Taken Identity Read Online Free

Late twenties? Don’t be offended if I’ve got that bit wrong, men are notorious for aging a woman.”
    “You can say that again, but you’re right this time.”
    “Phew.” He wiped his finger over his brow in a parody of a relieved man. “Nevertheless, that’s where the similarity ends. Please, I intend no offense, but my Julia Frayne would never wear clothes like you are. No long, casual, tiered skirt or, er…” He trailed off, obviously not wanting to insult her.
    Jules grinned with amusement. She knew she would never be held up as an advocate for sartorial elegance and it didn’t faze her one jot. She held her arms up so the baggy sleeves of her jumper hung down like wings.
    “Don’t worry. I know my dress sense is—shall we say—individual? This jumper is an old and trusted friend.” She ran her hand over the wool. In shades of red and pink, it should have clashed with her hair but didn’t. However, Jules would be the first to admit it wouldn’t win any prizes for smartness. The elbows were stretched, the hem uneven and the neckline askew. She loved it anyway. Her gran had knitted it during one of her earth mother phases.
    “Hmm, well, as for my wife… Only the latest designer wear was acceptable to her. Her hair was brighter and darker than yours. More russet than, er, than…”
    “Carrots?” Jules supplied helpfully.
    Gray laughed. “You said it, not me. And, I’ll bet my last pound that your hair color is natural.”
    Jules felt herself blush, the same color as that dreaded hair. “Who on earth would chose this?”
    He smiled. “I like it.”
    “It’s red.” Very, very red, and there was nothing she would do to change it. A disastrous, ‘I’m going to go blonde’ whim at eighteen had proven that.
    “True, but natural. That’s something my Julia’s wasn’t.”
    “How do you know? Oh.” Her cheeks felt even hotter. I bet I’m red all over now, she thought in despair. Bloody embarrassment indicator.
    “Exactly.” His tone was dry. “ Hair dye isn’t always used everywhere.Shall we take this coffee somewhere more comfortable? I rather liked that sofa we were ensconced in earlier.”
    Take charge, why don’t you? Trust him to want to sit there. It pushes him rather too close to me . Jules smiled, somewhat falsely, as she clenched her clit, and wondered if he knew just how much he turned her on. Oh, God, she hoped not. It would be mortifying if he discovered how damp her knickers were. Still, she nodded and stood up as, ever the gentleman, he let her lead the way back into the lounge.
    The sun shone fully through the window now, the earlier lack of warmth replaced by Scottish midday heat.
    Jules opened the French windows to let the fresh air in and to help cool her overheated body. No way was she stripping back down to the strappy vest she still had on under her jumper. She hadn’t put a bra on and Gray Reynard would soon see all too easily the effect he had on her. There was no way she could spend all day with her arms crossed over her chest and hiding the evidence of her arousal.
    “I married Julia Frances Frayne just over two years ago in the Caribbean,” Gray said, as they both sat down. His long legs seemed to take up most of the floor space, and Jules became dry mouthed at the way the denim over his lower limbs clung to him like a second skin. She stared at his feet, his thighs then his face, but nowhere in between. Please, God, don’t let me get an eye full. Or do I mean please, God, do?
    The settee did its usual job of trying to meld two bodies into one. Jules inched back up the seat away from him—there was friendly and there was friendly , and she didn’t want him to get the wrong idea.
    Even though, in any other circumstances she’d happily jump his bones, sadly here or now, wasn’t one of those. She moved away from his leg and toward the side of the settee, and resigned herself to feeling hot and bothered.
    “We met in London, where we both worked,” her