Nothing To Hide Cover

Nothing to Hide

How much vintage lingerie does it take to seduce a billionaire? 

Designer Allie McDonald is lured up to the elegant Meyer family compound on  Lake George in New York state with promises of first dibs on an attic full of generations of fabulous vintage clothes and accessories.  She’s glad Jonas Meyer will be there to protect her from his playboy brother Erik’s advances.  But one look at the very sexy Jonas makes her think he’ll be the one needing protection—from her. 

Jonas has spent his life disapproving of the way his younger brother goes after women.  But even a few days with Allie have made it clear he’s capable of the same obsession.  His last girlfriend turned out to be after his money instead of his heart.  How can he be sure Allie is different?  Especially when she’s so generous with her body and so careful about her past?

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Lightning flashed.

Huh?  In Jonas’s peripheral vision, he could have sworn . . .

It flashed again. 

What the—


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’d crawled into bed with her?

He stared at the blackness, frozen in surprise, heart pounding. 

What now?

Maybe she didn’t know he was here.  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.

Other 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.


This was 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.


She was going to kill him.

No, torture him, then kill him.

Of all the sleazy . . . .

She tore out her earplugs, unaware the storm had gotten quite 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 he could.  He shot off the bed and landed with a thud on the floor.


Served him right.  “What the hell do you think you’re trying to pull?”


“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 was not wearing anything. 

And he was not Erik.