Читать книгу Total Package - Cait London, Cait London - Страница 8

Sidney Blakely fascinated Danya; every sensual molecule in his body had fastened onto that small curvaceous body.

He really should feel guilty—after all, if he hadn’t been enjoying her so much, he would have worked harder to correct her “jumper” image of him. But the need to explore Sidney Blakely more was too irresistible to ignore.

She had absolutely no idea how appealing she was, nor how she had aroused him…he concluded as she mounted the steps to the cabin ahead of him.

His hands ached to cup her bottom, to feel that softness, as the scent of her tightened every muscle in his body. The immediate need to stake his claim on this woman surprised him.

She was not wearing any underclothing.

On the cabin porch, she looked around to see the wind chimes made of spoons, and a delicate fingertip reached to toy with them. A woman who had lived with men, communicated on their no-nonsense level, Sidney liked to keep her options open. “I could sleep right here, listening to the ocean.”

He wanted her in his bed—now. “It will rain soon. You’ll keep drier inside, and you could sleep in—if you’re not shooting tomorrow.”

“Oh, that sounds so good. I’ve been missing sleep.”

He understood perfectly; Sidney had come to Kamakani’s grave site to discuss her ill-fated love for “Mr. Rabbit.”

Danya thought of making slow, soft love to her, of waking up to her and moving into her, and his body tightened painfully. After all these years of emptiness, why this special woman? Why tonight?

Inside the cabin, Sidney looked around at the Spartan furnishings—the big solid Stepanov bed and dresser, a plain table and two chairs, a kitchenette. She walked to the tiny bathroom and peeked inside. “Great,” she stated approvingly.

“Sid?” Danya unfurled her sleeping bag and placed it against a corner of the room. He could see her plainly now, the practical short hair cut. Her eyes were dark brown and large, almost like a fawn’s, her lashes sweeping shadows down that pale soft skin. She wore no cosmetics, and he ached to taste that slender throat, to nibble on those small ears.

His body knew it had been years since he’d made love to a woman, awakening now to the twin peaks of her breasts, nudging the heavy sweatshirt.

“Yeah?” She was stretching and yawning and Danya ached to hold that small shapely body tight against him. She rotated her head and bent to touch her toes several times and the cargo pants tightened over her curved backside.

He ached to be inside, filling her—

“I thought you might like this.” He reached down to a laundry basket on the floor and pulled out a folded T-shirt, tossing it to her.

Sidney came close to study the framed picture on the dresser, a young Danya and his bride, just after their wedding. “I’m so sorry,” she said, reaching to touch his back and when she looked up at him, her eyes spoke more than words. “She’s beautiful.”

“Yes, very beautiful. A treasure of the heart. I will keep her always there,” he said solemnly, meaning it.

“That’s beautiful, Danya. But you’ve got to live your life. If I go to sleep, you won’t do anything rash, will you?”

He shook his head. “I’m too tired. Emotions, you know. I don’t suppose you could—no…I won’t ask.”

Danya almost felt guilty—but not quite as Sidney’s expressive eyes filled with him. “What, Danya?”

“Could I hold you?”

Instantly she was alert and stepping back warily from him. “Whoa, champ. I’m not the girl you want.”

She was exactly the woman he wanted. “Sorry. I get the need sometimes to hold a woman. Just hold her, and I don’t know why, but women get ideas and the next thing you know—”

She seemed to relax. “Human touch, right?”

Sidney stepped closer with the determined air of one who is sacrificing. “Hold me. Do it, now. You’ve got thirty seconds.”

Danya eased her against him, rested his chin over hers, and inhaled her fragrance and closed his eyes, focusing on the fit, the feel of her in his arms. Inside, where his heart had been cold and hurt, the warmth of pleasure and delight began—

“Time’s over,” Sidney said, pushing away.

He forced himself to release her. “Thanks. I feel better now.”

“Yeah, well.” She cleared her throat and backed away, her expression wary as she bent to collect her things. She turned and hurried into the bathroom.

Danya rubbed his stubble-covered jaw. At three o’clock in the morning, there was nothing he wanted to do more than cuddle Sidney Blakely. With a sigh, Danya turned off the lights, undressed and slid into his lonely bed.

Inside the bathroom, Sidney quickly undressed and slid on her comfortable boxer shorts and Danya’s overlarge T-shirt. She was shaking.

