“And finally...this.” She singled out his index finger, pressed it to the juncture of her thighs. Got him.
Except he freed his finger with ease, and firmly cupped her sex in his palm. Sandra froze for three endless seconds, feeling his fingers move gently. Unexpected arousal seared through her. She moved back abruptly, retrieved her booze glass from the sink and brought it back to him. “Hit me.”
Erik looked at her uncomprehendingly, eyes still glazed. “You want me to hit you?”
“Erik, Erik, Erik.” Sandra thumped her glass on the counter, annoyed with herself for coming so close to losing control of the situation. Guys like Erik were always in control. She’d be no different than any other woman if she fell apart under his touch. “Pour me more of something. Anything. Don’t care if it’s Marquis de La-dee-da or a wine cooler, as long as it has alcohol in it.”
“Yes, right, okay.” He got up from the stool, erection ballooning the front of his pants. There was something weirdly endearing about that messed-up kid. “How about Frapin Extra Grande Champagne Cognac, about $25 per ounce?”
Sandra rolled her eyes. “Blah-blah-blah, just pour.”
He poured, grinning boyishly. “Not impressed?”
“Takes more than money to impress me.”
“I’m beginning to get that.” He held up his glass toward hers, inviting a clink. “I’m ready to accept your proposition. On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“You have to tell me secrets, too.”
“Of course.” She clinked smugly. Her secrets were easy to tell. Her parents didn’t want or love her, she married a much-older man who was a controlling jerk and she left him to become a stripper. She could tell the truth but leave out the pertinent details. Like growing up rich. Like being disinherited. Like the pain she carried around from being denied a real family by parents who treated her like the mistake she was, spending money on her when she wanted their time and affection. Like her brief foray into drugs, and the one night she’d come dangerously close to prostituting herself that officially counted as hitting bottom. Her battle to get clean and begin a new life supporting herself.
She’d bet a glass of Don Julio Real that Erik had never shared much with his hot young things besides bodily fluids. Feeling vulnerable to and validated by someone could be powerful stuff. And if things didn’t work out between them and she failed to land his lovely lifestyle permanently, she’d still be teaching him to value women outside of a sexual capacity, a gift to her gender.
“When do we start?”
Sandra lifted her glass. “Another day. Tonight we just have fun.”
“Okay.” Erik grinned eagerly. “What kind of fun? Skinny-dipping? Naked Twister? Strip poker?”
Sandra sent him the exasperated look he was undoubtedly expecting. “This will be a new way of thinking about women, Erik.”
“Oh, no.” He looked distinctly ill. “We have to watch Bridesmaids? Play Monopoly? Alphabetize the CD collection?”
“All that and more.” She laughed at his expression and tossed back her remaining twenty dollars’ worth of brandy. “You’re about to embark on the adventure of your life.”
9
Dear Diary,
Mum and Daddy went out tonight to a party at the Gullivers’. Such a pity! Because it meant Walter and I were alone. Well of course Dorothy and David were here, but I very generously gave them the night off and a few dollars to enjoy themselves with. Walter is very interested in Egyptian history, lucky for me. I asked him about it because I wore the most fabulous Cleopatra costume to a party last year, and it’s been sitting around going to waste. The best part of the costume is the part no one ever saw, the undergarments. Walter will see those tonight. I’m thinking that one or two more nights of this should be sufficient. He leaves on the weekend. If I can get a proposal before he goes, I will count myself not only a successful seductress, but the luckiest girl in the country. He is a truly wonderful man, and my feelings are only growing stronger the more we talk.
Allie threw the Frisbee to Erik and managed a surreptitious glance at her watch. Was it broken? Ten minutes after the last time she’d checked it and only two minutes had passed. She was hoping for at least forty-five.
Her next “date” with Jonas would be in about an hour. Their little quartet had spent a quiet Sunday the day before, on the beach in the morning, then indoors during a rainy afternoon. Allie had passed the time in the attic. They had dinner together then watched a couple of movies—P.S. I Love You for the women and Fight Club for the guys. It had been late when the second movie finished, and Allie had been the first to announce that she was going to bed, followed by Sandra, while the guys looked forlornly after them.
