Nothing to Hide

by Isabel Sharpe

  “Damn.” Sandra drained a third of her glass. “So my delicious power play, my fabulous manipulation of the poor innocent man, officially backfired. And it gets worse.”

  “Wait, how?”

  Sandra sighed. “I don’t even want to admit how pathetically low I’ve fallen.”

  “That bad?”

  “I can hardly admit it.” She made a face, as if she’d eaten something foul. “I want him to love me for me.”

  “Oh my God, you’re right.” Allie kept her face deadpan. “That is horrifying. You are totally screwed.”

  Sandra burst into giggles. “You need to drink more. You are hilarious.”

  “You mean now? Okay.” Allie half finished her champagne and held it out for more when Sandra offered. “So, now what? You marry him and live happily ever after?”

  “Marry him? You have to be kidding me.” She poured unsteadily, nearly sloshing champagne over the top of Allie’s glass. “Men like Erik don’t want to get married. He’s playing at love. He will keep me around until I start looking old and then he’ll trade me in for a younger model.”

  “No.” Allie shook her head. “That’s other women. He wants to get married. I bet he asks you.”

  “Well, I don’t know if I want to get married.”

  “Ha!” Allie gestured with her glass. She could see right through Sandra. “You’re just putting on your tough act.”

  “What about you?” Sandra looked at her shrewdly. “Would you marry Jonas?”

  “Marry him? I barely know him.” Her voice was an unpleasant shriek.

  “Oh, I see.” Sandra jerked her eyes to a space above Allie’s head and pointed. “Hey, look! Flashing neon!”

  “No, no. No, not me. Besides, I made him hate me.” For some reason that made her giggle. But then everything was getting funnier by the minute. “Because of how freaked out I was by his money.”

  “You have to get over that. In fact, you should enjoy that. You should drink this champagne that costs a hundred fifty per bottle and say, ‘Thank you, gods on Olympus, for bringing me this man who is filthy rich enough to give me endless ambrosia.’”

  “Except we’re stealing it.”

  “Only somewhat.” Sandra lifted her chin. “They definitely owe us for mental trauma.”

  “You know, I should have told Jonas sooner.” Allie whacked her forehead. “I should have—”

  “What, been a different person? You can’t be.”

  “No, you’re right!” She nodded enthusiastically. “Once I met Jonas I should have gone back in time and been born into an upper-class family! Why didn’t I think of that?”

  “No, no, no.” Sandra ruined her stern lecture with a giggle she couldn’t hold back. “Our only mistake was in thinking of our lives as something that had to be kept secret.”

  “Amen, sister.” Allie stood unsteadily and addressed her congregation of one. “You and I are not our pasts. We accept their roles in shaping us but we won’t let them rule us anymore.”

  Sandra stood opposite her, equally unsteadily. “Nor will we let men rule what we say or do or feel.”

  “We are whole whether we’re with them or alone.”

  “No more hiding.”

  “No more lies or cover-up.”

  “Someone doesn’t like who we are?” Sandra signaled Allie to join her. They opened their mouths and shouted together.

  “Screw ’em!”

  A noise made them both turn abruptly. Allie nearly overbalanced.

  Standing in the doorway, laughing at them much harder than was polite, were Jonas and Erik.

  15

  SANDRA FOUGHT DOWN PANIC, her giddy buzz nearly gone. Had Erik heard her all but admit she was in love with him? That she’d been after his money? God, she hoped not.

  No, he couldn’t have. He wouldn’t be laughing.

  “How long have you been standing there?” she demanded.

  “Long enough to realize that we are evil oppressors and you like good champagne.” Erik walked toward her, his blue eyes still amused, dressed in a blue polo shirt that matched them and black shorts. Sandra wanted to retreat to the other side of the room. The emotions this man brought up in her couldn’t be healthy. Deep desire, growing love, fear, vulnerability and anger that he was making her feel all that. She’d probably have a heart attack.

  Allie straightened resolutely. “We were thirsty. And didn’t think you’d mind.”

