Nothing to Hide

by Isabel Sharpe

  All of the gowns had matching shoes! Allie was ready to weep with happiness.

  Of course not everything was in perfect shape. Some colors had faded, some spots had developed, the thinnest fabrics were disintegrating here and there.

  Even so, Allie felt as if she’d stepped into the dressing room on the set of an Edith Head movie. Imagine having so much finery stashed in the attic of a summer house! Maybe the clothes were all transferred here when Bridget’s year-round house was sold. Maybe she had a whole other wardrobe somewhere else.

  It boggled the mind.

  The only disappointment was that the clothes were too large to fit her. Erik and Jonas’s grandmother must have been a tall, imposing woman. Allie would have to ask to see pictures. Maybe they had shots of her wearing some of the outfits.

  She stretched, thinking she should go down for lunch soon, or at least get a glass of water. It was heating up as the sun climbed overhead. She should plan to do her work here in the early mornings.

  Or...evenings. Because the early mornings might be her and Jonas’s time to cheat on Erik and Sandra.

  She rolled her eyes at her own crush-induced idiocy and moved toward the exit, passing an older emerald-green trunk covered with labels of ocean liners and hotels from all over Europe. Was this Great-Grandma Josephine’s? What a life she must have led. The Roaring Twenties...

  A glance at Allie’s watch showed almost noon. Her stomach was growling, but she couldn’t leave without a peek inside the trunk, at least. She lifted the lock and undid the clasps, spreading the sides of the trunk to reveal four drawers occupying one half and another bonanza of clothing hung on the other.

  She dived in.

  Dresses, hats, gloves, costume jewelry, underwear. All from the twenties and thirties. Beaded velvet, green chiffon, elaborate black lace overlays, all wearable, or nearly wearable, after the better part of a century. There must be magic air in this attic.

  And lingerie, oh my goodness. Teddies, sheer white nightgowns, tap pants and camisoles, lacy tops, embroidered slips. Best of all, it looked as if Josephine had been much closer to Allie’s size than Bridget. She should probably try on some of these things.

  As she riffled eagerly through the drawer, she noticed slips of paper pinned to some of the items. On each slip of paper was a neatly handwritten number. Had the clothes been cataloged somewhere? For an exhibit maybe? She checked the dresses and other items for similar markings. Nothing. Just the lingerie had been tagged, and one nightgown, number thirty-five. Thirty-five out of what? Josephine’s thirty-fifth nightgown? But then where were one through thirty-four? Maybe she could ask Jonas and Erik about the numbers, though most people didn’t know a whole lot about their extended relatives’ underwear.

  She unfolded nightgown number thirty-five—an impossibly beautiful garment of white cotton batiste, sheer as a veil—and held it up to her body. Intricate floral vines were embroidered in white thread up and down the gown’s mid-calf length. Delicate white lace trimmed the hem and sleeves. Tiny silk rosebuds bloomed on the bodice, and silk ribbons tied at each shoulder.

  Allie had never seen anything so lovely.

  A quick look at the attic trapdoor showed no one. She’d change standing behind the trunk for privacy. Erik had said the clothes were hers, that his mother wanted to get rid of them. It should be fine to try them on.

  Nervous and excited, she pulled down her shorts and stripped off her bra and shirt, then carefully pulled the delicate fabric over her head. Thank goodness the threads held—she’d been half-afraid of tearing the garment just by picking it up.

  It fit her perfectly. The three-quarter sleeves were narrow, connected to the garment only under the arm, their lacy hem circling her biceps and leaving her shoulders bare. Silk ribbons tied on either side of her neck. Who had seen Josephine in this? Had he untied the ribbons and let it slide down to expose her body?

  Allie glanced at the huge heavy-framed mirror leaning against the opposite wall and couldn’t resist. Walking carefully, so as not to snag the material on the corner of a trunk or box, she made her way toward the glass, feeling like a siren from the past.

