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  Jonas came to stand next to her. He put an arm around her, then let it drop. The message was clear. He wasn’t touching her until he knew what was on her mind. She didn’t blame him. “The thing is...”

  “Go on.”

  She made a noise of exasperation and turned to face him. “I don’t even know what the thing is.”

  “Try me. Whatever comes to mind.”

  “Okay.” She drank more wine, aware that was probably a poor idea. “First, I don’t know what’s going on here with you and me, whether it’s a good idea or not, whether it will work or not, what it even is.”

  “But...” He touched her shoulder, a slight caress. “We don’t know each other well enough to pin any of that down yet.”

  “Right. Right.” Okay, there went that excuse. “So then I don’t know what will happen going forward. Do we date? Long distance? Which city? And how do we—”

  “Allie.”

  “What?” Her frustration came out in the word.

  He chuckled, looking gorgeous, his eyes full of amusement at her expense, as he took her wine away and balanced it on the railing.

  “What is so funny?”

  In answer he drew her close and kissed her the way he hadn’t yet this time, not at the bus station with a crowd around them, not when they arrived and she was being so skittish, but the way he had when he’d gathered her in his arms right here at this railing after he’d made love to Cleopatra, and she thought it was the last time.

  Her irritation melted. Her heart slowed, her muscles relaxed. She shut down her brain and responded to him with her body.

  That was better. Much better. This could be okay. If they stayed in bed all weekend long doing what they did best, and she could keep from thinking and feeling too much, that was all she needed.

  “Jonas.” She tipped her head to allow him better access to her neck. “I need to go up to the attic.”

  “Why?” He found the perfect spot, where her shoulder ended and neck began, and brushed his lips across her skin.

  “Page thirty-five,” she whispered. “You wouldn’t believe what Josephine—”

  “Allie.” He lifted his head, took her by the shoulders. “I don’t want to make love to my great-grandmother. I want to make love to you.”

  She blinked, laughed uneasily. “Well yes, but—”

  “No costume. Just you and me upstairs together. In my bed.”

  Allie’s heart started again its slow, steady thump of anxiety. “Just us.”

  “Uh.” He looked justifiably disbelieving. “Yeah?”

  “I’m sorry.” She pressed her hands to her temples. “I sound like an idiot.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Well maybe not an idiot. A ditz anyway.”

  “You said it.”

  She frowned at him. “Seriously, Jonas, you can contradict me anytime.”

  “Nope.” He found her hand and drew her toward the cottage door. “Don’t need to. You’re doing fine.”

  “It’s just that I’d envisioned the whole thing.” She resisted his pull, but only slightly. “The nightgown you saw me in...”

  “No nightgown.” He led her across to the staircase.

  “And then underneath, all she has on is this frilly little—”

  “No frilly.” He started climbing the stairs. “No little.”

  Allie started giggling. “But the shoes!”

  “No shoes.” In the bedroom he practically dragged her across the room.

  “Jonas! You’d like the hat!”

  “No.” He swung her up in his arms and dumped her onto the mattress. “Hat.”

  She barely got control of her laughter. “Okay, okay.”

  “Clothes.” He pointed to hers. “Off.”

  “Yes, sir.” Allie sat up, watching him pull off his shirt, watching that magnificent chest emerge. She pulled off her top, one of her favorites, short-cropped with wildly colorful vertical stripes.

  “Those, too.” He pointed to her white capris, unbuttoned his jeans and shoved them down, rescuing a condom from the back pocket.

  Allie scooted out of her pants, kicked her flip-flops off the bed and lay back in her bra and panties, arms folded across her chest, looking at him expectantly.

  Except she couldn’t keep her eyes from wandering down from his face. Broad muscular shoulders, defined abs, lean hips, powerful thighs and a half-erect penis that was calling to her.

  Mmmm.

  “Take off the rest, Allie.” His hands were on his hips. He was looking...hungry. “Slowly.”

