Isabel Sharpe - Nothing to Hide

“I’m doing us both a favor. She got laid off.”

“Tough break.” He went to his window—with a view of the building next door—and pictured Allie sitting across from him at the restaurant, cheeks pink from the wine, hazel eyes bright under girlish wheat-colored bangs, talking about her design-career hopes and ambitions with every ounce of the passion he no longer had for his. Being laid off would have hit her hard. That depth of excitement had been one of the sexiest things about her.

What he hadn’t seen in Allie was even the slightest trace of sexual interest in his brother. Unless Jonas’s radar had misfired, he’d say he had more chemistry with her than Erik did, though a lot could’ve changed in seven months. Was she really “weakening”—Erik’s typically charming choice of words? It was disappointing to think she might fall like the rest of them.

“She’s incredibly talented. You should see the costume designs she did in school. I told her about Grandma Bridget and Great-Grandma Josephine’s clothes and how Mom wants to get rid of them. She was practically drooling.”

Aha. So Allie could be more interested in the clothes than his brother. Jonas relaxed his shoulders, unaware of how tightly he’d been holding them.

“So you’ll come?”

“Erik, I can’t just take a week off work.”

“Sure you can. You just don’t think you should.”

Jonas suppressed a jolt of irritation and tapped a pencil on his desk. His brother always made him out to be a somber slave to duty like their father. Maybe compared with Erik’s hedonistic lifestyle he was the more responsible one, but nothing extreme, and typical for an oldest child.

He could go up for the weekend. It had been a while since he’d been to Lake George. Two years, since the last time the family got together there before his parents’ move.

“A long weekend, then,” Erik said.

“Quite a drive for a weekend.”

“C’mon, help me out, brother.”

Jonas rolled his eyes. He usually did give in to his brother, sometimes against his own instinct. But Erik was family, and that seemed to win out. Jonas rarely asked for anything in return—but there was one thing he did want from his brother now. “Tell you what. I’ll go up for a long weekend if you drop your objections to selling the house.”

There was a long silence. Jonas had expected an immediate refusal. Either Erik had been considering changing his mind anyway, or he wanted this time with Allie more than Jonas thought. “For that, you’d owe me a whole week.”

Jonas peered at his BlackBerry, checking the next week’s schedule. He could move his Monday trip to Wednesday afternoon and take Monday and Tuesday off.

“Half a week. I’d have to leave Wednesday morning.”

“Deal.”

Jonas lowered his brows suspiciously. His brother had been persistently vocal in his objections to selling Morningside. “Just like that?”

“Look, you, Mom and Dad all want to sell. I’m outnumbered, I get that. This is sooner than I’d planned to cave, but I’ll do it for Allie.”

“Okay.” The victory left Jonas less triumphant than he’d expected. With their parents abroad, the house had been sitting empty except for Erik’s brief, infrequent visits. Upkeep was expensive. With money from the sale of the house, Jonas would rather buy a retreat of his own, closer to Boston, maybe in Cape Cod. A place he could use year-round.

“Bring Sandra.”

“Jeez, Erik.”

“I told Allie—”

“Well, un-tell her. I’m not involving Sandra in your schemes.”

“This isn’t a scheme. I think Allie could be the one.”

Jonas turned from the window. He’d never heard Erik talk like that. Size of boobs, lushness of ass, depth of sexual depravity, sure, but marriage? “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not kidding. I’m crazy about her. She’s everything I want.”

“Since when do you want to get married?”

“I’m almost thirty. It’s time. And I want kids.”

Jonas took the phone and stared at it before replacing it to his ear. “Who are you, and what have you done with my brother?”

“Just call Sandra.”

“She’ll have shows this weekend.”

“So have her come next week.”

Jonas scowled, tempted in spite of himself. Sandra was a long-ago lover and good friend. She’d been a rock during the ugly breakup with Missy. “You’re a piece of work.”

“I owe you one, bro.”

Jonas hung up the phone, shaking his head. He could stand up to the highest-level executives in the company. But around his brother he became as indulgent as their grandfather, who used to bring cookies and candy from Germany when he visited, as if Jonas and Erik were still kids. Really good cookies and candy. They didn’t object.

Taking consolation from the knowledge that if he didn’t want to make the trip to Lake George, wild horses couldn’t make him, he dialed Sandra, whom he’d known for ten years, since the night he’d gone to one of her shows on a musician friend’s suggestion. She’d spotted him in the audience and had come over to his table. They spent the intermission together, then time after the show, then made a long, hot night of it—that night and several others. For two years, if they weren’t seeing other people, they’d hook up for a night, once a week, sometimes more, sometimes less. He’d liked the uncomplicated nature of their sexual relationship and was disappointed when she ended it and broke off contact. Happily, they met again by chance a few years later, and had started a platonic friendship. Who knew, maybe they would end up together forever. They joked about it now and then.

Sandra picked up. “Hey, hottie, what’s happening?”

“Want to come with me to Lake George for a long weekend?”

She gasped theatrically. “Oh, you are so speaking my language.”

“Seriously? You don’t have a show?”

“I’m between them, and can’t stand myself anymore. You called just as I was about to become a heroin and shopping-channel addict. I don’t know which one’s worse.”

“Yeah?” He chuckled. She had a fairly edgy sense of humor, to put it mildly. Came from a rough childhood in South Boston. “Put down the needle and the remote and pack your bags.”

“When do we leave?”

“Considering the week I’m having, not soon enough. Saturday morning? I have a dinner meeting Friday.”

She clucked her tongue. “Only you would have a business meeting on a Friday night.”

“He’s a client in town for a conference.”

“I’m telling you, they own your very fine Jon-ass.”

“Ha.” He bristled at the dig. “Maybe not for long.”

“Yeah?” She dropped the sensual lounge singer act she did so well, her voice rising to its normal sweet pitch. “No offense, but I’ve been hearing that for a while.”

Jonas sighed wearily. “I know. But I’m getting closer. We can talk.”

“Good deal. Saturday suits me fine. What brought this on, by the way? I thought you were going to get rid of the place.”

“We’ve been summoned to chaperone young Erik and his latest target.”

“Erik needs a chaperone? What’s wrong with that boy? Or more to the point, what’s wrong with the woman? Frigid? Closet gay? From a past century?”

“I was just asking him the same thing. Between you and me, I think it’s a case of ‘she’s just not that into him.’”

“Ah. I suppose even a master can fail sometimes. Well, after all the stories you’ve told me, I look forward to watching him in action.”

“That makes one of us.” His voice came out more brusquely than he intended. “I’m sure he can’t teach you a thing.”

“You got that right.” Her voice went back to the sensual purr she used in her act to great effect. Sandra had been performing since she could walk, in community theater, in equity shows and her favorite—singing jazz and show tunes in clubs around Boston. She was beautiful, sexy, magnetic and a hell of a singer. “I also look forward to hanging out with you, Jonas.”