Free Identity Crisis by Grace Marshall

way that made him think she was expecting to find something, something he was hiding. But just when he was beginning to feel defensive, she shoved her iPad back into her bag and stood.
    ‘All right then. That’s all I need today.’
    ‘Wait a minute,’ he said, following her to the door. ‘Don’t we need to – I don’t know – practice? I mean, I barely know you and you said we need to be comfortable with each other.’
    She turned so quickly he nearly ran into her. ‘You don’t have to be comfortable with Kendra Davis, Garrett. You have to be comfortable with Tess Delaney, and I promise you will be.’ She looked up at him with a smile that might have been teasing, might have been a smirk. Whichever it was, the small alcove where they now stood suddenly seemed even tighter fitting than it actually was. ‘If it’ll help,’ she said, ‘you can kiss me goodbye.’
    ‘That’s not very professional,’ he managed, feeling like the breath had been squeezed out of him as he fumbled to help her into her jacket.
    Her smile was warm, reassuring. ‘Actually, in our case it’s very professional.’ She rose on her toes and brushed a kiss across his lips. ‘Very professional indeed.’
    And before she could pull away he scooped her into his arms, feeling her little gasp of surprise as he took her mouth. What had only been intended to show her he was up for it very quickly changed to something else, and suddenly they were clawing at each other, hands grabbing collars and hair and anything else to get closer. Clothing brushed against clothing until friction mounted and body heat radiated through. And God, her mouth was sweeter than anything, full lips so soft one second and so hard and demanding the next, parted to allow him access to her tongue and her hard palate, to her humid breath coming faster and faster as her fist clenched in his hair and her own tongue battled for supremacy. And her body, Jesus, her body was hard-pressed and tight and mounded and undulating and he’d never felt so much fire just beneath the surface.
    But she was Kendra Davis. And just when he was ready to scoop her up and carry her off to his bedroom, just when he was ready to hold her captive there for the next three or four or more hours, she stepped back with a little sigh and caught her breath. She raised a hand to her lips, almost but not quite covering her teasing smile and said. ‘You get an A-plus for practice, Garrett Thorne. You just convinced the hell out of me.’ Still breathing hard, she ran a hand through his hair, brushed a quick kiss across his lips, and let herself out, leaving him leaning against the wall, barely able to stand. For the very first time, he allowed himself to think that not only might they be able to pull this whole charade off, but he might actually enjoy it.
    Kendra fled Garrett’s house, mentally kicking herself. Why the hell did she kiss him? Could she be any more stupid? Yes, they might have to kiss each other, and yes, they might have to hold each other like they couldn’t get enough of each other. But that was for Friday night. That was for the Golden Kiss Awards. That wasn’t for this afternoon. That wasn’t for the privacy of Garrett’s house. What the fuck was she thinking? She didn’t even like the man. This was her job, nothing more.
    She shoved her way into the Mustang and barely managed the seatbelt with her trembling hands. But she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and forced herself to drive around the block out of Garrett’s site before she stopped, threw on the emergency brake, and laid her head against the steering wheel, struggling to catch her breath, struggling to calm herself, struggling not to think about how badly she’d wanted to stay, how badly she’d wanted to escalate things even further. If he’d started it, she would have slapped his face or maybe kneed him in the balls. But she had started it. Her! What the fuck was the matter with her?
    She fumbled in her