She’d wanted to nail him, to stake him out on that big bed and have him. Sexual impulses didn’t come to her often—maybe never. Sex with Ben, her only lover to date, had been too fast and had left her simmering.

The poor guy was thinking about suicide and mourning his wife, and Sidney was thinking about how good he felt up close and that just maybe she might get a good photo layout of him. She was scum to even think about nabbing him and curling up to that nice big hard warm body—She shook her head. There was no way she would take advantage of a sweet man like that, using him for her own satisfaction.

She was just tired and emotional, she decided as she left the bathroom and found the main room dark and cozy. A pillow and a sheet lay on her sleeping bag and it looked like heaven.

Danya’s broad back was turned to her and Sidney spread the sheet over the bag, slid onto it, and folded the rest of the sheet over her. She punched the pillow into shape and with the ease of someone who took what she could get on the spot, quickly dropped into sleep.

Danya listened to her deep easy breathing and turned to look at the slight, curved shadow on the floor. The sheet had slid from her bare leg and her hands were up by her face, almost like a child’s.

He eased from his bed and walked to crouch and study the woman who had no idea how much she fascinated him…. Her lips were generous and soft, slightly parted; her lashes swept shadows down that fine pale skin.

A compassionate woman, she’d endangered herself to rescue someone she thought might leap to his death. Unfamiliar with caresses or letting her body rest against a man’s, she’d still let him hold her; she’d touched him because she thought he needed the warmth of another human.

But on the rebound, Sidney wasn’t in the market for romance, and that was just what Danya had in mind.

It would take all his willpower to treat her as a friend, when he really wanted to make love with her. He scanned the curved line of her body beneath the sheet, his hand aching to skim that warmth.

Very little kept him from carrying her to his bed, where she belonged; very little kept him from holding her safe and warm, to cherish her.

To move into a relationship with this brusque, but caring woman, would be no easy task. She’d been wounded by a former lover and was wary of men, but Danya intended to be very patient and he intended to have her as his own….

Sidney awoke to the scent of coffee and the sight of Danya, holding a cup and staring off into the morning rain battering the cabin’s window. He wore only his jeans, his back broad and tanned in the dim light. The pose, the blend of shadow and light would have been wonderful for a photograph, that waving hair softening his hard profile, that jaw darkened by stubble. He looked thoughtful, grim and fierce.

“So how’s it going, buddy?” Sidney asked after yawning and stretching. “Feeling better?”

Apparently still deep in thought, he nodded. Sidney rose to her feet, shuffled to the kitchenette to pour herself a cup of coffee. She took a sweet roll from the plastic container, and walked to stand beside him. “Thanks for last night…letting me crash here, I mean.”

“Sure.”

Rain pounded the windows, the dim light outside casting shadows on Danya’s hard face; his mood seemed to match the elements outside. “Are you going to be okay today?”

“Yes. Alexi and I are remodeling, adding a family room onto a house. You can stay here, if you want, Sid. I mean, you can move in with me, if you want, to escape those models. It’s up to you. But there could be gossip. People might think that we were lovers.”

She studied the shadows beneath his eyes, the look of a man who had been through hell, who had been on some invisible edge, fighting the tethers that bound him. “I’ve bunked with men before.”

Danya inhaled suddenly, then released his breath slowly. He looked at her and his eyes were the color of blue ice. “This is different. I don’t want you to have problems.”

She’d heard that the Stepanov males were very gallant, but manners and female-male role playing weren’t for her; they just cluttered up life and took time she didn’t have. “The only problem I am going to have is that darned windup dance and social thingie at the end of this shoot. Marvelous Calendars insists on it. All the bigwigs are going to come down and I’ve got orders to look like a woman—put on a dress and makeup and everything. I’m supposed to bring a date.”

“That is rough.”

“Real rough. You’d think if I do a good job—and I do—that would be all that was required, but oh, no. I have to mix with the brass and schmooze with the models and be one of the girls. I am going to have to dance with the execs—in dress shoes, not boots.”

“Torture,” he agreed softly.

“You know it. If the weather clears, we’ve got about two, three days fast shooting and then I’m doomed.” Sidney yawned and stretched and settled into enjoy her momentary reprieve from the models. She ate the sweet roll and sipped her coffee, then she licked her fingers. Danya had been studying her intensely and his body was tense next to hers; his breathing seemed to be controlled, rather than natural. She’d been remiss not to offer him a bite; she was used to sharing whatever was at hand. “Want some?” she asked, holding up her sweet roll to him.

