Total package, p.14
Total Package, page 14
He returned to his bed and damned himself for wanting a woman who wasn’t like any other—on the other hand, that was exactly why he loved her. The wind chimes tinkled quietly, lonely on his porch and the waves broke endlessly upon the sand as he thought about how they met, up on Strawberry Hill, and how Sidney had been mourning the loss of Ben. Now, just maybe, she was still in love with him.
At three-thirty, the cabin door opened slowly. Sidney entered, closing it behind her.
She undressed slowly and in the shadows, her curved body eased into the bed beside him. “Finish what you started,” she whispered unevenly.
“There’s more than this between us,” Danya returned, even as he drew her into his arms and found the softness of her throat with his lips. Lying against him, she was already damp and fragrant and holding him tight, her insole rubbing his calf. She smoothed his hair, his shoulders, his back with her open hands, pressing him close, as if drawing him into her, imprinting his body into hers….
“Danya….” she whispered achingly, her lips against his jaw.
He understood the sound of goodbye, the sweetness of her kisses, soft against his, her body flowing against him. Her lips trailed to his ear, her face nuzzling his as he breathed unsteadily, holding his pride, keeping his silence.
If she needed to give him a sweet memory, he intended to return the favor, hoarding this last night for midnights to come…. His instincts told him to hold her, to possess her, and fighting his emotions, leaning over her, Danya held her wrists beside her head. “You know how I feel—that I love you?”
“Yes—”
In the shadows, her face was pale, her eyes enormous. “You feel the same, don’t you?” he asked roughly, surprised that his pride could slip so, to ask what should be freely given….
The shadows were in her eyes now, a silent plea for him to understand—“It won’t work, Danya—”
He couldn’t wait for a denial that could tear his soul from him, but leaned down to brush his lips against hers. “Then let’s make this night last—”
He tasted that smooth skin on his way down to her breasts, cradled them as she arched up onto his keeping, treated the tender peaks with lips and tongue and teeth until she left that safe, guarded place where she kept herself away from him. Her body heated, pulsing against him, and aware that Sidney could move to the ultimate pleasure too quickly, Danya held the slow pace without yielding to her trembling, her rapid, uneven breath telling him that she wanted him deep inside—
He nuzzled her belly, heard her racing heart and the hiss of her indrawn breath as her hands gripped his head. His blood pounded and his body hurt, demanding release, but Danya strained to keep his course, to make Sidney remember this night, remember him….
To his touch, she was hot and moist and the incredible sounds that came, strained and uneven from her, told him that one touch could take her flying—
Too soon, he thought, rising to kiss her, to slant his open mouth to hers, to let her suckle his tongue, whimpering, her hips rising against his hand. Then she pushed him inches away, rising over him. Her fingers locked with his, her body pushing down, damp and waiting, rocking upon him.
Danya turned suddenly, fighting the primitive need to take her, to slide within her. He ran his hands over her body, cupping her bottom, then turned her stomach down on the bed, bracing himself over her, resting intimately against her feminine damp softness. He nuzzled her face, smoothed the dampness with his cheek, slid his hand around to her belly and lower, cupping her, moving, slowly rhythmically with her, though they were still separate, kissing her taut shoulders, her nape, her cheek….
If she was his curse, a woman he could never forget, and never have, he would take this time at his leisure, take everything, demand everything—
He moved slowly, fearing that the storm would come too soon, turning her and then her eager hand slid to find him and he held his breath, forcing himself still—In their lovemaking, she had never gone so far, cradling him, gloving him….
Danya cradled her face with his hands, feeding upon the taste of her mouth, letting the rhythm of tongue and bodies flow more quickly. Heat flew, whirled around them, binding them tighter until nothing existed but her—
He heard that quiet, keening cry of her pleasure in the distance, above the pounding of his heart, above the heat claiming him—
Because he couldn’t let her go, leave him just yet, Danya held her tightly, resting momentarily, before demanding even more—
This time, Sidney surprised him as she moved sleekly over him, rocking, demanding, primitive—perfect….
She left him in the dawn, with the wind chimes gently singing, the waves breaking upon the sandy beach.
Danya watched the mist enfold her and knew he’d carry the taste of her forever, that no other woman could fill his heart, that he’d remember forever the night that had passed.
