Nothing to Hide

Allie had left that morning for her interview in New York. Jonas had left to go back to Boston soon after. He’d be taking his vacation day another time—when Allie was free to join him. They seemed right together, and she was happy for Jonas. Her jealousy had completely subsided, partly because Erik...well, Erik was fun. Really fun. Jonas had been fun in a more subdued way. She felt safe with him, knowing she could depend on him for anything, that he was a rock-solid kind of guy. Eventually she might have gotten bored.

But Erik was exciting. A bit dangerous. Not because he had a cruel bone in his body from what she could tell, more puppy than pit bull, but because if they made any kind of committed relationship out of this, she’d have to work to keep him. That uncertainty would make some women crazy, but Sandra was pretty sure she needed that excitement to stay interested herself.

Her husband, Edwin, had been controlling, jealous and obsessed with her. Jake, her boyfriend after that, had been the same. Erik seemed to accept her and her sexuality as thrilling, not threatening. They were turning out to have a lot in common.

“This is Amaro CioCiaro, an orange-flavored liqueur, slightly bitter.” He pulled out the cork and poured two generous measures into tiny curving glasses that looked as though they’d shatter if you sneezed on them. “Amaro means ‘bitter’ in Italian. But because it’s a liqueur, the bitterness is balanced by a sweetness.”

“Sounds delicious, Professor Boozy.”

“It is.” He handed her a glass, his eyes warm. “And so are you.”

“Well, thank you.” She knew better than to melt under what was probably reflex charm, but it was a nice compliment. She’d worn a red clingy top that wasn’t particularly revealing, but she knew the shade set off her dark coloring well. “You’re looking quite edible yourself.”

He was wearing a blue-and-white Indonesian print shirt, cheerful and summery but of course in exquisite taste, over khaki shorts. His arms and legs were muscular, as if he worked on his body more than his casual I’m-so-lazy attitude would lead one to think.

She sipped the drink, finding it intensely flavored, a fascinating combination of bitter and sweet.

“Like it?”

“I do.” She walked up to him and put a hand on his chest, her suspicions confirmed by well-shaped pectoral muscles. “Hey, what’s this? I’m thinking gym membership.”

He blinked, in the middle of a sip of amaro, and then recovered. “You are, huh?”

“Am I right?”

“If I say yes, does that count as telling you a secret?”

“Not in a million years.”

“Yes.” He took her hand and led her out on the house’s screened-in porch, where he seated her on an upholstered bench swing and plunked down next to her. Close.

So. They’d start now. She was still a bit...off, and she couldn’t quite figure out why, but over her lifetime she’d become an expert at faking confidence she didn’t feel. Came in handy quite often, actually.

“Well, Erik.” She lifted her legs and swung them across his lap, arranging herself comfortably against the side cushion on the swing. “Tell me everything.”

“Okay, then. Everything coming up.” He took another sip, put his glass down and laid his hands on her bare shins, caressing them up and down, almost absently. “Starting with tonight’s secret, Secret Number One.”

“I’m ready.”

“When I was a young teenager, I was bored here. My parents were pretty strict. Jonas hung out with a few kids close to his age, mostly older. I was the little brother they didn’t want around.”

“Ouch.” She could picture him, maybe a little chubby, hiding his hurt at being left out.

“Aw, it was just basic kid stuff.” He picked up her leg and started a gentle massage of the muscles in her calf. “But I was lonely and pissed off about it. There was a general store not too far from here, about a mile down the road, where the gas station and convenience store are now. It was old-school. You could buy nonperishable groceries, raincoats, fishing gear, hardware items, a few toys, stuff like that. There was a great assortment of candy up in the front next to the register, and behind it were shelves with magazines and personal pharmacy stuff.

“The owner had a son about my age. I hated this kid for no reason except he was skinny and weird-looking and had to spend his summer working in his father’s store.”

“Perfect anger target for that summer.”

“A couple of summers.” He shook his head, picked up her other leg and continued his massage.

“Hey, Erik?” She trailed her fingers down his arm. “Can I hire you to come home with me and do that every night?”