head.
There.
Allie smiled at her reflection. The outfit not only felt entirely comfortable, but also entirely her—not as if she was dressing up in a costume from another era—but as if she was putting on an outfit bought for herself. Maybe it was her longtime obsession with vintage clothes, but clearly she was at ease indulging a spectacular Great Gatsby moment. And why not?
She liked her own century very much, thanks, with progress on women’s issues and advances in health care, but she’d love to have experienced the exuberance of the 1920s. Especially as someone with Josephine’s money, class and confidence. This woman could meet the queen of England and not have a thing to hide.
Turning away from the mirror, Allie scooped up the ice bucket and glasses and headed for the door, her steps firm, her mind clear and directed, channeling Josephine’s quest to seduce Walter. Except Allie wasn’t after marriage. Someday she’d find a man who had worked as hard as she had to build a successful life, who understood where she’d been and why it was so important to her to get out. Together, they’d build a true partnership. On this quest, however, she was quite happy to settle for Jonas’s superb body.
Passing the kitchen as quietly as possible, she overheard Erik and Sandra having what sounded like an earnest discussion. Out in the fading light, she walked the straight line to the cottage leisurely and purposefully. At the door, she knocked and took a step back, calm smile in place.
Where had she gotten this much sangfroid? This much courage? She’d spent most of her adult life pretending she was more refined than she was, but never to this degree. Plus, she was about to seduce a man she barely knew—a calm, conscious decision, made in hot blood. Allie had never come close to doing something like this. Maybe the clothes had turned her into a new woman?
Never mind. She had the courage, and she was loving every second of it. That was all she needed to know.
“Hey, the party’s arrived.” Jonas’s surprise gave way to a thorough inspection and a slow, appreciative grin. “Wow. Look at you. You’re beautiful. It’s as if that outfit was made for you.”
“Thank you.” She held his gaze, a cool smile in place, though her cheeks were warming with pleasure at his compliment. He must have just showered. Damp, dark hair curled around his face, his blue eyes vivid against skin warmed by the sun. Around his mouth and on his cheeks, the barest hint of beard showed he’d shaved for their after-dinner date. He wore loose, comfortable shorts and an unbuttoned blue-and-white patterned shirt through which his very nice chest showed.
“Guess I’m underdressed.” He backed into the cottage, buttoning his shirt. She thought about stopping him, but decided it would be more fun to unbutton it herself again later. “Come on in. I was about to pull out beer for us, but for some strange reason I’m now thinking champagne...”
“Me, too. Same strange reason I bet.” She let him take the bucket. “Can we sit out on the deck?”
“Absolutely, Ms. McDonald. It’s a beautiful night. Though there’s not much room out there for the Charleston.” He led the way through the sliding door out onto the deck and set the bucket on the table. Perfect. They had a fabulous view of the lake, but Sandra and Erik couldn’t see them from the house unless they came down to the beach, which was unlikely.
Jonas removed the bottle from its ice bedding and began twisting off the cage, staring at her the whole time. “Is it okay if I can’t take my eyes off you?”
“I think it’s fine.” She made a slow turn to show off the dress. When she came around again, Jonas was still holding the bottle, having made no progress opening it.
Oh, this was going to be fun.
“Need help with the cork?” she asked sweetly.
“Uh, no.” He busied himself again. “But men’s brains can only handle one thing at a time. Where are Erik and
There.
Allie smiled at her reflection. The outfit not only felt entirely comfortable, but also entirely her—not as if she was dressing up in a costume from another era—but as if she was putting on an outfit bought for herself. Maybe it was her longtime obsession with vintage clothes, but clearly she was at ease indulging a spectacular Great Gatsby moment. And why not?
She liked her own century very much, thanks, with progress on women’s issues and advances in health care, but she’d love to have experienced the exuberance of the 1920s. Especially as someone with Josephine’s money, class and confidence. This woman could meet the queen of England and not have a thing to hide.
Turning away from the mirror, Allie scooped up the ice bucket and glasses and headed for the door, her steps firm, her mind clear and directed, channeling Josephine’s quest to seduce Walter. Except Allie wasn’t after marriage. Someday she’d find a man who had worked as hard as she had to build a successful life, who understood where she’d been and why it was so important to her to get out. Together, they’d build a true partnership. On this quest, however, she was quite happy to settle for Jonas’s superb body.
Passing the kitchen as quietly as possible, she overheard Erik and Sandra having what sounded like an earnest discussion. Out in the fading light, she walked the straight line to the cottage leisurely and purposefully. At the door, she knocked and took a step back, calm smile in place.
Where had she gotten this much sangfroid? This much courage? She’d spent most of her adult life pretending she was more refined than she was, but never to this degree. Plus, she was about to seduce a man she barely knew—a calm, conscious decision, made in hot blood. Allie had never come close to doing something like this. Maybe the clothes had turned her into a new woman?
Never mind. She had the courage, and she was loving every second of it. That was all she needed to know.
“Hey, the party’s arrived.” Jonas’s surprise gave way to a thorough inspection and a slow, appreciative grin. “Wow. Look at you. You’re beautiful. It’s as if that outfit was made for you.”
“Thank you.” She held his gaze, a cool smile in place, though her cheeks were warming with pleasure at his compliment. He must have just showered. Damp, dark hair curled around his face, his blue eyes vivid against skin warmed by the sun. Around his mouth and on his cheeks, the barest hint of beard showed he’d shaved for their after-dinner date. He wore loose, comfortable shorts and an unbuttoned blue-and-white patterned shirt through which his very nice chest showed.
“Guess I’m underdressed.” He backed into the cottage, buttoning his shirt. She thought about stopping him, but decided it would be more fun to unbutton it herself again later. “Come on in. I was about to pull out beer for us, but for some strange reason I’m now thinking champagne...”
“Me, too. Same strange reason I bet.” She let him take the bucket. “Can we sit out on the deck?”
“Absolutely, Ms. McDonald. It’s a beautiful night. Though there’s not much room out there for the Charleston.” He led the way through the sliding door out onto the deck and set the bucket on the table. Perfect. They had a fabulous view of the lake, but Sandra and Erik couldn’t see them from the house unless they came down to the beach, which was unlikely.
Jonas removed the bottle from its ice bedding and began twisting off the cage, staring at her the whole time. “Is it okay if I can’t take my eyes off you?”
“I think it’s fine.” She made a slow turn to show off the dress. When she came around again, Jonas was still holding the bottle, having made no progress opening it.
Oh, this was going to be fun.
“Need help with the cork?” she asked sweetly.
“Uh, no.” He busied himself again. “But men’s brains can only handle one thing at a time. Where are Erik and
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