Was it his curse? he asked, mocking himself, to love such a woman, a woman who feared and fought what ran so strong and fiercely between them?
Danya smiled tightly and watched the two tall athletic women stride up the pathway to his new house. Only hours after Sidney had walked off into the mist—hell, she was almost running, terrified of being shackled into marriage or anything else with him—he’d expected the Blakely family.
He turned off the table saw he’d been using to make a railing for the wooden deck of his new house. He’d been wondering if he could actually live in a house hollow with dreams of a lover, who was now in flight. “Hello, ladies,” he said pleasantly.
“Sid is gone, loverboy, and there’s no one to protect you now,” Junior warningly said as she and Stretch stepped up to the wooden deck.
Stretch popped her knuckles and widened her stance as if preparing for a fight. “Our baby sister is a pitiful, sobbing wreck. You need a lesson in turning on the charm and hurting women, loverboy.”
“Do you know where she went?” He tried not to appear too interested, because the Blakelys probably knew and would hoard that information from him—the “Loverboy.”
“Flew out of here as fast as her rental car would take her. Sid has assignments all over the world. She’ll check in when she’s good and ready. But don’t hold your breath that she’ll contact you. We don’t buy that ‘rebound’ story, that you loved your wife and Sid just came into your life at the wrong time and you made a play for her.”
Junior was studying the house. “You’re on the same level as Ben.”
“And you’re pretty irritating yourself, Junior,” Danya stated pleasantly, although he could understand their appraisal—Sidney had put him in the Ben-bin, sex as needed, come and go freely, and that irritated. Danya had admitted his love and she’d walked away from what they could have—and he wasn’t feeling sweet about that….
He had to admire the Blakely family, because they protected their own, just as the Stepanovs would do. The dynamics were very different, but the Blakelys’ love was strong. If he had to love a hardheaded woman, he might as well get to know Sidney’s family better—if possible. “Had your breakfast yet this morning?”
“No, why? Delaying the inevitable, loverboy?”
If Sidney’s sisters were anything like her, they were healthy eaters and feeding them might trim their need for revenge. And just maybe, he might pick up some tidbits about Sidney. “Just offering a little friendly bacon and eggs and hash browns—maybe some toast and juice? I just stocked the refrigerator and haven’t tried out this new stove yet.”
“Don’t tell me you cook for Sid?” Junior asked warily as she leaned to one side, looking around him into the house.
“I never asked her to take care of me. That wasn’t what our relationship was about.”
“Yeah, you just wanted sex, right? And you picked on Sid when she was vulnerable. We should have kicked Ben’s butt and we may still—right after we’re finished with you.”
“Give Ben a break, will you? He’s an expectant father now.”
Stretch and Junior shared an uneasy look. “I can’t hurt a guy who’s expecting,” Junior said and Stretch nodded in agreement.
Danya thought of Sidney’s equal hunger for him and decided against adding fuel to the Blakelys’ already established dislike of him. He shrugged lightly. “An architect designed this house. Take a look around if you want. I’ll start breakfast.”
Stretch was standing, long legs braced studying the view of the ocean and the peninsula called Strawberry Hill. “How do I get up there? That’s where the grave is, isn’t it?”
“Uh-huh. Years ago, someone discovered what they thought was an artifact up there, maybe a war club resembling something Kamakani might have used. Where’s Bulldog?”
“Where’s that club now? I’d like to verify the style…. Bulldog is talking to your father. He figures that’s his role since his baby girl has been seduced by you. He didn’t buy the marriage offer, because he knew you were on the spot and trying to slime out of it. Besides that, Sid would never settle down permanently. Who in this town keeps historical records?”
“Try the local soap shop. Ask for Willow.”
Danya noted Junior’s tall, lithe body prowling in the house behind him; she was exploring the hidden panels of the entertainment center. If he could keep both women interested long enough, they just might stay and that might mean Sidney would come looking for her family. “Let me start breakfast and then we can talk. My laptop is set up in the other room, an office, if you want to research anything—Well, okay, then,” Danya added softly as Stretch moved by him, into the house. Junior pointed her sister to a hallway and Stretch hurried out of sight.