  She hesitated, strangely reluctant now that their laughter was over. “Can you get on the bed with me?”

  He shook his head. “I want to watch you undress.”

  It hit her with a sudden shock that he’d never seen her naked. And that his request was perfectly natural. And that what she’d done in the costumes would lead him to believe she was totally comfortable in her body.

  Well, wasn’t she? She didn’t exactly need the lights out when making love. So what was her problem now?

  She smiled at Jonas, shook back her hair and sat halfway up to unhook her bra, sliding the straps slowly off each shoulder, letting her breasts emerge gradually into the cool air.

  He inhaled. His erection grew. Clearly he liked what he saw. So why this intense shyness on her part?

  She lay back on her elbows and passed her hands over her panties, pausing to rest her hands on the material between her legs, hoping he’d find that erotic, delaying the moment, feeling an unaccountably deep sense of anxiety and foreboding she didn’t understand.

  “Off.” His lips were twisted in a small smile. He thought she was teasing him.

  “If you insist.” Her voice came out thick and strange. She edged the material down, bent her knees with pointed toes, and let the cotton slip down and off.

  She’d been without clothes around men before, but had never, ever felt so naked.

  “You’re beautiful, Allie.” He stood watching as if he had no intention of ever moving.

  This wasn’t part of their game. This wasn’t a game at all.

  “Come here.” She held out her arms, hoping that as soon as he was there with her, as soon as he started kissing and touching her, her unease would disappear.

  He climbed onto the bed with her and drew her close. She burrowed into the warm, soft feel of his skin, into the wide expanse of his back under her fingers, and the delicious weight of him pressing against her. The fear was still there, though it had diminished some. Why hadn’t she felt this before? When she was Cleopatra? When she was the cool-as-cucumber seductress?

  Because now she was just Allie.

  He pressed her gently onto her back and explored her. Slowly, thoroughly with lips, fingers and tongue. Her face, her shoulders, then her belly and legs, then up again to dote on her breasts. Allie lay as she’d been instructed to, trying to relax. He was a skilled and patient lover. She was a rock.

  When he concentrated his attention between her legs, Allie closed her eyes and imagined the nightgown still covered her, imagined she was a woman of elegance, with many, many lovers, of which Jonas was her favorite. Imagined he’d pushed up the wispy cotton batiste to kiss her as he was doing now.

  Her arousal rose under the strokes of his tongue until she was again at the panting level of lust she’d experienced only with him.

  “I want to make love to you,” her dashing lover said.

  “Yes.” She waved her hand to give him permission.

  Jonas entered her slowly, lazily, a bit at a time, in and out while she made room for him inside her, getting hotter and wetter until she was able to take him all.

  Then he lay still, joined to her in the most intimate way of all, and waited until she opened her eyes to find him looking deeply into them.

  Immediately she froze, staring back up at him as if his gaze were paralyzing her. Slowly, she began to recognize the man in the depths of those eyes, and felt herself responding. The connection became nearly unbearable, t
he emotions overwhelming. She felt torn apart, wanting to disappear into him, wanting to shut him out.

  And then he began to move, faster and faster, with his eyes locked on hers. She bucked up against his thrusts, whimpering at the torture and pleasure of this invasion of her body and of her heart.

  Then her orgasm was simply inevitable; her body began gathering for it, climbing steadily toward ecstasy. She closed her eyes, hissing breath through her teeth, moaning softly.

  “Look at me when you’re coming, Allie.”

  She couldn’t, shook her head. It was too much, giving him too much. “I can’t.”

  “Look at me.” He spoke sharply, grinding his pelvis on hers, then moved out and plunged in again, nearly sending her over the edge. “Look at me.”

  She met his eyes, losing total control as he thrust again and her orgasm hit, making her shout, clutching his shoulders, writhing underneath him, feeling as if she couldn’t get close enough to him even as close as they were.

  Jonas!

