, she smiled politely and answered every question as confidently as possible. No job history as an executive assistant, but she still had experience.

  A glance out the window gave her the view of another twenty-floor office building with a face of glass. So city, so refined. She’d grown up here, but downtown Minneapolis was nothing like the little area she’d lived in.

  “You owned your own business?” the woman from the three-person interview panel asked.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Mara coveted the woman’s bottle of water.

  The young man who had to be close to her age asked the next question. “Going from running your place, to helping someone else run a business…”

  She hated explaining her work history. Technically, her business hadn’t failed. She’d formed a succinct answer early on, lest they think she’d run it into the ground. “I leased space in a building owned by Robson Industries, and when his son took over, he had other plans for the property.”

  The older woman popped her head up from Mara’s papers. “Is that the lot by Mr. Robson’s office tower?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She smiled. “What a coincidence. Mr. Robson owns this building, as well.”

  Mara’s smile drooped.

  One of the men snorted. “Give him enough time and he’ll own half the city.”

  The interview wrapped up after several more questions and too many “I don�
�t have the answer, but I’ll make sure I find out” answers.

  Mara drove home, numb from yet another interview pointing out her lack of experience and college degree.

  She was sadly underqualified for every job she’d interviewed for. Hard work and ambition only went so far. Desperation was pushing out the worry of working for another man who’d take advantage of her.

  As soon as she changed into pajamas, she jumped online to research who owned all of the buildings where the companies she’d met with were located. Two out of three.

  What if they hired her and Wes found out? Then she’d have to apply at places who were Robson-independent.

  Two more meetings set up next week. One was in the same building as another place she’d been in. Owned by Robson Industries.

  Was she going to be screening every possible employment opportunity?

  Ridiculous. She was an adult and so was he.

  Could she blame him, really? He didn’t trust her over Sam, and then she’d made herself a nuisance with the help of Chris and Ephraim. It was over and done—and he held all the power. She refused to cower in the shadow of Wes Robson and let it affect her ability to get a damn job. So she knew who he was. They’d had a relationship. She could talk to him like an adult and he could suck it up. But at least she’d know if she had any limitations in regards to job hunting.

  She checked the time. Friday night. Would he be at Canon?

  Talking herself out of it wasn’t worth the stress during job hunting. She changed into the same outfit she’d worn that first night and with another round of sweaty palms, she drove to Canon.

  The same bouncer stood guard and she received a more appreciative look than last time. Must be the hair. It was still pinned up in a French bun and as she passed a mirrored column, her new highlights gleamed under the marquis lights.

  Like last time, she went straight to the bar. Same bartender. Could this night get any more déjà vu?

  “What’ll you have?” He set a coaster in front of her.

  “I’ll have the rapper’s wine and I need to talk to Wes.”

  He rewarded her courage with a bored blink. “He’s not here. I’ll get your drink.”

  As he poured her wine, he got on the phone.

  Yes. Wes was at the club.

  ***

  After meeting with Franklin, Wes had headed to Canon, but since he’d been doing nothing but working, he had nothing to do.

  Playing Plants vs. Zombies on a Friday night was exactly what most twenty-eight year olds did. Flynn interrupted his game with a message that he’d be here soon with dinner because Wes was under orders not to “fuck around” until “he had his sad-sack shit together.”

  The bartender called. “A hot chick wants to talk to you.”

  Wes rolled his eyes. “Is it the desperate blonde again?”

  “This one’s fine. Better quality than the wine she ordered.”

  Wes hung up and stared at the door. Could it be?

  When he’d met her, she’d joked about what she was drinking.

  With slow precision, he opened his door and walked down the dark hallway to the entrance to the main area.

  He stepped out, but the mirrored pillars scattered throughout the place blocked his view. Patrons moved out of his way; he noticed no one. His gaze swept the bar and he saved the seat he’d first seen her in for last.

  The breath whooshed out of his lungs. Her beauty had struck him down before, but the sophisticated lady perched on the barstool, with a hairdo that bared her slender neck, was a work of art.

  No more makeup enhanced her features than before. The outfit was the same and while it highlighted all her curves, he preferred her Batman leggings.

  “Mara.” He came to a stop behind her, not sitting like before because look how that had turned out.

  She slowly twisted with a hesitant smile. “Can we talk?”

  “About what?”

  Her gaze fell from him and she scanned the people around them. She opened her mouth to talk. No, he craved privacy with her.

  “Come with me.” He turned, knowing he was fueling staff gossip; they’d talk about the lady he’d brought back to his office.

  Once they were behind a closed door, he wondered how she saw the first private environment of his she’d been in. Modern, sleek, stark, and barren. No personal touches.

  No different than his public spaces, like his plane, which certainly hadn’t impressed her.

