Total Package. Cait London

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ nothing worse than a bunch of women moaning over their boyfriends, talking lipstick and hair, and waxing their legs. You have no idea how bad that hurts. To shut them up, I let them do it…almost killed me. It doesn’t stop at the legs, you know—they have to worry about their bikini lines. Now, that really hurts.”

      “Ouch.”

      Sidney nodded; Danya seemed to understand about bikini pain. She could tell by his slight grimace. Communication was progressing; soon he would forget about jumping. She decided to find out the reason for his crossing-out-life-tonight gambit. Touching was always good, according to Bulldog, so Sidney reached out and patted Danya’s jeaned thigh. It was hard and muscles tightened beneath her hand; Danya was in really good shape. He sucked in a breath and his hand had locked over hers, his thumb caressing her palm. It was probably because he needed human touch; Sidney allowed her hand to be held captive. “So, buddy, what’s your story? I’m a good listener—at least, my boyfriend used to tell me that.”

      The mention of Ben took her backtracking to his choice of Fluffy, the blond bimbo, and Sidney was unfolding her whole miserable tale before she knew it. “His name was Ben. We’d been on a few photo shoots together, in some pretty tight places. I’d watch his back, he’d watch mine, that sort of thing. We camped together, went through land mines together, stood on the cusp of a lava river together, shooting away. It was great. He’s a photojournalist. You may have seen our stuff in magazines. Though a lot of people really don’t care about the photographer’s credits.”

      “And?” He rubbed her hand slowly up and down his thigh, but then, she justified, the guy probably had a muscle ache.

      “And sex. We had that—oh, maybe twice a year…when there was time. Nothing like whole hours or anything—you just don’t play around when you’re out there shooting stuff. You get the job done and go on. So, anyway, we had a thing going for oh, six or seven years, and then he meets Fluffy-baby. They got married a month ago. That’s why I don’t want to take any freelance jobs where I might cross paths with Ben. Fluffy-baby hangs all over him. It’s disgusting.”

      “I see,” Danya said softly. “So that would hurt you?”

      “It would make me mad. Fluffy hadn’t got a thing to offer. Some little sweetie pie who hasn’t been anywhere or done anything, but that isn’t bad—it’s just that we had done all those great, exciting things together and then he up and dumps me for her.”

      Sidney lay back on the sleeping bag and her hand was released. As the wind riffled her hair almost playfully, she inhaled the damp scents of night, mingled with the earth and trees. A short distance away, a small animal rustled through the underbrush, and she carefully moved through memories before speaking. “Bulldog never liked Ben. So at least I don’t have to listen to lectures from sweet old Dad anymore.”

      Grass brushed her feet and clung to them. She kicked slightly to dislodge the damp blades, and he noted the action. “Did you hurt your feet when you walked over the rocks?”

      Danya reached to take her foot and draw it into his hands. He smoothed her arch and insole very slowly. A woman who knew how to take what she could get in a single moment of life, because it could be gone the next, Sidney relaxed slightly. She wanted to give him something back. “Hey, want a candy bar?” she asked as she dug into her pants cargo pocket.

      “No, thanks.” He carefully drew off her thick workman’s sock, and continued to slowly, carefully rub her feet.

      Sidney unwrapped the chocolate bar and munched on it, contemplating Ben’s defection while having her feet warmed and soothed. “I loved him—Ben, I mean. We shared film and lenses and hardships. A thing like that doesn’t go away easy. Now he’s with her, the six-foot-nothing-but-legs-and-boobs blond bimbo. I don’t know what he sees in her. They are planning to multiply and raise ducks. He’s all excited, Mr. Rabbit, so fast you never know he’s been there before he’s gone. Now, I’ve got a reason to jump off that—er, to eat a lot of these candy bars.”

      She plopped her other foot into his hands. “Do that one. Talk. Pick up the pace.”

      His hands moved slowly, carefully over her feet; his voice was husky and uneven. His thumbs cruised over her arches. “You’ve got small feet.”

      She hoped he wasn’t getting ready to cry. She didn’t know how to handle tears, not even her own. Right now, thinking about Ben and Fluffy, Sidney’s eyes were burning. But a Blakely never cries. Bulldog would be shamed. That was why she carried the candy bars and why she’d put on weight—whenever she started to tear up, she’d grab something chocolate and focus on that. “Yeah. Hard to get the right kind of combat boots for my size, but I’m wearing hiking ones now. So what’s your story?”

      “My wife died in a car wreck. I was driving,” he said simply.

      Sidney swallowed the bite of chocolate. “You feel guilty.”

      “Because I lived and she didn’t. A drunken driver met us head-on and crossed in front of us at the last minute. I didn’t come to for days, and when I did—Jeannie was gone. We were both twenty-three.”

      “That’s a heavy load. When did it happen?”

      “Nine years ago. I still see those headlights…every night when I close my eyes.” Danya lay down, put his hands behind his head and stared at the night sky.

      “Wow. And I thought I had it bad.” The companionable thing to do would be to lie quietly and wait for him to talk, so that’s what Sidney did. She had to lie close because it was a single sleeping bag.

      She needed to distract him from his grief and refocus him on something else. “I detest being closeted every day and night with these models. I’ll be glad when this gig is over. They won’t leave me alone. I’m just not into girly talk and she-she.”

      “You could stay somewhere else.” He reached for her free hand and eased it beneath his shirt. The poor guy needed human touch, she thought as he rubbed her hand over his muscled stomach, and he felt good to touch, she decided.

      “Do you ache—I mean, do you have some physical problem that might cause you to want to end it all? If you do, there are all sorts of counselors for pain—and for grief, by the way. Have you tried that?”

      “No to the second part, but yes, now I do ache. Your hand feels good. Do you mind?”

      “Not if it helps you. I’ve done massage when needed. I’ve been in lots of make-do situations, and most of the time it’s just people helping people, letting them know that someone cares. But I would sure like to escape those models. That’s why I brought my sleeping bag up here—to get away from them since there’s nowhere else to stay besides my room at Amoteh. Where are you staying? With your family?”

      “In my family’s cabin along the beach. It’s quiet, private, except for the wind chimes and the waves. It’s pretty plain, one room, no luxuries like at the Amoteh Resort.”

      “Sounds like heaven.”

      The mist had turned to a gentle rain and Sidney knew she couldn’t stay all night—a photographer with a bad cold could ruin a shoot. Then she sneezed. “Look, I’ve got to go. Come down off this hill with me? We’ll go someplace for a beer and talk some more.”

      “Everything is closed.”

      “We could go to my room and raid the refrigerator there, but those models would be on you like flies СКАЧАТЬ