  “Allie.” He whispered her name as if he’d heard her internally screaming his. She felt him strain, stiffen, then pulse inside her, his eyes locked onto hers again, insisting she share the pleasure she’d given him. Then they lay face-to-face, mouths open, panting, and if the look in Jonas’s face was anything like hers, awed.

  He dropped his head next to hers, pressing their cheeks together, digging his hands under her back to hold her tightly against him. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to memorize the feeling of his body on hers. She was still experiencing aftershocks from her orgasm that triggered more in him, their bodies coming down together. Slowly her breathing returned to normal. She felt the oddest combination of ripped open and triumphant.

  Was anything simple where Jonas was concerned?

  “Mmm.” He lifted his head. “Am I crushing you?”

  She shook her head, smiling up at him.

  “That was amazing, Allie. I’m—” He closed his eyes, shook his head briefly. “It was really wonderful.”

  “Yes.” She was shy again, but not nearly as shy as before.

  Jonas pulled reluctantly out of her, used tissues to dispose of the condom, and rolled back, pulling her against his chest. “Still want to get dressed up?”

  “Hmm.” She tangled her leg in his, knowing it was what he wanted to hear, then immediately prodding herself to tell him the truth. “Maybe sometimes.”

  “It was hard to talk you out of this time.”

  Allie shrugged, stroking the hair upward on his chest. This would be harder. “I guess I felt that without the clothes, it was just me.”

  He was silent for so long that she lifted her head to see his face. He was looking at her incredulously. “You didn’t think I wanted just you?”

  “No.” She frowned. “No, I didn’t mean that.”

  “What did you mean?”

  Allie moved restlessly, splaying her fingers against his sternum. “I meant...”

  He tightened his hold on her. “Tell me. No bull. Just tell me.”

  She nodded, remembering the deep feeling of connection while they were making love, the openness in his eyes. And Julie, saying Allie was using her past as an excuse to keep men at a distance. And the costumes. Maybe the awkwardness between them had been her fault, for not sharing enough of who she was from the beginning.

  In as few words as possible, she told him. About her family. Their house. Her father leaving for another woman and their new life of poverty. Her mother’s descent into alcoholism. Her brothers’ lack of ambition, and recent criminal activity.

  He listened quietly. When she had the courage to glance up at him, his expression was unreadable. Twice, she wanted to cut the story short, but forced herself to keep going, not to leave out anything crucial to who she really was.

  When she finished, the silence was long and nearly unbearable.

  Then he cleared his throat. “Why the shame, Allie?”

  “Well it’s—” She laughed bitterly. “It’s not a pretty story.”

  “No, it’s not. Why couldn’t you tell me this from the beginning? When I asked questions about your childhood? You shut me out.”

  “I don’t—” She took a breath. “It’s not the kind of thing you can tell just anyone.”

  “Uh...”

  “No. Jeez. No, that came out wrong.” She gazed at him pleadingly. “You’re not just anyone, of course you’re not. But I hate that part of my life, I left it behind me for the most part. It’s not just you, I hardly tell anyone. And frankly, the last guy I told dropped me immediately.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You think I’m the kind of person who would drop you because of something that happened twenty years ago? Because you don’t have money? You think I’m that shallow?”

  His words hit her like a kick to the stomach. Of course he’d see it that way. Who wouldn’t? Why hadn’t she realized how it would seem to him?

  “No,” she whispered. “I don’t think you’re that shallow. But I’m beginning to wonder if I am.”

  14

  IT WAS A RELIEF to be back at work, with everything going as expected, everything under control. Jonas’s weekend with Allie at Lake George had been anything but. Friday night, when he’d finally made love to her the way he’d wanted to from the moment he first met her in New York last Christmas, he’d been sure he was falling in love with her. He was even plotting to talk her out of taking the job in New York, and wondering how he could convince her to move to Boston. He’d like nothing better than to help support her while she started her own business, though he was well aware it was too soon to make those kinds of plans. He’d even fleetingly thought of starting his own company in New York, though it made little business sense given the wide array of contacts and clients he had here in Beantown. Still, in today’s mobile world anything was possible.

