usually made it worse.
The cottage hadn’t seen any action from him since Sally. The first and only time he’d invited a girlfriend up here, his parents had gone so ridiculously overboard making sure they were never alone long enough to have sex, that Maria had gone home days early and dumped him soon after. He hadn’t bothered trying again. His parents firmly believed that all women wanted from Erik and Jonas was to get pregnant and trap them and their Meyer money. Given his experience with Missy, he was starting to wonder if they were onto something.
His eyes opened. Allie wasn’t in that camp if she’d resisted Erik for this long.
Lightning flashed.
Huh? In his peripheral vision, he could have sworn...
It flashed again.
What the—
Allie?
Good God. Had he conjured her up? Hallucinated her? Why didn’t he notice her before when lightning lit the room? Did she know he was there?
He stared at the blackness, frozen in surprise, heart pounding.
What now?
Maybe she didn’t know he was there. Maybe she’d been in the bathroom when he came upstairs? Crazy coincidence.
“Allie,” he called softly.
No answer.
The storm renewed itself, rain that had been tapering off hammered again, thunder rumbled louder.
Back asleep already? She couldn’t be. Sleepwalking, then?
“Allie?” He tried louder, worried he’d terrify her. His heart had nearly stopped when he saw her, but at least he knew she and Erik were on the property. She thought he was still in Boston.
Maybe he should just sneak out. If she caught him, okay, at least he’d be an intruder in her bedroom, not in her bed.
Small problem: he was naked. Should he get out of the bed and risk fumbling for his clothes on the floor? Better just to go downstairs and get more from his bag.
Another problem: she’d been able to get into bed with him, and he’d registered her only peripherally, but he was considerably larger. If he moved, she’d notice.
Damn.
A bad situation. He’d just have to choose one of the equally bad options.
As carefully as he could, Jonas lifted the covers...
* * *
ALLIE’S EYES SHOT open in the dark. What the hell was that? The mattress had moved. She swore it had.
It moved again.
Erik.
She was going to kill him.
No, torture him, and then kill him.
Of all the sleazy....
She tore out her earplugs, unaware the storm had gotten so bad. Why hadn’t she brought a flashlight?
Lightning provided what she needed: a view of Erik, in bed next to her! The jerk!
She didn’t think twice, turned and shoved him with her feet as hard as she could. He shot off the bed and landed with a thud on the floor.
“Ow!”
Served him right. “What the hell do you think you’re trying to pull?”
“Nothing!”
“For God’s sake, Erik,” she shouted. Honestly. The only thing stupider than a horny guy was...an amoeba.
“I’m not Erik,” he bellowed. A flash of lightning showed that he’d stood up. He wasn’t wearing anything. And he wasn’t Erik.
Jeez-o-Pete. The Meyer slimeball brothers. What had Jonas thought? A few friendly emails meant he could just sneak into her bedroom and—
She blinked, her brain catching up to her eyeballs. What a great body.
“What are you doing here? You’re not even supposed to be here. Especially not naked!”
The rain slacked off abruptly, leaving her last word shrieked into relative silence.
“Allie.” Lightning showed him holding the bedspread over his best bits. “I didn’t know you were in here. I came to the cottage so I wouldn’t bother you and Erik, arriving at the big house so late.”
Her breath was still coming fast. She didn’t know when she’d experienced such a huge adrenaline rush, first fear, then anger. So it took a while for his words to sink in. To process them. To make them appear possible. The rain calmed further.
“Just hang on. Let me get dressed and find a light.”
She waited, trying to understand what had happened. She’d been asleep. Had woken up, needing to use the bathroom. Had trouble finding it, trouble using it in the total darkness. Made her way carefully back, annoyed at the lightning for holding off when she needed its brilliance. She’d gotten back into bed and sensed him when he moved.
She heard a thud, followed by a curse. Allie grinned savagely in the dark, still shaky and breathless. Served him right. “Having fun?”
“Oh, yeah. Thanks. I’m sure I can just hobble for the rest of my life. Hold on, there’s a kerosene lamp over here somewhere.”
Long pause. Another thud. Another curse. Allie snorted. This sounded like a Three Stooges movie.
“You don’t have to enjoy my pain.”
“Oh, yes, I do.”
“There.” A glimmer as he struck a match, then fed the flame to the wick of a kerosene lamp and replaced the chimney. A soft glow filled the room and showed that he was now wearing jeans. And that he was even more gorgeous than she remembered, with Erik’s blue eyes and strong chin, but darker hair, thicker and curling.
No, no. Until he proved he didn’t deserve her fury and outrage, she could not risk melting into lust.
“So.” She crossed her arms over her chest, wishing he wasn’t getting his second view of her with advanced bedhead and no makeup, wearing a shapeless sleep shirt. “What happened?”
“My dinner appointment tonight canceled, I texted Erik that I was coming. I arrived, came up here, got into bed and you joined me.” He lifted his hands and let them slap down on his thighs. Long, solid, very nice thighs. Not that she was looking. “Nice to see you again, by the way.”
“Well...oh.” What was she supposed to do with that story? So devoid of evil or plot or menace of any kind. Almost disappointing.
“I’m sorry I scared you, Allie. If it’s any consolation, I nearly had a heart attack when I saw you next to me. I thought I was alone in here, had started drifting off, listening to the rain, then the lightning flashed and guess what?” He mimed comic terror, clutching his chest, mouth hanging open, eyes bulging with shock.
Allie smiled unwillingly and shrugged, her breathing slowing down. “Well, I guess it’s just a big, weird mess.”
“I guess.” He was standing by the bed watching her, hands on his hips, jeans slung low, chest bare. She hugged herself more tightly, hoping she was covering her nipples adequately because they were reaching for him like baby birds for Mama.
The silence stretched. She had a sudden fantasy of him lunging for her, dragging her down on the bed and covering her mouth with his, her breasts with his hands, her—
“You want a beer or something?”
“Yes.” Her breath rushed out in relief. “I would love a beer or something.”
“Clarissa usually leaves some in the fridge downstairs. Let’s check it out.”
Carrying the kerosene lamp, he led the way downstairs, accompanied by a distant growl of