His hand wrapped around her wrist as he bent to take a bite, but his eyes never left hers. They were vividly blue and shadowed with heavy lashes. He straightened, still studying her, his thumb caressing her inner wrist. “About Ben. You loved him?”

Sidney was uncomfortable with that slow caress, but if the guy needed contact, she could give him that. “I still do, the rat. I’m going back to bed, if it’s okay with you.”

“My bed,” he said quietly, watching her. “I’ll be gone. You might as well use it. You’ve got sugar on your fingers—shame to waste it.”

Sidney watched, riveted as Danya’s dark head bent and his warm mouth closed over each fingertip, sucking it.

The quivery sensations shot up her arm and down her body to lodge low in her belly; her mouth dried and her throat tightened as she stared at him. When Danya’s head lifted, he smiled at her and her heart did some flip-flop thing. “No finger licking,” she said unevenly.

“But it would be a shame to waste, would it not?” His voice was deep and intimate, his phrasing formal.

“I guess it’s okay this time.”

Danya had kept her hand, holding it as they turned to watch the dim morning, rain slashing the windows.

Sidney held very still. She was very aware of him, of how large his body was to hers, of his body heat, of his hand, rough against hers. “So, chum. Are you going to be okay today? I mean, if I go to sleep, will you be okay?”

“Of course. I have work to do. Work is good. You are welcome here.”

“Thanks. Maybe I will sleep in. A good morning for that.”

He seemed to tense, and those blue eyes flashed down at her. “Yes,” Danya said unevenly, “A very good morning for staying in bed.”

Danya tried to focus on the cabinets his brother and he were installing into the family room addition, but his mind was on Sidney—lying in his bed.

At three o’clock in the afternoon, the day was clearing, and he’d already had several calls on his cell phone from his obviously amused family—Sidney had seemed concerned for him and was hunting him. She’d been to the Stepanov Furniture factory, talked with Fadey and Viktor, Danya’s father, who had found her to be fresh and delightful. She’d taken pictures of Fadey and Viktor in a spirited folk dance, and she’d joined them in it. Danya’s father said he had hugged her—a traditional big bear hug, kissing both sides of her cheeks, and “she felt like a sweet little bird in his arms, before she squirmed away.”

According to Mikhail’s report, she’d worked in her suite at the Amoteh Resort, requesting a sandwich from room service. Alexi’s cell phone had rung several times, and from his brother’s expression, Danya knew that the entire family was watching the “Sidney situation.” She had been careful to ask that someone was with him and to pinpoint his quitting time. She’d murmured something obscure, “He’s a lonely kind of guy. I really don’t think he should be left alone.”

Mikhail and Jarek, Danya’s cousins, were sitting on sawhorses now, using the excuse of a coffee break to come to the remodeling project. Apparently their wives were seeking information about the woman Danya had brought back to his cabin, and needed their husbands to scout for information. Danya didn’t want the whole Stepanov clan to descend upon Sidney, frightening her away. “She is…unusual…sweet…and completely unaware that she is so—feminine and fascinating. She considers us to be buddies. I prefer to keep it that way.”

“Of course,” Mikhail agreed firmly. “I’ve met her. She’s fast moving, thorough, and completely professional. She doesn’t want a man opening a door for her, but she will open them for a man—quite unusual woman, eats on the run and seems in perpetual motion. The models like her, but she doesn’t want any ‘hugging, sloppy stuff,’ as she says. She strikes me as a person who is more of an observer of life, rather than one who actually lives with day-to-day relationships.”

“Not a clue that you want her, hmm?” Jarek asked.

“She’s just been hurt by man who married someone else. I met her up on Strawberry Hill last night and she needed a place to stay away from the resort. I intend to give her time to adjust to a comfortable relationship.”

Alexi grinned broadly. “So this is it, huh?”

“Maybe.” Danya glanced at a movement outside the windows and noted Sidney tramping along the shoreline, dressed in her camouflage cargo pants and hooded jacket, a camera bag slung from her shoulder. She stopped, faced the ocean and quickly, expertly, extracted her large camera from the bag. Her movements on the beach said that she was shooting pictures.