Yes, Allie had wanted to be with Jonas, but she worried that spending every night with him would catapult them into what felt more like a relationship than a flirtation, and she wanted to make sure nothing serious developed. Already she was feeling too much.
Tonight, however, Erik and Sandra had plans to go into Glens Falls for dinner and to listen to music. Jonas had firmly declined the invitation for him and Allie, making it clear that Allie was not getting away from him. She grinned. Being desired was absolutely delicious.
The Frisbee came back to her. She caught it neatly and hurled it away. At least Erik was no longer flirting with her. He seemed to have switched quite happily to lusting after the sultry Sandra. Allie couldn’t blame him, though she’d bet Sandra put up with a whole lot less of Erik’s crap than most of the girls he dated. In any case, it meant that Allie and Erik could relax around each other, and their friendship had improved 100 percent.
Erik’s next throw came at her too high, causing her to back up in a hurry, stumble on the sand, then make a stupendous jump...and miss. She ran after the Frisbee, wondering at this strange habit humans had of throwing things at each other. Balls, spinning plastic disks, boomerangs, batons...
“Sorry!” Erik called to her across the beach. “Don’t know my own massive strength.”
“Not as sorry as you’re going to be.” She retrieved the Frisbee and launched it back at him. He waited, gathered himself, made a leisurely leap and grabbed it. “Aww, lucky catch!”
She’d spent another hour in the attic today after she and Jonas got back from their hike and picnic lunch, unpacking yet another trunk of fabulous clothes—less fabulous than the ones she’d already opened, but still fabulous. The second round of trunks, one of Bridget’s, one of Josephine’s, held everyday dresses, some of which were timeless enough to wear now. There was also a wonderful array of handbags in gorgeous leathers, beads, velvets and satins, even one made out of ornately etched Lucite.
Then she’d dived into Josephine’s diary again and come up with page twenty-seven and the corresponding Cleopatra lingerie outfit, a hilarious but sexy combination of a gold bandeau and black sequined panty with a tiny swatch of skirt in front and back. Completing the outfit were a black sequined cap, an ornate arm bracelet and gold chains for around her bared waist. On her feet she’d wear fabulously complicated strappy heeled sandals.
She might have kept Jonas at arm’s length yesterday and today, but tonight they’d get very, very close.
“I’m done.” Erik fell onto his towel, pretending to be exhausted. Sandra was upstairs taking a nap. Jonas had gone into town for groceries, then for another run. Allie had jogged with him earlier, but his stride was so much longer than hers that she doubted he’d gotten much of a workout and wasn’t surprised when he said he was going out again.
“Yeah?” Allie lowered herself to her own towel, spread out next to Erik’s. A few yards away, waves splashed in, the wake of a passing boat reaching them. Above them, cotton-ball puffs sailed past. So beautiful. “That’s your workout for the day, huh?”
“For the week.” He patted his slightly soft stomach. “I save my heavy exercise for the dinner table.”
Allie snorted. “Nice.”
“Allie, Allie, Allie.”
&nb
sp; “Ye-e-es?”
“You doing okay?”
She knew what he was asking. “Yeah. You?”
“I’ve been thinking.”
“Don’t strain yourself.”
“Ha ha.” He turned on his side and shaded his gaze from the sun. “You and Jonas are perfect for each other. Long term. Like forever.”
“Uh...” Her insides burned with excitement, which annoyed the hell out of her. She didn’t want to marry Jonas. But clearly her fantasies were running far ahead of reality.
“No, really, hear me out. You’re classy. You grew up in a good family. You can deal with all this.” He gestured around, indicating their property. “Not everyone is comfortable in our world. I don’t blame them. It can be intimidating if you’re not used to it. Money pisses a lot of people off. They struggle all their lives and never have enough, and here we are with so much and we never even had to lift a finger to get it.”