  The nightgown looked as if it had been made for her. Her slight tan set off the sheer white and pink beautifully, her eyes shone under her bangs, ruffling in the fan breeze, and for once her plain blond hair didn’t seem drab, though she really needed a bob with a Marcel wave and matching rosebuds pinned at her temple. Maybe embroidered slippers.

  The only jarring note was the decidedly modern lines of her white bikini underwear. She stepped out of them, imagining that the fabric gave off the faintest smell of rose petals when she moved.

  Entranced, she stood at the mirror, imagining Josephine, her life, her loves. Erik said she had five children, a husband who was a writer, and that she was a “party animal.” Did her husband buy her such beautiful things and plead with her to model them? Did Josephine buy them herself and surprise him? Did she own any of them before she was married? Did any other men see them on her? How many?

  Allie ran her hands up and down the soft sheer material, thinking she should go down to lunch before someone missed her and came calling.

  She turned from the mirror and was about to bend over to pick up her panties when she stopped dead.

  Jonas was sticking his head through the trapdoor, looking as if he’d seen...a naked woman. He had that look all men get, that sort of glazed tongue-hanging-out thing.

  She was about to panic, duck down or try to cover herself when calm descended over her. Okay. He’d seen her body. Nakedness was not a disease, nor was it evil. And heaven knew she’d been fantasizing pretty much nonstop about showing hers to him. She could act as if this was a terrible, embarrassing mistake.

  Or go with it.

  “Hey, Jonas. What’s up?”

  “I’m...I’d...I came up to—” He gave up and stood there, looking her up and down.

  “Isn’t this beautiful?” She gestured to the gown. “It’s one of your great-grandmother’s nightgowns. I couldn’t resist trying it on.”

  “It’s beautiful, Allie.” Apparently he’d found his voice. And he no longer looked as if he’d swallowed a gnat. In fact his eyes were heating up to a dark blue smolder. “And you look amazing in it.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled as if he’d complimented her on a new backpack. “Lunch happening any time soon?”

  “Yes, it’s ready. I came up to tell you...” His look clearly finished the sentence. And I got a lot more than I bargained for.

  “Great. I’ll be down as soon as I change. I’m starving after our ride this morning.”

  “Funny. I didn’t realize how hungry I was.” He gave the nightgown another slow, thorough perusal. “Until now.”

  6

  JONAS STRODE UP the stairs of the main house and knocked gently on Sandra’s door, hoping she wasn’t taking a nap. He needed to talk to her.

  “Yeah, who is it?”

  “Jonas.”

  “Jonas, my darling, come in.”

  He pushed open the door cautiously, hoping his notoriously immodest friend wasn’t half-dressed. He and Sandra kept few secrets from each other, but he’d seen the only naked body he wanted to see right before lunch, and life would just get out-of-control confusing if he was faced with another one so soon after.

  Sandra was standing by the window, looking fabulously sexy in a black-and-white bikini. Sort of naked, but Jonas could handle it. He gave a whistle and leered inappropriately, knowing she wouldn’t take him seriously. “Oh baby, my fire is lit.”

  “Yeah, snuff it. What’s on your mind?” She grabbed a beach towel from the bed and slipped her feet into flip-flops. “As if I didn’t know.”

  “You do, huh?” He put his hands on his hips, figuring she probably did. Tension at lunch had been thick enough to strangle most conversation. Sandra had saved them, chatting easily, while undoubtedly missing nothing. “I’m going on a hike, want to come with me?”

  Sandra snorted and gav
e him a look as if he’d just suggested lava-surfing. “Take a guess.”

  “A walk, then. Easy.”

  She gestured to her outfit, or near lack thereof. “Listen, honey, it’s eighty degrees and the sun is shining. This body is moving only to turn over to bake its other side. Possibly to enter the lake to cool off. Then repeat. This is what bodies are made to do in the summertime at the beach. Got it?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He grinned at her. “Okay if I join you?”

  She pretended to consider. “Will you rub suntan lotion on my back and fetch iced tea when I require it?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Okay. Let’s go.” She started toward him, wrapping the towel around her waist. “I take it you need to talk?”

