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Peripherally, I see her chewing a grape.
Acid churns in my gut as I swivel my gaze out to the lake where gentle swells lap against the shore. A seagull swoops low overhead, its cry sharp and high. The tranquility of the setting seems out of place considering the turmoil in my life. With Erica, I feel freer and less anxious. Well, except when she chastises me for breaking the rules I set for our…whatever this is. I can't believe Erica is anything like Aisley, but taking that risk seems too dangerous.
While I'm ruminating on the lake and my life, Erica wolfs down half of her sandwich. She grabs a water bottle from the basket and gulps some of its contents, her fingers coiled around the bottle, her thumb circling over its ridged surface to smooth out droplets of condensation. "Scotland always looks beautiful in the movies."
"It is beautiful." I finish off my sandwich in two bites. "Can't believe you've never been to Scotland."
"Never been outside the contiguous United States."
"What a shame."
I pick up a grape and hold it near her lips.
She parts them to let me place the grape on her tongue and seals her mouth around the fruit. Her lips ensnare the tip of my finger.
For a long moment, we simply stare into each other's eyes.
Then she suckles my finger.
My breaths grow uneven, and a strange excitement electrifies my skin.
Erica releases my finger.
Christ, I love it too much when she teases me.
With one fingertip, I trace a path around the rim of her mouth. "You'd love Scotland. It's a land of passionate, fiercely independent men and women. A lass like you would fit right in."
She snatches up a napkin to wipe her mouth and forces a polite smile. "Maybe someday I will visit Scotland."
Casey yanks on the leash, jerking me forward. I grunt and wrestle the leash's handle out from under my erse, then give it a sharp tug. Casey trots back to us, lying down between me and Erica.
She tears off a piece of her sandwich and tosses it to Casey. The pup catches it with a snap of his jaws.
I absently rake my fingers through the sand. "Where did you grow up?"
"Isn't that off-limits?"
"Told you about my background."
"So you did. I was born in Linwood, a small town just outside of Kansas City—on the Kansas side, not Missouri. We were average, middle-class people. Me, the only child, with two loving parents. We moved to Chicago when I was fourteen." She starts to take another bite, then changes her mind and sets the sandwich down. "I'm pretty boring, really. Girl accountant, obsessed with facts and figures, friendless, loved by my parents and my dog."
"You have friends. Gil and Jayne, for certain."
"Yeah, but no one else. I'm the invisible woman."
I pause while holding a grape near my lips, and study her while I try to figure out why she feels invisible. "I'm sure someone else loves you. A beautiful woman such as yourself must have a horde of admirers."
"Nope. No adoring admirers. I'm as boring as most of my exes."
"You have had exciting lovers, then."
"Not lovers. Boyfriends."
I fling the grape into my mouth. Somehow, hearing she's had lovers before me triggers a need to batter every single one of them. Once I've chewed and swallowed the grape, I ask, "What's the difference? If you sleep with them, they're your lovers."
"The term implies an arrangement like ours—sex without commitment or attachments. I cared for my boyfriends." She grimaces. "Even the gorgeous ones."
"Whyeventhem?"