Allie rolled her eyes behind her dark glasses. Oh, Erik. She’d never told him she grew up in a “good” family, whatever that was. He’d just assumed. Was she comfortable in his world? She pretended to be. She’d love to be. Maybe someday she could be. But he was right about one thing: he wouldn’t be too comfortable in her mom’s squalid three-bedroom apartment with five McDonald boys and however many girlfriends, all yelling at one another. Neither would Jonas.
When the Meyer boys had dinner with their parents, you could probably hear cells dividing.
She turned on her side toward him, anxious to change the subject. “I was thinking that you and Sandra are perfect for each other.”
“What?” His lips curved in a smile, belying his outrage. “You can’t be serious.”
“She’s a little wild, the way you are, but she fits here. She’s taken this place totally in stride.”
“She grew up in South Boston.”
Allie groaned. “You say stuff like that, and I just want to smack you. Seriously, Erik, who cares? She’s a class act, and you’re a moron if you can’t—”
“No, no, you’re right. That slipped out. I didn’t really mean it. See, you have to understand. Jonas and I were raised by snobs to be snobs. Neither of us really thinks money gives us value as people. But for our entire childhoods, this ‘us versus them’ philosophy was taught, by action if not words. It’s hard to shake that off.”
“I understand.” She did. Because she’d learned, from her childhood and experiences with her father’s snotty second family, that everyone with money looked down on those without. And her brothers never failed to point out that she should take pride in her poverty and stick to her own kind. Her aspirations for getting an education, dressing and speaking differently from her siblings, and making something better of herself earned her family’s scorn and permanently damaged their relationship. There were snobs on all sides.
“Sandra isn’t as perfect for me as you would have been, Allie. I need settling down.”
“You?” She lifted her sunglasses to peer at him, wondering what he’d think about her level of wildness if he’d seen her seduce his brother. “You’d be miserable settled down.”
“No, it’s time. I’m thirty. I’ve been running wild too long.”
“Well, then settle down with someone who can run wild the way you need to, Erik. Like Sandra.”
Erik was quiet for a while, scooping sand and letting it trickle through his fingers. Had she reached him? “Maybe you’re right. I need someone wilder than you. And you need someone steadier than me. Like Jonas.”
“Nah.” She kept her voice dismissive, annoyed with her racing heart. “We’re just having fun. He lives in Boston, I live in New York—”
“Where you don’t have a job. Perfect time to move.” He snapped his fingers. “Hey, I can get ordained online and marry you guys.”
“Erik!” She was laughing now in protest. “Enough.”
“I’d love to have you as my sister-in-law,” he said. “You could name your first child Erik. And your second.”
Her phone rang. She dug it out of her beach bag, saving Erik from a mouthful of sand, and checked the display. Da Vinci Design! “Ooh, job phone call!”
He crossed fingers on both hands. “Good luck!”
“Hello?” Allie struggled to her feet, feeling silly taking a business call lying in the sand in a bathing suit top and shorts.
“Hello, Alison. This is Jennifer Birchfield from Da Vinci Design. I’m calling to tell you that we were impressed with your résumé and would like to have you in to talk about the assistant art director position.”
Allie whirled to face Erik and pumped her fist. “Thank you, that would be great. I’m very interested.”
Erik gave her a double thumbs-up.
“We’re talking to people tomorrow. Can you come in at four?”
“Absolutely. See you then.” Allie ended the call and let out a woo-hoo that Jennifer Birchfield could probably hear in the city.
“Interview?”
“Interview! Tomorrow! With Da Vinci! Assistant art director! I’m totally qualified. I have a good feeling about this.”
“Do you have to leave tonight?” He looked crestfallen.
Allie’s grin drooped and she felt a strange panic. No, she didn’t have to leave that night, but she would have to leave early the next morning, depending on train or bus schedules. She wouldn’t be able to get back until late tomorrow night. Or there might be a second interview she’d need to stay in the city for. Jonas was leaving Lake George first thing Wednesday morning.
Tonight could be their last night together.