  “Might be a good idea.”

  “For everyone up here.” As they fell into step she gave his arm a sympathetic squeeze. “Don’t worry, I’ll be the easiest. Go put on a suit, I’ll meet you at the beach.”

  He changed into his bathing suit and joined Sandra, settling beside her near the water. She had a point about the beach today. The temperature was perfect, the sun’s heat tempered by a steady breeze that also kept away insects.

  “First, my lover.” She held out the lotion. “We must always use protection.”

  He spread the cream onto her back, keeping his touch impersonal without any effort. His head was so full of Allie that he wasn’t tuned into Sandra’s body the way he usually was. It was quite a body, too―narrow waist, flat stomach, full breasts and curving hips. A real woman’s body, one he’d enjoyed a lot. But the sight of Allie, hazel eyes shining, cheeks flushed, standing proudly, her nakedness barely hidden by material so transparent it didn’t seem possible it could hold together, had taken over his brain in an all-out assault. The combination of sexuality and sweetness had nearly undone him. He had no idea how he’d managed to get through lunch.

  Luckily, his brain had enough sense left in it to realize that if he wanted her...no, that wasn’t the question. He wanted her so badly he’d been half-erect for the last two hours. But before he acted, there were two people he cared about deeply who’d need to be okay with him and Allie getting together.

  “So.” He took off his shirt and started spreading lotion on himself. “Talk time.”

  “Yes, it’s okay with me if you and Allie screw like possessed bunnies.” She lay back on her towel and exhaled blissfully. “God, it’s fabulous out. Why in hell haven’t you brought me up here before this?”

  He recovered from his surprise. “That’s it?”

  “What’s it?”

  “Come on, Sandra.”

  “What do you want me to say? No, no, please don’t be with her, I couldn’t bear it, my heart would shatter into a million—”

  “Sure, why not?” As usual she’d nailed him. Sandra didn’t tolerate male ego. Or female, but that didn’t apply to him so he didn’t care. Since that intolerance was one of the things he respected about her, he’d better not get pissed off about it now that it was directed at him.

  “Dream on.” She reached over and smacked his arm. “You know how I feel about you. I adore you. And I know we both talked about things working out ultimately between us. But in the meantime, we both have full license to try to find someone more suitable. So you need to do what you need to do.”

  “It won’t bother you?”

  She turned to him, lowering her sunglasses and peering at him over their bright red frames. “Would it bother you if our situations were reversed and you thought I had a real chance to be happy?”

  He narrowed his eyes, turning that one over, remembering her face inches from Erik’s. “Well...no. But I wouldn’t want to watch.”

  “Exactly.” Sandra pushed her glasses back up. “I will not suffer, I promise you that. Your happiness is important to me. And Allie seems fabulous. Okay? Are we good now?”

  He leaned over and kissed her cocoa-buttery cheek. “We are good.”

  “Next item.”

  “Yeah.” Jonas settled back onto the sand. “Erik.”

  “Mmm, you leave him to me.”

  He gave a startled laugh. “What do you mean?”

  “I have plans for Erik.”

  A queasy feeling started in Jonas’s stomach. “What kind of plans?”

  “Plans that will make him forget he ever wanted your Allie.”

  He felt a sting of jealousy. “Jeez, Sandra, you’re going to sleep with my brother?”

  “No one’s asking you to watch.” She repositioned her head, smiling smugly. “Maybe yes, maybe no. But I’m definitely going to make him desperate to sleep with me.”

  “How are you going to—” He shook his head, trying to process the concept of Sandra going after his brother. “Never mind, I don’t want to know.”

  “Smart boy.”

  “But I do want to know one thing.”

  “Mmm?” She turned her face more directly toward the sun.

  “Why are you doing this? So I can be with Allie?”

  “Ha!” Her brows drew down disdainfully. “Do I look like Pollyanna?”

  “Uh, no, that’s why I’m asking.”

  “It’s a chick thing,” she said primly.

