Total Package. Cait London

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СКАЧАТЬ would you? A bunch of sex-starved, booby bimbos chasing you?”

      He chuckled softly, deeply in the night. “No, I sure wouldn’t want that.”

      At least his humor was there. Maybe she had done some good after all. Sidney sat up and looked for her socks. Danya took her foot and slowly slid one sock on and then the other. Sidney had the strangest sense that she was being tended somehow.

      It was a gentle, but uneasy sensation that caused her to jam on her hiking boots and lace them tightly. “You want to talk at your place, or what?” she asked abruptly as she stood. “If not, then I’m going to have to go back into that bimbo hell and try to find a quiet corner where someone isn’t sobbing over some girly movie, or someone isn’t wanting to give me a facial or pluck my eyebrows. The light won’t be good for shooting tomorrow, so they know they can stay up late—hunting me.”

      He handed her the sports bra and her cotton briefs. There was nothing intimate about it, only one buddy helping another. She stuffed them into her sleeping bag and Danya stood. He bent down to roll her bag and lift it over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

      “I can carry that. Who do you think waits on me?”

      “I don’t doubt it a bit. It’s just that you’ve helped me tonight, and I’d like to return the favor…so I wouldn’t be in your debt. You understand.”

      Sidney did understand. She never liked to be in anyone’s debt and Bulldog had taught her to be self-sufficient. But if Danya needed that link to keep him off that cliff, she could sacrifice. He carefully led her down the rocky trail from the chieftain’s grave site. Around her smaller one, his hand felt good, strong, and companionable. Maybe he needed that link with her. Maybe she needed it with him. Ships in the night, Sidney reminded herself. At least she wasn’t at the mercy of the models.

      Danya held her hand as they walked in the night, down Strawberry Hill and a long walk to the Amoteh Resort’s steps. From there, they moved across a small worn path and down to the shoreline and Amoteh, the town. In the distance behind them, a huge jagged rock jutted up into the night, the waves crashing around it; she recognized the landmark as Deadman’s Rock where boats had been smashed upon the rock and people had died.

      She glanced at the man whom she had rescued. He looked big and lethal, hard and soulless, the wind catching his hair. He kept on one side of her, breaking the wind, and handling her sleeping bag as if it were nothing. Sidney hurried to match his long stride, but then she noted that it had shortened, and that he moved with her. She only reached his shoulder, her hand small within his.

      The guy was a toucher, needing and giving touches and she could handle that—if it would help him deal with his pain. She’d talk him through the night and in the morning, he’d feel much better.

      They passed docking piers, the boats moving in the waves, gently bumping at their moorings, then the long tourist pier filled with shops that were now closed, flags trembling above them.

      Then, just as they passed a long margin of driftwood piled on the shore, Sidney decided that maybe Danya really only needed to have sex to make him see that life was worth living.

      But not with her. She stopped, jerked her hand away from his, and plopped down on a log. “Wait a minute. Wait a minute—”

      Danya loomed above her, the sleeping bag propped over his shoulder. “Problem?”

      “I just want to get something straight. No sex. No way. Not with me. You’ve got to promise to think of me as a friend, a buddy, not a woman.” She patted a driftwood log. “Sit.”

      “I do not think of you as just a woman,” Danya said slowly, thoughtfully, with that touch of foreign formality.

      He eased down to the log and studied her, his face all angles in the mist and eery moonlight. “Good. Just keep thinking of me as your buddy and we’ll be fine. Men usually think of me that way and I’m used to talking straight with them, no female chatter for me. Do you have a sexual problem? Because if you do, I can’t help you there.”

      Was he trying not to smile? “Not that I know of.”

      “What’s your sexual history? I’m just asking because I don’t want to be jumped by some guy with stored up—some guy needing relief. I mean, have you done it since your wife—you know?”

      “A few times. But I didn’t find what my wife and I had and I needed that to feel complete.”

      “No offense, but you understand why I need to be careful.”

      “You have my word that I will not touch you—like that. But it is nice to listen to you talk. If you would stay with me, it would fill the hours.”

      She eyed him and could find no humor in that hard face. “Are you saying that I talk too much? Because I’m just trying to help you, after all.”

      “I am saying that I would be pleased if you would share my home tonight.” Again, his formality caused Sidney to be uneasy. But then, she’d met a few European males and though this guy was born in the U.S., sometimes family traditions carried over; he probably even spoke Russian. She’d noticed that same formality in Mikhail Stepanov, and a slight disdain for the models hovering around him.

      “I’m not having sex with you—just getting that straight upfront. Been there, done that, with Mr. Rabbit, and it wasn’t fun. What happened to these other women you’ve had?”

      Danya looked out to the black waves. “Correction—a couple of women, each for a brief time. It seems that I am a good matchmaker. Through me, they met someone more suitable than myself.”

      “Oh, that’s too bad. So you were dumped. Danya, you can’t think of yourself as a life’s loser just because you were dumped.”

      “That is good advice. I’m tired and my cabin is just a little bit farther. Do you want to go on, or back to the resort?”

      Sidney yawned and thought of the primping models waiting to give her facials, pluck her eyebrows, share intimate girl-talk and discuss silly fashions. “If I could pull up a piece of your floor for my sleeping bag, I’d be grateful.”

      He nodded and stood. Exhausted now, Sidney yawned again and looked down at the big hand extended to help her to her feet.

      Bulldog wouldn’t like her accepting help, but since this guy needed lots of touching to get him through the night, what did it matter?

      In her lifetime, Sidney had had to make quick decisions and always trusted her judgment. Now it told her that she could trust this man. He needed companionship for the night and she needed rest.

      It would all work out, she decided as she walked with him to his cabin.

      And then her artistic photographer’s mind added an enticing thought—he was gorgeous and just maybe she could get some really good shots, a portrait in black and white would really emphasize that rugged face.

      That long lean body wasn’t that bad, either, she decided, and it would be perfect for some excellent shots, maybe for magazine ads. She might even be a factor in changing his life, in starting him in new successful directions, in giving him a new and beautiful slant on life.

      Hey, when opportunity raised its beautiful, profitable head, who was she to deny it?

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