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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.
    * * *
    A LLIE 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