  “It was my idea.” Sandra sent Allie a look of gratitude. Sweet kid. With a little straightening out she’d be good for Jonas. Though what had started out as a pep talk for Allie had turned into one for Sandra, too. She was glad she’d come up early. She was clear on what she wanted now. Clear about what she had to do.

  Erik put his arm around her and gestured grandly to Allie. “Il mio champagne è il tuo champagne, mio amore.”

  Sandra rolled her eyes, reluctantly impressed. Spanish, French and now Italian? “Language dropper.”

  He tightened his arm around her. “Come for a walk with me?”

  “I don’t do walks.” She let him kiss her on the cheek, and smiled at him because she simply had to.

  “Then come lie down with me,” he murmured.

  “A walk sounds great, thank you, Erik,” she said loudly. In a case of spectacular timing, a gust of wind and a boom of thunder let them know any walk undertaken at that hour would be a wet one. “Or maybe we’ll stay right here.”

  “Allie?” Jonas stood stiffly in the doorway. Sandra glanced at Allie, who was standing almost as stiffly, and her heart squeezed. Those two needed to be alone.

  “Erik, we should—”

  “Will you come to the cottage?” Jonas glanced briefly at the gathering storm. “We can probably just make it before it pours. Unless you’d rather I go stand outside with a long metal pole pointed toward the clouds.”

  “No, you don’t need to do that. I’ll come.” She grabbed the bottle of champagne, only about a third full by now. “But I’m bringing fortification.”

  “That’s not enough to fortify a kitten.” Erik dropped his arm from Sandra’s shoulders.

  “It’ll do.” Allie stopped opposite Sandra to surprise her with a warm hug on her way out.

  “Good luck, honey,” Sandra whispered.

  “You, too,” Allie whispered back. Then she winked, hoisted the bottle and crossed to Jonas with bearing worthy of a queen.

  “Hey.” Erik had reappeared next to Sandra holding out another bottle. “Just in case?”

  “Thanks, this is fine.” Allie grinned and followed Jonas out of the kitchen.

  “Holy mother of God.” Sandra whistled silently, eyeing the bottle. “What do you do, bathe in this stuff?”

  “Mmm, want to?”

  “I might. I’ll tell you when it’s safe to ask me.” She had one more secret. One last one that she hadn’t planned to tell him, ever. But the conversation with Allie had changed her mind. If she wanted him to love the real her, then he needed to know what she was capable of.

  “When it’s safe?” He swallowed comically. “Uh...”

  “So, Erik.” She turned to face him, took hold of his collar and stood very, very close. “Would you like to stay down here, or go upstairs?”

  His eyes started glazing. “Hmblerwog.”

  “Upstairs? I thought so.” She took a step back, pulling him after her.

  “What about glasses?” He held up the bottle.

  “Glasses?” Sandra turned around at the bottom of the stairs so she wouldn’t trip going up backward. “I thought we were bathing in it.”

  “Right. Right, I forgot.”

  “We’ll drink from the bottle. Or from―” she ran her tongue over her mouth “―other places.”

  Erik barely saved himself from tripping. “Don’t do that.”

  Sandra giggled, leading him up, thinking how she’d first seen him from these stairs, how she’d been surprised by his appearance, expecting aggressive virility and instead finding this sweet, sexy man. />
  Whose hands were currently making a very thorough exploration of the movements of her gluteal muscles as she climbed the stairs.

  Naughty boy.

  She loved him that way, every way. If he loved her that way, as well, would that be enough? Could she invest her heart and soul into this man and risk being ultimately cast aside for his next conquest? Life was so much safer when she had all her lovely barriers to hide behind.

  But yes, she could. People did it all the time. Normal, healthy people. If she wanted any chance to be happy she’d have to take that risk, too.

  She reached the landing, marched down the hall to Erik’s bedroom, yanked down her shorts and kicked them off. Pulled her shirt over her head and threw it across the room.

  Erik stood frozen in the doorway, clutching the bottle of champagne, watching her.

  Off came her bra. Off came her panties. She stood naked in front of him.