Alexi, Mikhail and Jarek came to stand beside Danya. “I think she’s coming to collect you,” Alexi stated with humor in his tone.

“If she asked your quitting time, that’s a possibility,” Mikhail noted.

Danya watched that small taut body, poised against sand and ocean and forced himself to breathe quietly, though his heart was quickening and his body had tensed, eager for her to come to him.

“You’re getting that definite hot-and-bothered look, cousin,” Jarek added with a chuckle.

“Say anything about that, and you won’t be invited to the wedding.” Danya folded his arms and leveled a look at his brother and cousins. “Tell your wives this is a very tricky situation. Sidney hasn’t a clue. I would appreciate their cooperation.”

Alexi shook his head. “You mean, you want our wives to keep their distance, as if that’s possible. They’ve been worrying about you for months now, since you moved and they got you under their wings. You scooped them, cousin, found your own woman and that leaves them with little to do.”

Danya picked a baby rattle from Alexi’s pocket and shook it lightly. “Your wife had a baby, Jarek has two, and Mikhail has three. I would say that is enough to keep them busy…just for a time. Please ask them.”

Mikhail drew a deep breath. “It might not be possible to stop them. They’re having tea at my house now.”

“Sidney isn’t the tea and sewing kind. I’ve asked her to move in with me. I’ll baby-sit for a week a piece if you can keep them off her for just a bit. Think of a holiday alone with your wives.”

Jarek whistled softly. “Fast work.”

“Put your feet down. Make your wives toe the line, men,” Danya added with a chuckle. “As if you could. You’re all wrapped up around their little fingers.”

“Just wait, cousin,” Mikhail warned with a grin and glanced out of the window. “She’s getting closer.”

The four men watched Sidney march up the shoreline toward the house; they hurried to act busy.

No one answered her knock at the new door, but Sidney could hear saws buzzing. She noted the fresh scent of lumber, the Stepanov Building pickup parked at one end of the private home. The barren new windows and new door marked the new addition.

She opened the door, scanned the jumble of tools and working men and waited for someone to notice her. When the men continued working and the saw didn’t stop, she yelled, “Danya!”

When he didn’t respond, she decided he couldn’t hear her over the sound of the saw and hammers. Sidney opened the door wider and peered inside. The four tall men continued to work. She stepped inside and closed the door. Amid the flying sawdust, Danya was standing on a ladder, fitting a shelf into a built-in ceiling-to-floor bookcase.

The man at the table saw noted her and flipped it off. He removed his safety glasses, and his eyes were as blue as Danya’s. “Yes?” he asked politely.

Danya was hammering the board into place. The other two men were working together, putting up dry wall panels.

“Is Danya Stepanov here?” Sidney asked the blue-eyed man politely. His rugged face was similar to Danya’s, but then so were the other men’s. She already knew that Danya was there, because his butt was fine and taut within his jeans and she couldn’t take her eyes off it. She itched to use her camera; she could just imagine how much a magazine would pay for that…or maybe that broad muscled back, without his shirt, of course. Who was she kidding? Pictures weren’t on her mind; she just wanted to run her hands over that back and butt and maybe other things, too. She usually methodically considered the specific shot, focusing on the shadows, the angles, backgrounds—but now, her whole body was considering the very touchable textures of the man.

“He is busy.”

“I see that. I want to talk with him.”

“It’s only a little while until quitting. If you’re his girlfriend, you’ll have to wait.”

“Listen, Bud. I’m not his girlfriend, I just want to talk with him.” Sidney never wasted time. She walked to Danya, who seemed very intent on his work and yelled, “Danya, get your butt down here. I want to talk with you.”

He seemed surprised as he turned to look down at her. “Oh…hi, Sid. What’s up?”

She noted that all of a sudden, the three other men were watching her. She moved closer so that they wouldn’t hear the conversation. She had to stand on tiptoe to whisper in Danya’s ear. He leaned down to her, and his hands rested lightly on her waist. His hands were big and firm and something inside her shimmered and warmed.

“Are you okay?” she asked, remembering how they met on Strawberry Hill, how he seemed to need to touch, to anchor himself to her and to life.

“I am fine,” he whispered back.

“Is that offer to move into your place still standing? It’s so quiet there. I slept like a log until after noon. I can use the resort’s suite for my work, so I won’t clutter up your place with my equipment.”