  Jonas made a growling sound. “Meaning I wouldn’t understand because I have male equipment.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Which means whatever it is, it makes no sense.”

  “Not to you, no.”

  “Okay, okay, have your private babe club. I still have to talk to Erik, though.” He brightened. “Hey, if he gives up on Allie willingly, you won’t have to torment him on my account.”

  “Yes, I will.” She stretched her soft arms above her head and let them drop. “But you wouldn’t understand that, either.”

  “I’m sure I wouldn’t.” He rolled his eyes, wondering if on some weird level, Sandra actually liked his brother. Was that possible? He didn’t see why not. Guys a lot more horrible than Erik had been happily paired off. Erik just needed grounding. And to grow up a little. Maybe Sandra could make that happen. Jonas wouldn’t put anything past her.

  He spent another half hour enjoying the sun until he heard Erik’s car returning from town where he’d taken Allie to buy groceries. If Allie disappeared back up into the attic, Jonas would get the chance to talk to Erik alone.

  Allie’s laugh floated down from the parking area. His heart beating faster, Jonas got up and walked toward them, pulling his shirt back on. “Need help?”

  “Nah, we’re fine.” His brother wasn’t overtly hostile, but Jonas could sense his annoyance. You grew up with someone, you got pretty good at reading him.

  “If you want to get back to the attic, Allie, I can help Erik unload.”

  “Oh, I don’t mind helping.” She glanced uncertainly at Erik, looking as girlish in her crazy peacock shorts as she had looked womanly in the lingerie upstairs.

  “Go on.” Jonas went to take the groceries from her, gave her a quick nod and tipped his head pointedly toward Erik, hoping she’d understand.

  She gave a quick nod back and released the bag. “If you’re sure, I’d love to get back up there. I have a mystery to solve.”

  “Really.” He had to make himself move toward the house or he would have stood there gazing at her like a fool. “What kind of mystery?”

  “In one of your great-grandmother’s trunks some of the clothes have tags with numbers on them.”

  Erik looked disappointed. “That’s your mystery?”

  “I was hoping for a treasure map,” Jonas said.

  “Men.” Allie laughed and held the door open for him and Erik, then left them to unload the groceries in the kitchen and hurried upstairs.

  “So, Erik.” Jonas pulled out a bag of sweet-corn ears and laid it on the counter. “Looks like we have a complicated situation here.”

  “Yeah?” Erik put away a couple of fabulous-looking steaks, not meeting his brother’s eye, his jaw set.

  Jonas gritted his teeth. He wasn’t going to make this
easy. “With you and me, Sandra and Allie.”

  “How so?”

  “Cut the crap. We need to talk about this.”

  “I don’t have anything I need to talk about. If you have a problem, feel free to tell me what it is.”

  Jonas took out a couple of bottles of sparkling water and barely resisted throwing them at his brother’s head. “Okay, Erik. Here’s my problem. There’s something happening between Allie and me, and I don’t feel I can do anything about it unless you and I talk it out.”

  “What about Sandra?”

  “She’s fine with it.”

  His face twisted into skepticism. “She’s fine with it?”

  Jonas sighed, calling on his patience. He was really getting tired of his brother’s drama. “I talked to her just now. She’s fine with it.”

  Erik shrugged and unloaded a bag of mixed lettuces, but he seemed less cranky all of a sudden. “Good for her.”

  “She gets that this is nothing I planned or expected, it’s just how things worked out.”

  “Well, ain’t she a saint.”

  “I prefer the term goddess.” Sandra sauntered into the room, looking incredibly hot in her bikini, bringing with her the scent of cocoa butter and woman. Erik froze holding a bag of chips in midair, his mouth half-open, eyes slightly bulging. Jonas suppressed a grin. He’d bet that was exactly how he’d looked faced with Allie in the barely-there nightie.

  “Hey, goddess,” he said.

  “Having fun?” She shot Jonas a look of sympathy and grabbed a diet soda from the refrigerator. “You being a good boy, Erik?”

  Erik sent her a look of disgust.