  “You.” She pointed to the overstuffed chair in the corner of the room, then put her arm down since her hand was trembling. “Sit there and listen to me.”

  He stayed where he was for an instant, trying to read her face. What he saw must have convinced him this wasn’t a game because he nodded, put the champagne on the dresser and crossed obediently to sit. “Okay, Sandra. What’s this about?”

  “I initially started this game with you because I wanted you to fall in love with me.”

  “Okay. Well, it worked,” he said quietly.

  “Yes, but I wanted that because I...” She took a breath and made herself continue, wrapping her arms across her chest, her eyes to the floor. “I wanted your money. I was tired of being alone and struggling, and you seemed like a nice guy, and you have plenty.”

  “I see.” He spoke gently; she was too nervous to look up. “You said ‘wanted.’ Does that mean you want more than my money now?”

  She looked up, then, and it was suddenly easy to talk. “Yes.”

  A spark of hope lit his face. “How much more, Sandra?”

  She unwound her arms, stood naked before him. “All of it,” she whispered.

  The spark grew into a blaze. Erik got up from the chair and lunged toward her.

  “I’ll give you all of it, baby.”

  Sandra burst into giggles. “Eek! Help! Pervert attack!”

  “Not the first time, won’t be the last.” He picked her up as if she weighed fifty pounds and swung her onto the bed.

  She lay back, laughter subsiding, waiting for him to undress.

  His shirt was off, landing with a swish. His shorts were off. Landing with a clunk.

  Sandra blinked. Clunk? She lifted her head. “What was that? Rocks in your pocket?”

  Erik chuckled harder than she would have thought the lame joke merited. “Actually, yes.”

  “Aww, you were out collecting beach stuff?”

  “Nope.” He picked up the shorts and fished in the pocket. “Out buying them.”

  “Buying rocks?” She sank disgustedly onto the pillow, staring straight up. “You rich people are too much.”

  “I’d really like to show you my totally cool rocks.”

  “Uh, yeah, sure.” She rolled her eyes at the ceiling. “That would be super.”

  “Okay, I will. After I—”

  “Get your rocks―” she turned and smiled sweetly “―off?”

  “That was bad.” Naked, with a condom on, he dived on top of her, making her squeal again. She welcomed him into her arms, absorbing the broad masculine feel of his body on hers.

  And then it was just too silly to put off telling him any longer.

  “Erik.”

  “Yes? God, you feel good.” He shifted over her, matching them up. Legs, pelvis, torso.

  “Listen, I want to—”

  “You have the most gorgeous skin, Sandra.” He kissed her shoulder, her cheek, her forehead.

  “Thank you.” She gathered her courage again. “Erik, I—”

  “And your breasts are works of art.” He showed her with his mouth his deep love of art.

  “Thank you. I’m trying—”

  “I want to make love to you all—”

  “For God’s sake, Erik, I’m trying to tell you I love you. Will you shut up?”

  He froze in shock, staring down at her.

  They both burst out laughing. Then stopped at the same moment.

  “Sandra.” Erik kissed her as if he was never ever going to stop, which she bloody well hoped he wouldn’t.

  The kisses turned hot and hotter, then he was sliding inside her, arms tight around her, making her feel adored, not confined.

  This was what it was like, then, loving and being loved. Something she’d been after all her life, often without realizing it. This was safety, not risk, this incredible connection, making love to each other on a level of intimacy she’d never experienced. Knowing unconditional love for the first time in her life.

  If only it could last forever.

  Careful, Sandra. Nothing lasts forever. At least not for you.

  She blocked the worrisome thoughts and relaxed into the slow, beautiful pace of their lovemaking, a pace that inevitably sped up when their mutual arousal demanded it.

  And then she was clutching him, not holding him, he was plunging not sliding, and she was panting and straining for the climax that hung just out of reach until he changed his angle, making her lift her hips higher. And then, yes, there was the wonderful onrushing ecstasy that burst over her.

  Yet through it all, the ultimate surrender, she was always aware of the man in her arms, always aware of them in this together, aware of his pleasure and climax as well as her own.

  So different.