“The models again?”

Sidney tried not to look hunted. “They’re getting all warmed up for that party I don’t want to go to…. I’d pay rent.”

Danya frowned. “You insult me. You gave me comfort last night, and you think I would want pay?”

He was very close and scented of fresh wood. “So you’re okay with this? Is tonight okay?”

His gaze took in her face. “Tonight is excellent.”

Sidney realized that his hands were tightening, drawing her closer to him. His face was only inches from hers—probably better to hear her whisper. “What about your family? Will they mind?”

“No, I assure you, they will be most happy that you are with me.”

“Good.”

Danya turned her slowly in front of him, his hands still resting on her waist. “This is Alexi, my brother…my cousins, Jarek and Mikhail. Perhaps you have met Mikhail? This is Sidney Blakely. She’s the photographer for the models here.”

“Call me Sid.” She recognized the manager of the luxurious Amoteh Resort. In work clothing, he looked so different from the sleek businessman striding through the resort’s halls and expertly, quietly directing his staff. “Hi, Mikhail. Nice to meet you, guys. I’m just leaving. You can get back to work now.”

But each man came close, towering over her. They looked so much alike, but Mikhail’s and Jarek’s eyes were dark green, while Alexi’s eyes were as blue as Danya’s. Smaller than the men by several inches, Sidney glared up at them. “You guys should take better care of Danya,” she scolded.

“Oh, how so?” Alexi said as he frowned down at her.

“He’s a lonely sort of guy. Like tonight. I bet you could all invite him over to dinner, and you probably haven’t, right?”

The three men glanced over her head to Danya, seemed to be amused, then they shook their heads. “You are right,” Alexi said, “We forget about him at times.”

“I guess we are so comfortable in our own homes with our families that we forget he might need us,” Jarek murmured contritely.

“Shame on you,” Sidney scolded. “That is not very familylike.”

“You are absolutely right, Sid. How thoughtless of us,” Mikhail said firmly.

Sidney realized that she was holding Danya’s hand, his thumb caressing the back of hers. His other arm had gone around her, resting lightly on her waist. She seemed to fit naturally into the cove of his body as he drew her close and looked down at her. “Actually, Sid, it isn’t their fault. It’s mine. I’m kind of a loner. Sid, do you think I could cook something for us tonight—you and me, I mean?”

She frowned at his selfish family, who hadn’t thought to include him in their warmth, a guy who needed someone to keep him from that dangerous edge. His defense of them was just loyalty. “Sure. You do that. See you later.”

Sidney moved toward the door and Danya came to open it for her. “I can do that for myself,” she said. “I’m not helpless.”

“Of course. I should have known. I’ll come outside with you.”

Sidney opened the door, Danya went through it and she leveled a look at the three other tall men. “I thought I heard a laugh. What’s so funny?”

All three men held up their hands, their expressions innocent.

“Okay, then. At ease, men,” Sidney said and closed the door.

Danya was waiting for her, and his eyes were as blue as the clear sky. For a moment, Sidney’s mind went blank and she struggled to comprehend what he was saying: “What are you hungry for?”

“Whatever. You don’t have to cook though. Sandwiches are good. I’ll bring some home.”

“No. I will cook for you.”

Sidney took a deep breath and released the thought that had been hovering in her mind: “Danya, I know it is a lot to ask, but do you think you could turn up at the…the windup party and maybe act like you’re my date?”

“I would be honored.”

“Now, look. You don’t have to. You don’t owe me anything—”

“Sid. You can count on me,” he said firmly. “See you tonight. Whenever you come home is okay, no big deal.”

Relieved that she had found the required date, Sidney walked back up to the Amoteh Resort. Plus, she added, she was really doing Danya a favor by keeping his mind away from jumping off that cliff. She would at least have her nights free—no more models, no more threats of bikini waxes and eyebrow plucking, no sex stories.

The sky was clear now, children playing along the shoreline, tourists milling on the pier filled with shops, a sailboat lazily riding the waves.

One of the models nabbed her when she entered the resort’s pool area. Lelani Berry was a six-foot lithesome blonde, wearing two scraps that served as a bikini over her tanned, pampered body. Her expensively streaked long hair was perfectly tousled as she asked, “Hey, Sid, what are you wearing to the party?”

Then came the slow, sultry smile that hid a viperous mentality. “The next question is, who is your date? I heard you’d been ordered to bring one.”