  To put space between them, he went around his desk and took a seat. She sat on the edge of the chair Flynn usually used.

  “How’s job hunting going?”

  She grimaced. “I’m here to discuss it.”

  A fifty-pound weight settled on his chest. She was here to use him.

  “I’ve been interviewing and it was pointed out to me that you own a few of the buildings where I was meeting possible employers. I want to know if that’ll be a problem.”

  The weight lifted.

  She held her hand up. “Before you answer, I’m not saying this to sway you, but I want to apologize. I shouldn’t have tried to cause problems and delays for you. It was an immature move. With the…history…between us, I want to know beforehand if I should pursue businesses that are free and clear of you.”

  “It won’t be a problem.” His guilt flared. She was out of work because of him. “I can call and put in a good word for you.”

  “Yeah, no. You don’t know the first thing about how well I perform at work.” She spiked an adorable blush as she said “perform.” “And that is the last thing I’d ask of you.”

  They fell quiet for a few moments.

  “How’s Wendy?”

  “Mom’s stable.”

  “Did you tell her—about everything?”

  Mara shook her head. “Stress isn’t good for Mom. I gave her the general overview. Funny, because it helped me form a canned response when I’m asked during interviews. I haven’t told her we quit seeing each other yet, but I will on my Sunday visit.”

  So when Wes suddenly felt like a pile of shit on Sunday, he’d know the reason why. Wendy learning of his deception didn’t sit well with him. “What kind of work are you looking for?”

  “Anything. I might pick up a waitressing job while waiting for a higher-paying company with better benefits to hire me.”

  With Wes’s luck with Mara, he’d probably bring a date to the place she worked and get seated in her section. Dating again didn’t appeal to him, but now it scared him.

  “Well.” Mara tapped her thighs. “I’d better get going.”

  He made it the other side of his desk by the time she rose. “Look, we don’t have to…”

  Words faded with the hopeless glint in her eyes. “Good-bye, Wes.”

  His feet were cemented to the floor. She rested her hand on the doorknob and stalled. “There is something else I should talk to you about. It’s about Sam.”

  A cold splash of water. “What about him?”

  “We talked, about you, and he never came out and said it, but—”

  The door whipped open. Mara stumbled back, losing her balance in her heels. Two steps and Wes caught her in his arms.

  “I’ve got chow—whoa.” Flynn stared at them, stunned, while holding two trays.

  Mara righted herself and pulled away. “Thank you.”

  “Hey, Flynn. I’ll be right back. I need a minute with Mara.” Wes’s hand on her back felt too right as he ushered her outside of his office. He shut the door behind him. “Can you come to my place tomorrow?”

  Her place was a no, and she’d know why. Too many stupendously erotic memories.

  “That guy’s your friend?” Suspicion dripped from her words.

  Wes wanted to strangle Flynn for his store visit. “I had no idea he planned to stop in and hit on you. He was just looking out for me.”

  She shook her head like she couldn’t believe it. “Meet at your offices downtown?”

  “No, my home.” My cold, barren home.

&n
bsp; Brief hesitation and she nodded. “Text me the address. What time?”

  Whatever she wanted to talk to him about overrode her caution about the two of them alone.

  He got it. Any longer in his office and he’d repeat the on-the-counter move on his desk.

  “Whenever, just let me know.”

  Her hips swayed all the way down the hall, her shoulders held square. She was miles above any girl in his club.

  Dangerous thoughts, when she’d finally decided to come clean about Sam. Like he was looking for any excuse to get close to her again and the betrayal mattered less and less.

  Steeling himself, he returned to his office.

  “You two are talking?” Flynn hadn’t made himself comfortable but stood where he’d been when Wes left.

  “Yep.” And that was all he was telling Flynn that they’d done.

  “You two…”

  “She’s going to talk to me about Sam tomorrow.”

  “Uh-huh.” Flynn set out the food and utensils. No greasy paper bags from his friend. “She’s…classier than last time.”

  “She lost the edge for job hunting.”

  “You sound disappointed.”

  He was.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Mara drove down a long drive with a giant brick mansion capping the end. This was the address he’d sent her. Since his phone number had been seared into her brain, she’d texted him a half hour ago to say she was on her way. Midmorning shouldn’t be too early or too late. She’d rather get this over with.

  She parked and peered over her steering wheel. Glimmering blue behind the house reflected sunlight with its gentle waves.

  He had a lake?

  Back to the mansion. Much larger now that she was out of the car. Like Wes had told his realtor he wanted the biggest, most pretentious place available. And throw in a private body of water.

  She stuffed the small gift she’d brought Wes into her coat pocket. Deciding when she’d give it to him had plagued her the whole drive.