  Then the gradual slowing of his breathing, the husky tone of his voice when he whispered her name. The deep sigh of contentment that relaxed him, and the echo of hers.

  “Sandra.”

  “Mmm?” She couldn’t be bothered to form an actual word.

  “I want to show you those rocks now.”

  Her peaceful face wrinkled into disbelief. He could not be serious. “Now?”

  “Yeah. They’re great. I got five of them.”

  “Five rocks.”

  “Uh-huh.” He pulled out of her and got up to get rid of the condom.

  Sandra lay on the bed, glaring at its wrought iron foot. Rocks. For crying out loud, this was the guy she had to fall in love with?

  A smile curved her lips and she stretched her arms deliciously over her head.

  Apparently.

  “Here.” He sat on the bed, reached for his stupid rocks. “But I’m only giving them to you because I love you.”

  “Sure, okay.” She struggled to sit up.

  And froze.

  Velvet box. Man holding it out to her. Deep love in his eyes.

  Rocks.

  “Oh my God, Erik.” She grabbed at the sheet, then realized she was instinctively trying to cover herself, and made her hand stay still. “What have you done?”

  “I told you. Bought rocks.” He spoke lightly, but his eyes were anxious, vulnerable. “They’re for you.”

  He opened the box. A ring. She couldn’t quite believe it until she saw it, sitting right there. A tiny part of her had still been thinking he might have a special box of rare and expensive minerals.

  But no. These were diamonds, four of them, flanking a spectacular sapphire.

  Five rocks.

  “I’ve been looking for you all my life, Sandra. Half the time I didn’t know it. More than half. But I’ve found you now, and it would make my life truly complete if you’d agree to share it.” He slid from the bed and got down on his knees, which meant only his head showed over the top of the mattress. She would have giggled, except his beautiful face was so sincere, and so solemn. Her lovely, sweet Erik, truly hers now, for the rest of her life.

  “Sandra McKinley, will you marry me? And yes, money comes with the deal. Because I don’t want you alone and struggling, either.”

  “Yes, Erik. Yes, I will marry you.�
� She touched his face tenderly, happy tears spilling over onto her cheeks. “But I swear I’d take you even if you didn’t have a cent.”

  16

  “OKAY.” ALLIE STEPPED into the cottage and turned to face Jonas. Rain had blackened his hair and tamped down his curls and was running in droplets down from his temples. His blue eyes were searching. She held up the champagne. “Let’s kill this bottle.”

  He lifted his eyebrows. “Any left?”

  “Not much. Got any more?”

  “Not of that stuff.” He took the bottle from her and strode over to the refrigerator, and took out another champagne, an outrageously expensive one. “Looks like if we want any more, we’ll have to make do with this.”

  “Oh, for—” She glared at him. “Don’t you do anything like normal people?”

  “Um, actually.” He winked at her, suggestively, looking sexier than any man had a right to. “Yes.”

  “Oh. Well. That.” Allie found herself smiling at him, when she should be staying strong and letting him know what was what. All of which was a little fuzzy at the moment.

  “Jonas.” She drew herself up tall. “I want you to know that I really don’t care about your money.”

  “Good.” He took down two flutes from the cabinet and poured out the rest of the Taittinger, a full glass for each of them, which under the circumstances was plenty. “I only care about money in that it makes life easy and comfortable, and I can afford to be generous.”

  “Oh. Well, yes. I meant that your money isn’t the issue for me.”

  “No?” He turned, holding the glasses.

  “No. I was the issue for me. I mean, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about my life and my dad sooner. I shouldn’t have been ashamed of—”

  “No.” He brought the glasses over and handed her one. “That’s not the issue.”

  “No?”

  “No. I was the issue. I didn’t understand how important it was that you did tell me. It was a big risk for you, a huge show of trust in me. I took it the opposite way, and I was wrong.”

  “Oh. So...” She frowned at him. “What’s the issue?”

  “As far as I’m concerned, Allie, there isn’t one.” He leaned in to kiss her, a slow, sweet kiss that made her heart rise up and threaten to spill over like champagne poured too quickly.