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“You just leave everything up to Josephine and me.”
8
“NOW THIS?” Erik poured remarkably steadily from yet another bottle he’d excavated from the depths of his parents’ liquor cabinet “?is a very fine tequila, the highest grade, extra a?ejo, which means—”
“Don’t tell me, let me guess.” Sandra held up her hand. She was enjoying Erik’s company tonight much more than she’d expected to. Of course trying about ten different kinds of the highest-quality aperitifs, wines and liqueurs could make just about any situation pleasant. But aside from trying too hard to impress her, he was clearly intelligent and knowledgeable. She felt strangely at home with him in a way she never quite had with his brother. With Jonas she’d always been aware of the class difference that didn’t really exist between them. “Extra aged.”
Erik banged his hand on the kitchen counter between them. “Ten points for the woman in the sexy shorts and outrageously low-cut top!”
“Ding, ding, ding! Get her a prize!” She hoisted her glass to him, then let a small sip of the exquisite amber liquid past her lips. “Ooh. Nirvana in a glass.”
“Don Julio Real. You’re drinking about twelve bucks’ worth right there.”
“This?” She had about an ounce in her glass. “This itty bitty little drop?”
“It’s not cheap.” A beat later he realized she was playing him. “Hey, cut that out.”
“What?” She blinked innocently, then dropped the act. “Nothing is cheap in this house and you know it.”
“You hate that, don’t you?” He swirled his glass, held it to the light, took a slow, careful sip and closed his eyes ecstatically. “Ah, que magnífico!”
“No, I don’t hate that. I just don’t always see the point.” She took a larger swallow, strangely tempted to tell him the truth, that she’d grown up in a mega-mansion in Greens Farms, Connecticut, sullen and rebellious, loathing her parents’ worship of the almighty dollar. And look at her now, kneeling at the same altar. “Except this stuff. If I had your money I’d buy this, too.”
“Take a bottle with you when you go.” He gestured to the glass-fronted cherry cabinet.
“Really?” She tipped her head. “So what, you’re my sugar daddy now?”
“Sandra.” He concentrated hard on her face. “You drive me crazy. I hope you know that.”
“Sexually?”
“Sure. Sure.” He nodded enthusiastically. “But also because I can’t tell when you’re kidding. It keeps me off balance.”
“Ah.” His admission surprised her. “You need to feel safe with a woman.”
“I usually do.” He winked at her. “But I don’t need to right now. You’re exciting.”
“Well.” Sandra lifted her chin, feeling a bit breathless. “Good to hear.”
“Why, you want to excite me?”
“Absolutely. And for the record, I was kidding about you being my sugar daddy. If you want to spend money on me, all you have to do is...” She took a slow sip of tequila. “Marry me.”
Erik laughed at that, as she hoped he would. A warm laugh. A nice one. She joined him because it felt so good to laugh with someone. And because she was starting to like him more and more, as she unearthed bits of him that were worth more than the rich guy who lived to get laid.
“Money is great, but the cliché is true, it don’t buy happiness. Not the kind that lasts, anyway. I can get a high from a cool new toy, a new computer, a new phone, being the first to own brand-new technology. Or from a new woman, or a trip to somewhere I’ve never been. But when I get tired of the toy, the woman moves on or I return home, I’m back where I started.” His features darkened. “That’s what Allie was about. A shot at a life with real value—something lasting and important. I’m tired of being a rich playboy.”
Sandra lifted a cynical eyebrow. “Then give it up.”
“Not that tired.”
“Right.” She understood more than he knew. Easy to complain about money when you had plenty. “The gift you love to hate.”
“I know. It’s hard to understand when you’re...” He stopped abruptly.
“Lower class?” She put her hand on his to stop his protest. “I do understand, Erik. But Allie isn’t going to make your life perfect.”
“I thought she’d be really good for me. I still do.”