  When she’d told him about her situation growing up, almost everything had changed. He still found her incredibly desirable, he still loved being with her, laughing with her, making love to her.

  But...

  Her revelation underscored how little they knew each other. How much she’d been holding back. How little she trusted him or his reaction. How little she understood what his life was about, and how little he understood hers.

  It was time to put on the brakes. Time to stop thinking he’d found true love and start thinking with his rational brain. The fact that he’d been considering changing his life for her or asking her to change her life for him after such a short time together had been crazy, irrational, something his brother would do.

  And so damn thrilling. He’d felt alive, without having realized he’d been half dead; he felt the life ahead of him was newly full of possibilities, that with Allie beside him, he could conquer mountains, move armies. Or was that the other way around?

  God, he missed her.

  He picked up a report and scanned the first page, felt his irritation rising. Same old ineffective solutions to the same old problems. Cut management. Freeze wages. Come into work. Leave work. Go home alone.

  Jonas closed the report and tossed it onto his desk, shoved back his chair, and strode to the window, yanking his tie loose. Head close to the glass, he peered up at the sliver of gray sky the view afforded him.

  He couldn’t stay here. Not when he had tasted the joy and freedom Allie brought him, even for such a short time.

  The rest of the weekend with her had been dismal. Neither of them had recovered from her revelation. He was hurt, she felt rejected, and though they’d tried to rehash the subject a few times, their conversations were too accusing, too emotional, the gap too wide. No matter how many times he reassured her that he couldn’t care less where she came from, that her real self was what mattered to him, she didn’t buy it. Because he had money she assumed he looked down on her, that he was unable to judge her as a whole person.

  And no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t get over the way she’d judged him, or the way he’d fallen for someone who wasn’t w
hat he thought. Again.

  Ironically, they both wanted the same thing: someone who would love them for who they were.

  His phone rang. Sandra. Perfect example. Sandra was from humble beginnings, but at least she’d been honest, and was proud of being that person. He didn’t know many people who were more comfortable in their own skin, more sure of who they were.

  He picked up the phone eagerly. “Hey, there.”

  “You hungry, baby?”

  “Only for you.”

  Her laughter sounded forced. “Can you meet for lunch? I can be at your building in ten minutes.”

  Jonas looked at his watch. “It’s not even eleven.”

  “Oh, right, I forgot, we’re not allowed to eat until noon because that’s when lunchtime starts.”

  He rolled his eyes at her sarcasm. She knew him too well. “Okay, okay, I’ll meet you in ten minutes. Sandwich place across the street?”

  “See ya there.”

  She was waiting when he walked into the small, cheerful café, looking tired but beautiful as ever in a hot-pink top with her hair loosely pinned up. He kissed her cheek and sat opposite, wondering what was on her mind, guessing it had something to do with his brother. If Erik had hurt her...

  “How was your weekend?”

  “Oh, fine, fine. Let’s see.” She tapped her cheek, looking thoughtful. “Friday I had a quiet afternoon, did a show, came home, took a shower, poured wine...oh, and then your brother came over and told me he loved me.”

  Jonas grinned. “Yeah?”

  She stared at him, her lips parted in surprise. “You knew.”

  “He told me.”

  “He told you?”

  Jonas reached for his water and shrugged nonchalantly. “Hey, I’m his brother. He tells me everything.”

  Sandra snorted. “Since when?”

  “Since he told me he’s in love with you and I told him to get his ass to Boston and tell you.” He reached across the table to squeeze her hand. “He means it, Sandra.”

  “He certainly thinks he—”

  “Hey, there!” A young waitress came beaming over to their table. “How are you two doing on this sunny Monday?”

  “We’re fine.” Sandra shot Jonas a look. She loathed hyper-cheerful waitresses.