Bad Boy (An Indecent Proposal) - J.C. Reed Page 0,32

annoyed. “And second, I only sent you my detailed biography because you asked me for one.”

“Thank you for that. It’s helped me understand the complexity of your soul.” He tipped his nose with his finger.

My soul?

His charm was working, and it pissed me off.

“Good for you,” I said, my annoyance rising to new heights. “I still have no idea who you are. I’m not even sure why I’m playing along—” I waved my hand around as I struggled to find the right words “—here when I should be thousands of miles away, thanking my lucky stars that it’s all over.”

“Would it help you if you saw some proof of identification?” Chase asked.

Definitely couldn’t hurt.

My breath caught in my throat. “Is that a joke?”

“I’m dead serious.” Not waiting for my reply, he pulled out his wallet from his jean pocket and tossed it to me. It fell straight into my lap. I stared at the beaten, brown leather, then glanced up at him, unsure what to do.

“Come on,” Chase said, watching me. “Take it before you go and accuse me of stealing someone’s identity.”

I let out a laugh. “As if stealing someone’s identity could top stealing someone’s money. It’s just as bad, but definitely not worse.”

His hand touched mine. I pulled back.

“Laurie, I’m not after your money,” he insisted. His anger was palpable in his tone. “Besides, one quarter of your inheritance is not exactly a lot.” My eyes widened at his statement.

Judging from the car he drove and the place he owned, he wasn’t exactly poor.

“Yeah, I read your file. I know the terms of your inheritance, and what you wanted to agree to.” His finger tapped on the wallet. “Come on. Have a look. We’ll be a step closer to where I want us to be after you do.”

He sounded so forceful I couldn’t help but feel hopeful.

My fingers shook as I grabbed the wallet from my lap. As I opened it, my eyes fell on the countless credit cards and then on his driver’s license.

I pulled it out, swallowing down the lump in my throat.

Chase Wright.

Even his date of birth was correct, and the guy in the picture was definitely Chase, albeit a younger version of him.

Confusion washed over me.

I didn’t know what I had expected. That maybe it would all be fake—just like our marriage. I most certainly didn’t expect that he might be telling the truth.

He moved closer to me, his lips almost touching my ear. “Did you really think I would marry you with a fake name? How exactly would that have worked out?”

“I’m not sure.” I turned my head to him and took a sip of my wine, then another until my glass was empty, but the much-desired numbing effect didn’t kick in.

“I was born in Texas, Mulberry, which you already know.” He stashed the driver’s license back in his wallet when he caught my expression of disbelief. “What? Not everything I told you was a lie.”

“Like your acting?”

“I’m not an actor per se,” he said. “But I did act when I was younger.”

“You did?” I couldn’t hold back a snort.

“Mmm. You think I would go to all the trouble of setting up several fake profiles? I don’t have time for that.”

“As a matter of fact, I think you’d do just that, Chase.” His name sounded so right on my lips, I winced. We were married for real. No doubt about that now. The thought both scared and excited me. “In fact, I think you’d go the extra mile to meet me.”

He thought it over for a moment. “I did go through quite a bit to meet you.”

Like committing arson, trapping us in an elevator, and hurting a lot of people.

It was such a long time ago that it all felt like a bad dream.

That minuscule smidgen of despair intermingled with hope was back again.

I opened my mouth to speak when the car stopped and Chase grabbed my hand again, giving it a little squeeze. “We’re here.”

“Where’s here?”

“The shore,” he said the exact moment the driver opened the door. “There’s nothing better than a bit of sunshine, wine, and—” He grinned. “Say it.”

“Crabs.”

“That’s right. Crabs.” He grimaced. “Unless you get the bad kind. Now that makes one’s life kind of bad.”

I turned my head away from him, my lips twitching.

Would it be so bad if I laughed?

Argh.

He was making it so difficult not to like him.

Biting my lip, I chuckled inwardly as I followed him out, inhaling the distinct smell of salt, water, and