Nothing to Hide. Isabel SharpeЧитать онлайн книгу.

      3

      JONAS TURNED ONTO I-87 from Route 7, after skirting Albany. Forty-five minutes, give or take, and he’d be at Morningside a day earlier than expected. Funny, now that he was on his way, he couldn’t get there fast enough. The feel of the breeze, the way the woods smelled, the sand under his feet, the clear water around his body—it was like returning to the best part of his childhood. Maybe it was the best part. The one place his parents had relaxed their rules, or at least some of them.

      His client had canceled dinner that afternoon, then Sandra texted him that she’d agreed to take over a Friday night gig for an ill friend, so would be delayed leaving. She’d encouraged him to go without her, saying she’d drive out the next morning. Jonas had protested, but not very strenuously—the idea of leaving the hot, crowded city behind him after a long week had been too seductive.

      And Allie. What was it about a few perfunctory emails that had intrigued him so much? He knew plenty of smart, funny women in Boston. Most likely his memory of her from that dinner at Christmastime had been warped by time into a fantasy. Fantasy had an unfortunate way of beating reality. Case in point: he had believed Missy was a good life-match for him, while she’d been off spending his money and screwing one of her investment firm colleagues.

      Plus, Erik might truly like Allie in a deeper way than usual, and she might have changed and truly like him. Someone like Allie would be good for Erik, settle him down, give him something to think and care about other than his own needs and desires.

      Blink 182’s Neighborhoods ended; he fumbled around for his iPod and selected his favorite Red Hot Chili Peppers album, Stadium Arcadium, absently wondering what kind of music Allie liked, and whether Erik had entertained or appalled her on the drive up with his penchant for hard rock and heavy metal.

      He’d better get Allie out of his head. Erik had described this trip as his best chance with the woman he wanted to marry. Jonas wouldn’t break the brother code of ethics by trying to get close to her himself.

      But he might have to come to terms someday with being hot for his sister-in-law.

      * * *

      ALLIE STOOD AT the lake’s edge, enjoying the water’s surprising warmth lapping at her feet. This was fabulous! The moon was just over half full, but so bright, even through a thin layer of cloud cover, that she hadn’t bothered bringing out her flashlight. The pleasantly cool breeze kept any bugs at bay. She’d made a good decision to come out here instead of lying in that too-perfect room trying to force her body to sleep.

      She strolled toward the boathouse, relishing the rolling splash of waves, the distant creak of tree trunks, the occasional glimpse of a bat. At the boathouse, she peered inside a window and was able to discern a few shadows that might be canoes or kayaks, she wasn’t sure.

      Farther up the beach and toward the woods, the cottage tempted her. Moving closer, she could see a deck on the beach side of the house, on which sat a table and chairs. The perfect spot for sunning, reading or sipping cocktails. At the door, she hesitated before trying the knob. Locked up tight, she was sure.

      It wasn’t.

      Feeling guilty for preempting Erik’s tour, she couldn’t resist her curiosity and pushed the door open. The cottage was dimly lit by the moonlight through the windows, but she could make out a cozy cabin with all the comforts of home—even what appeared to be a tiny kitchen. This was her kind of luxury.

      Feeling the need to be quiet, even though there was no way Erik could hear her, she tiptoed around the couch, past the fireplace, toward stairs to what turned out to be a charming bedroom with a wall of windows facing the lake. She crossed to the bed, a king on a frame high enough that sleepers could easily see the view, climbed on it and shuffled on her knees toward the glass to look out at the water. Somewhere close by, a loon called out, a long, mournful cry and trill. What a wonderful place to sleep, tucked away almost in the woods, yet close to the lake. If this were her property, she wouldn’t go near the big house.

      Erik wouldn’t even have to know if she slept there tonight. She’d wake up early with the sun most likely, and be back in the main house before he stirred. Judging by how often he was late to work in the mornings, he was not an early riser.

      She pulled back the covers to find soft cotton sheets waiting for her. The pillows were piled high, real down pillows like those at Dad’s, the kind her family hadn’t been able to afford. They always had enough to eat―that was their luxury.

      Temptation warred inside her with a touch of anxiety. This wasn’t her home. Erik had his mother’s room prepared for her. There might be some reason she shouldn’t be out here. Maybe Jonas would want to stay in the cottage when he arrived the next day.

      Or it might be completely fine.

      Unable to decide, she cheated by lying down on top of the bed, scooting to the side closest to the windows. Within minutes she was yawning, as if it were completely natural to her body to sleep there. Giving in with only a slight qualm, she fished out her earplugs, put them in and let herself drift off.

      * * *

      JONAS INCHED HIS Toyota Camry to a halt a few yards from his brother’s beloved Mercedes sports coupe. The wind had picked up considerably in the last half hour, so there was little chance Erik or Allie would hear him arrive. He cut the engine, got out and inhaled the gusting lake air greedily. It was nice to be back. Assuming the place sold quickly, this would probably be his last pleasure trip here. Visits from now on would involve packing, sorting, throwing stuff away...

      He didn’t want to think about that now.

      Lifting his bag out of the backseat, he closed the door and walked up to the dark, still house, where Erik and Allie were sleeping. Alone? Together? Alone tonight at least, he decided. Erik would wait until Allie was comfortable here before he made the big move.

      For a full minute, Jonas stood in the clearing, gazing at Morningside. Again, he was gripped by emotions—longing, pleasure, affection. Many years of good times in that house, going back as far as his recollections.

      A burst of wind brought the first drops of rain and he turned toward the cottage, which Clarissa, the wife of their caretaker, George, kept cleaned, aired out and well-stocked, as well as the house. He’d texted Erik that he’d be arriving a day early but wasn’t sure his brother had read the message, since he hadn’t replied. Barging into the house unexpectedly could be an unpleasant surprise. Jonas didn’t want his second meeting with Allie to take place in the middle of the night after he’d just terrified her. And he wasn’t in the mood to face his brother’s smug I’m-gonna-score-this-weekend certainty.

      A grumble of thunder quickened his steps across the neatly mown grass that managed to grow in the sandy soil by the house. He stepped into the cottage just as the storm hit, wiped a drop of rain off his forehead and grinned at the familiar, dimly lit interior. This had been his refuge when he was too teenager-cool for his old room and his parents.

      He spent a few minutes walking around, touching old memories. Still-life paintings his grandmother Bridget had done of flower gardens and seashell-strewn beaches. Knickknacks bought on various family trips abroad—his mother’s clan had been avid travelers. Fertility figures from Ghana, nesting dolls from Russia, stone turtles from Hawaii...

      Wind and rain buffeted the house, making creaks that sounded like soft footsteps overhead. Jonas unpacked his toiletry kit, brushed his teeth and washed his face in the kitchen sink. The upstairs, with no windows facing west, would be black as a cave, and he’d forgotten to bring a flashlight. The little cottage had never been wired for electric power.

      Lightning illuminated the stairs as he made his way toward them. He loved lying