“Got a date. Don’t know what I’m wearing.” Sidney maneuvered through the cluster of lounging chairs, draped with model bodies.

She almost made it through the gauntlet, when Storm Cameron, also six feet tall with a blond mane, caught her. “So, Sid. Who is he?”

Miss January, a hot-looking Latino model with masses of raven hair blocked Sidney’s passage to the hallway. Jennifer Mendez leaned against the wall and tapped her long painted nails on her cheek. “You’re going to need help, Shorty,” she said in her Bronx accent. “Dress, heels, that sort of thing. We’ve got our work cut out for us, ladies.”

Sidney shot her a dark look and then turned to the rest of the models who looked excited and ready to mob her. “Hands off. If anyone nags me about this, I swear I’ll shoot your bad sides and make you look like hags. I make notes, you know…for the calendar guys, on who was difficult and who wasn’t, just so they know who not to hire next time.”

A ripple of fear shot through the models and for a moment, Sidney felt guilty; they were just making a living, the same as her. Lelani Berry had had a really hard life, and was driven to succeed; she just needed someone to help her understand that survival didn’t depend on slash and burn methods. Sidney decided that when she could, she’d try to explain that fact to Lelani.

“Okay, everybody on the beach, just as you are. The light isn’t that great, but not that bad either. We’ll do the shoot and let the graphic guys worry about what works. Wear something over your suits, no topless stuff, and we’ll take a few sunset shots. You’ve got an hour to get yourself camera ready, bring towels—we’re shooting on driftwood. Tell Earl to bring some glitter.”

Earl, the Hollywood makeup man contracted for this job, was good and he knew it. And when Sidney, moving fast, had become impatient and had called him a prima donna, he’d retaliated by making her say “Please, Earl” to get the smallest service.

If Earl wasn’t balking now over some itty-bitty statement she’d made like “Move your butt, Earl,” she had just an hour to get her stuff moved down to Danya’s cabin—maybe more, because the models always took more time than allowed….

On her way out of the Amoteh’s side door, she met Mikhail Stepanov. She slung her duffel bag over her shoulder and opened the door for him and held it. “Well, get in. I don’t have all day.”

He hesitated, then entered and said formally, “Thank you.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

She hurried out and down the resort steps, picked up a back trail that looked as if it would lead to Danya’s cabin on the shoreline and hurried over it.

She had just reached his cabin’s steps when she saw them—On the beach, three big men were wrestling, rolling in the sand and grunting. The men’s bodies thrashed and buckled into a big ball of muscle and she recognized Danya on the bottom—Sidney dropped her duffel bag and hurried to the men. “Get off him,” she ordered, but the grunting, rolling male mass continued.

Experienced with men displaying machismo and as the fight-settler between Stretch and Junior, her tall, athletic sisters, Sidney wasted no time in acting. She grabbed the ear of one man and one ear of the other. “Didn’t you hear my order, men? I said ‘get off him.’”

“Ouch…ouch…”

She eased them away from Danya who was at the bottom of the pile. He smiled sheepishly. “Thanks.”

He rose to his feet and she briskly dusted the sand from his clothing. He frowned slightly and looked at the other men.

“Turn,” she said and Danya looked at her warily, so she moved around him and dusted sand from that taut backside. Then, she faced the men, her hands on her hips. “Well, what do you have to say for yourselves? First, you don’t share what you have with the guy, and then you mob him. Speak up. Say something. Do it now.”

Alexi and Jarek were rubbing their ears and glaring at Danya. “Sorry?” they asked angrily in unison without the slightest hint of an apology.

“What’s this all about, men?” she demanded. “Cut the excuses.”

“Teasing…they were teasing me,” Danya said softly. “We have wrestled like this since we were children.”

Now she felt embarrassed; they were just playing as men do, as she and her sisters did sometimes. “Oh. I see.”

Danya’s blue eyes seemed to fill with her, to absorb her. The salty air seemed to shift a little, heat and still, and the crashing of the waves seemed to be inside her heart—

“Well, boys, now that’s settled, I’ve got a shoot in a little bit,” Sidney stated briskly as pulled herself out of whatever was happening between Danya and herself. She hurried to collect her duffel bag and place it in the house. She dug out her camera gear and wished she didn’t have to face the men.