* * *
JONAS LIT THE charcoal in the tiny grill on the cottage’s back deck. You couldn’t beat burgers on a hot summer evening. And these had a twist, with store-bought pesto mixed into the beef, and slices of tomato and fresh mozzarella waiting to top them. A burger caprese salad. He’d bought asparagus to grill, and of course, a bag of Lay’s classic potato chips, his favorite. And watermelon.
On the counter sat a bottle of Bartolo Mascarello’s 2008 Barbera d’Alba, a medium-bodied red that wouldn’t be overwhelmed by the strong flavors in the burgers. A Duke Ellington album he’d bought on iTunes earlier that afternoon was playing on the iPod.
He was nervous, and not exactly sure why. He and Allie had had a nice day together yesterday and again today. After a run and swim that morning, they’d packed lunch and driven around to the east side of the lake for a short hike at Shelving Rock Falls, an easy three-and-a-half-mile round-trip, but a beautiful one, with spectacular views. He hadn’t done that trail since he was a kid. Allie had seemed fairly relaxed, though he still had the feeling she was holding back, reluctant to open up about herself. Whether from fear or reticence, he wasn’t sure.
Everything she did say seemed to come straight from her heart or her funny bone. Spending time with her made him realize too many of his interactions with friends and colleagues were superficial and serious. One of the reasons he enjoyed Sandra was how much she made him laugh. But apart from her, he’d somehow lost touch with the fun people in his life.
God forbid he turn into his father, obsessed with his studies, socializing only with other serious academics, attending parties with what seemed to be a permanent scowl. Dad had even been somber and intense about golf and tennis. Did he ever cut loose? Jonas couldn’t imagine.
With Allie, Jonas was rediscovering—or maybe discovering for the first time—a more playful part of himself.
After the hike, Allie had retreated to the attic. Jonas had been restless, unable to sunbathe, read, nap or find anything to do that satisfied him. When he found out Erik and Sandra were taking off tonight, the idea of cooking dinner for Allie in the cottage came to him, and he’d jumped at the chance to shop for groceries. When that wasn’t enough, he’d gone for another run, not very far, but fast. He’d needed to strain his muscles, to blow out some of this extra energy. He’d needed space to clear his head and try to figure out what the hell was going on.
It wasn’t
like him to be so unsettled.
Was it just that Allie had awakened the sexual beast that had been more or less dormant since Missy? In the last couple of days, since their erotic encounter on the deck, Allie had put distance between them, and he’d been nearly crazed with the desire to touch her, as much as he enjoyed her company on every other level. Maybe sexual frustration was building in him retroactively, from the long spell between partners, and he—
“Hello.”
Jonas started, then turned sheepishly, embarrassment changing to ridiculous pleasure at the sight of her. Allie was dressed simply in a yellow and white vintage linen dress over some kind of gold camisole. Her wheat-colored hair was swept up and pinned at the back of her neck. Her tanned skin made her hazel eyes even more vivid. She looked sophisticated and elegant. His heart gave a painful thump. He wanted to kiss her. Badly. Instead he saluted her with the charcoal lighter as if it were a sword. “Hi.”
“Sorry I startled you.”
“No problem. I was pondering briquets.”
“How deep.” She looked over his blue shorts and casual white shirt in a hungry way that probably mirrored how Jonas had been looking at her.
Did he say he wanted to kiss her? Make that he really, really wanted to kiss her. Keeping himself from attacking her today had been physically painful.
But okay, he’d play it her way for now. They had two more nights this week before he left. He’d already decided to come up again next weekend so they could have two more. He could afford to be patient a while longer.
Then it would be his turn.
“Have fun in the attic this afternoon?”
“Ohhh, yes.”
Just the way she said those two words made his cock stir. Plenty of women had turned him on, though he’d dated only two seriously, but none of them had engendered such a fierce, primal response from him. Allie wasn’t the outwardly sexiest or most beautiful, but there was something about her that had pushed too many other thoughts out of his head, and made him want to alternately ravish and protect her.
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