sibling envy. Interesting, since Erik wasn’t exactly passed over when it came to handing out gifts. He had the looks and charm and was good at his job, too, from what Jonas had told her, as well as being a connoisseur of food and wine. But family dynamics didn’t thrive on logic. They often thrived in spite of it.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Erik. I look forward to getting to know you better this weekend.” She gave him a sultry smile because why not, and started down the hall, rolling her suitcase along, swinging her hips since she was sure he was watching.
“Oh, Sandra. Jonas might not be up here. Sometimes he sleeps in the cottage.”
“Cottage?” Sandra turned, smirking. “You mean that whole other house outside?”
He smirked back. “You got a problem with money, Sandra?”
“Only in that I don’t have enough, Erik.”
He chuckled, a laugh remarkably similar to his brother’s. “I like you. You’re not Jonas’s type at all.”
“No? Whose type am I?” When he just kept grinning, she and her suitcase turned back and started again down the hall. “See you in the morning, baby. Butler serving breakfast?”
“Yuh-huh. Seven a.m. sharp. You miss it, you don’t eat.”
“I’ll see what I can manage to—”
A frantic pounding came at the front door, then the sound of male laughter and a female squeal, followed by a cascade of giggles.
Sandra turned to stare at Erik, who stared back. “Expecting company?”
“It sounds like—”
The front door burst open.
“We made it.” Jonas’s voice, out of breath. “Thank God I remembered the extra key.”
“I’m soaked!” Unidentified woman’s voice.
Behind Sandra, Erik’s footsteps, approaching fast. Apparently that unidentified voice was now identified.
Sandra descended the curve of the staircase with Erik close behind. And there they were, Jonas and Allie, dripping wet, smiling at each other in a way that people who had only just met generally didn’t, and standing much closer than strangers usually did, even if they were very nearsighted. Which Jonas, at least, wasn’t.
Sandra’s heart contracted sharply. Jealousy, unwelcome and unwarranted. Allie was supposed to be Erik’s project up here. Jonas was supposed to be hers.
Above them, on the landing, her suitcase fell over with a loud thud.
Jonas and Allie looked up.
There was a brief and deliciously awkward silence.
“Sandra,” Jonas said cheerfully.
“Hello, Jonas,” she replied calmly.
“Allie!” Erik, mildly apoplectic.
“Oh. Hi, Erik.” Allie spoke too loudly, her tone a combination of guilty and giddy.
Well.
What an interesting weekend they were all going to have.
* * *
Text from Allie: Julie, you would not believe what happened tonight. It involves Jonas, me and a bed. Nothing actually happened, but it felt like it could have. People magazine knows nothing. This is the sexiest man alive.
* * *
ALLIE’S EYES FLEW OPEN. Morning. How early was it? She squinted at her watch. Nearly eight. She hadn’t slept well, not surprising after all the excitement the night before. Terror and titillation and tremendous awkwardness. She and Jonas had run out of the cottage, intending to head straight for the main house, but Jonas had grabbed her hand and swerved, leading them down to the lake. The rain really let them have it then, but instead of escaping, they’d sprinted, splashing, along the water’s edge, getting soaked and having a total, exhilarating, childish blast. Allie was a sucker for men who could play. After meeting Jonas in New York, as polished and interesting as he was, she wouldn’t have thought he had that in him.
Yum.
Back inside, breathless and laughing, they’d found Erik and Sandra sending them such icy looks she was surprised the water hadn’t frozen on their bodies.
A waste of their energy. Jonas and Allie’s fun had been entirely innocent.
Well, mostly innocent.
Okay, buried under a thick layer of sexual tension there had probably been a speck of innocence somewhere.
Sigh.
With the four of them there, together for the first time, it had been hard to know what to say to whom, how to frame their entrance, or whether to apologize for something they hadn’t really done. It was a complicated mess, with relationships among the quartet poorly defined all the way around. Were Jonas and Sandra really just friends? Had Erik really told his brother he had feelings for Allie? Did he?
Allie had no idea. The best thing to do was get up, have breakfast and start over. But first, she’d scramble out of bed and have a long look out the window—being careful not to leave smudges or fingerprints or shed skin cells on anything.
The morning was glorious. A cool breeze blew in through the screen and the lake sparkled in the sun, shining out of a cloudless sky. Ahhh, much better than the city, at least for this week.
She showered and dressed in black shorts with a peacock feather design—from the Artists & Fleas market in Brooklyn, her favorite source for relatively inexpensive secondhand clothing—and a simple white top. Minimal makeup. She wasn’t out to seduce anyone. Right, Sandra? Right, Erik?
At least she probably wasn’t.
Ready for the day, she wandered out into the hall, noting the still-closed doors. Nobody up but her? Erik had said breakfast was a free-for-all, that their house elf, Clarissa, would have stocked the kitchen and they could rummage around and grab whatever they wanted.
She was fine with that. In fact, it would be good to grab a bite and have a leisurely jolt of caffeine to fortify herself before she had to deal with anyone else.
Except...Jonas was already up, standing with his back to her, barefoot in the cinnamon-smelling, sparkling clean, nearly antiseptic kitchen. He was wearing a royal-blue T-shirt that emphasized the breadth of his shoulders and khaki cargo shorts that emphasized the sexy shape of his ass.
“Good morning.”
“Hey, Allie, good morning.” He swung around, wearing a natural grin that made her relax. There might be lingering tension with Sandra and Erik this morning, but at least she had an ally. “How did you sleep?”
She debated whether to be polite or honest, and chose the middle ground. “Not too bad.”
“But not too good? Same here. Coffee?” He pointed to the pot. “I’ll pour.”
“Love some.” She perched on a stool by the huge kitchen island, thinking how much more welcoming and cute the cottage kitchen was than this stainless steel, white-countered bastion of state-of-the-art perfection. She would have loved to see the kitchen original to the house.
“Clarissa’s got fresh fruit for us and pecan cinnamon rolls. That sound okay?”
“I thought I smelled heaven. That sounds wonderful.” She accepted her mug and sipped gratefully. The brew was dark, rich and strong, just the way she liked it.
“I’m guessing Erik and Sandra will be asleep for a while.” Jonas pulled a pan of the fragrant rolls out of the oven. “They’re both night owls and late sleepers. So we’re on our own for a few more hours.”
“Okay.” She liked the sound of that, but not the concept of him being familiar with Sandra’s sleeping habits.
“I