Danya entered the cabin, and because she’d misunderstood the situation, and because men sometimes got all huffy when a woman rescued them, Sidney said, “Um…sorry about that.”

He stripped off his shirt and tossed it into a hamper. “About what?”

“About butting in. Got to go. See you later.” The sight of his chest, all muscled and tanned and the peaks of his nipples on those rounded pecs caused her throat to dry. She ached to rummage her fingers through that wedge of hair on his chest and maybe follow that thin line downward—

She hurried out the door because in another minute, she’d be reaching to touch him.

The models were clustering on the beach, oiling themselves and reapplying makeup, tousling their hair, and Sidney gave herself to the artistry of nature and female form, the blend of light and water and wind. As usual, a small crowd had collected, watching her work.

When the light was almost gone, Sidney let the models go with an order to get plenty of sleep because they were shooting all the next day.

She sat on a driftwood log and relaxed, a peaceful moment by herself after a heavy concentration of arranging limbs and hair and best sides, and the continual suggestions and grumbling. Earl could be temperamental and she’d had to force herself to heap praise upon him—after he had balked at something minor she’d said like “Move your butt, Earl. I’m losing light.”

Danya came to sit beside her. “Tired?”

“Beat is more like it. There’s a lot of emotion in this, getting the right shot, working with models. I’d prefer natural shots, but this gig was pretty high paying. Plus, I didn’t want to meet up with Ben anywhere. Fluffy would be hanging all over him.” She caught the scent of soap and man and looked at him. “Are you okay?”

“Sure. Dinner is ready when you are.”

Preparing dinner probably kept Danya busy and his mind off his lost love. They watched the setting sun, the bright border of orange on the horizon. The waves slid softly upon the sand and Sidney sighed tiredly. “Ben would have liked this.”

“Mr. Rabbit?”

In the comradery of the moment, Sidney shared an insight with him. “His fast moves could have been my fault. There’s a lot of articles written about what pleases a man. I wouldn’t buy something like that…I get complimentary magazine copies because of my work for the publishers. I just didn’t take time to read them. I’ve always been pretty capable.”

“Sure.” He sounded disbelieving.

She eyed him. “You don’t believe me?”

He riffled her hair playfully. “Sure I do.”

“I could have done a lot better than you did out there in the sand today.”

Danya seemed to smirk. “I don’t think so. You’re small.”

“Oh, you don’t, do you?” Sidney stood up and faced him. She made the “come and get me” motion with her hands. “Try me.”

“No.”

She reached to riffle his hair and Danya’s hand circled her wrist, easing it away. His eyes were dark, his expression grim. “Don’t. No wrestling.”

Sidney eased down to sit beside him. She wasn’t leaving him to brood about his lost love. They sat in silence, staring at the ocean, and she noted that he still held her hand, resting it on his thigh. Then suddenly, Danya said, “If you’re ready, let’s eat.”

He’d locked himself inside again, she thought sadly. “Sure.”

He held her hand on the way to his cabin, and waited until she opened the door for him to enter.

That gave her a chance to enjoy Danya’s truly admirable backside. That warm little ball seemed to lodge low in Sidney’s belly as she watched him; her throat dried and tightened and something had just peaked her breasts, though she wasn’t cold. He was graceful, like a powerful cat, broad shoulders swaying just that bit, cords rippling down that T-shirt fitted so close to his body. She ached to take pictures of him, the blend of shadows and a truly sexy male.

He turned slowly and studied her with a half smile.

The hair on her nape lifted. She didn’t understand that smile, but it caught her heart and flipped it over; her body quivered just that once, not in fear, but in anticipation—of what? Why was he looking at her like that—his lips curved slightly, his eyes heavy lidded, that silvery gaze taking in her body from head to foot? What was happening?

She wondered what it would feel like, nipple to nipple, hers to his, and her body went taut and hot and quivery again….

Danya slowly stripped away his T-shirt, his eyes never leaving hers. “I’ll take another shower. Make yourself at home.”

He didn’t move. She couldn’t move.

She could either call it a day and retreat.

Or she could—Sidney closed the cabin door behind her with a click.

Danya nodded slowly, then turned to go into the bathroom, leaving her alone.

Her knees shook; her whole body quivered. Whatever had happened in that moment had shaken her badly.

It was all in her mind, of course. Nothing had happened—not really.

Or had it?