One thing about the Blakely sisters, they wasted no time in getting what they wanted.
Danya just hoped that Sidney wanted him and he had plenty of patience….
In her New York brownstone apartment three days later, Sidney studied the duplicate pictures she’d taken of the Stepanov family, the Stepanov Furniture, and the Amoteh Resort. Her finger traced the pictures of the Amoteh Resort’s Tea Room, the gorgeous soft lighting, the delicate cups and saucers beside Mary Jo’s raspberry filled cookies. The gorgeous samovar sat near the traditional glasses with elegant metal holders.
The dish of strawberries had had to be rearranged after Danya had removed one, feeding it to her and she had returned the intimate gesture. She had loved hand feeding Danya, watching his darkening, intent expression as he accepted the strawberry; it had been as if the world had slowed, heartbeats hours apart, rather than seconds.
On impulse, she picked up the telephone and dialed Mikhail’s private office number. His voice was brisk, businesslike. “Mikhail.”
“This is Sid. I’m doing a follow-up, no other reason to call. Just wanted to check to see if you were satisfied with the takes for the brochure. I guarantee my work, you know. I don’t want dissatisfied customers, not good for the reputation. Oh, and make certain that you supply my photographer’s permission for the printers.”
On the other end of the line, Mikhail was too quiet. Then he said, “Everything is fine, Sid. Thanks. You’re welcome here any time, you know.”
Because she hadn’t heard from her family, Sidney asked tentatively, “I suppose my family checked out?”
“Yes, just after you left.”
“Um…did they say anything about where they were going?”
“Not to me.” There was someone else she could ask, but she wouldn’t. “Okay, thanks. I guess they’re traveling, sometimes it’s a couple of weeks before I hear from them.”
“Anything else, Sid?”
“Um.” Have you seen Danya? Is he okay? Has he said anything about me? “Um, no, nothing. Thanks. Bye.”
Sidney hugged a couch throw pillow. Danya….
She wouldn’t be good for him. She wasn’t the stay-in-one-place, little housewifey kind…. He’d hate her in the end…. There was no way she could fit into his life…. He deserved a woman who—“I love you,” he’d said.
Sidney jackknifed into sitting position and rummaged through the glossy pictures on her coffee table to find one of Danya, the salty breeze taking his hair back from that rugged face, those sky-blue eyes narrowed against the sun, that devastating grin into the camera when she’d surprised him.
The entire Stepanov family portrait lay next to Danya’s photograph and she’d smoothed the others away. Taken in front of Fadey’s huge fireplace, the family was large and proud. As she studied them, one by one, Sidney whispered the names of the babies, parents, proud grandparents, husbands and wives—
Leaning slightly against Alexi, Jessica cradled Danika Louise. Mikhail held his stepdaughter close to his side, Mary Jo held hands with Fadey, who sat next to Viktor. Then men wore their festival shirts, loose with wide collars, embroidered—But Danya’s was plain….
Sidney had left his grandmother’s embroidery hoop in Mikhail’s office, fearing that something so cherished could be lost in the mail. And it was best that some other woman complete his life….
Danya…. Safe, big, strong, masculine…close, sensual, hot, hungry…fierce lover, taking, giving…tender friend, sharing….
Flipside: Brooding, arrogant, traditional, a family man if ever there was one. Worse—he cooked and cleaned and washed her clothing and seemed content that she had no housekeeping skills whatsoever.
The whole tall, muscular, good-looking package was irritating, unsuitable for the lifestyle that she had wanted…. “I love you,” he’d said.
Just maybe she’d been on the rebound from Ben and had gotten blindsided by Danya, who despite what he said about tucking Jeannie deep within his heart, was still in love with his wife.
Who was he anyway?
But she knew: Danya was a part of her now, a man who had shared her body, making love, not sex to her. Now that was scary—lovemaking was more than sex, and now no-thanks to Danya, she knew the difference. It would probably haunt her forever. She hadn’t heard from him. Was he all right?
A quick sly call to Mary Jo said that she loved the photographs for the furniture shop and that the brochure she was creating was coming along nicely. “Come back to see us, dear,” Mary Jo invited in her soft Texas drawl.
Sidney replaced the telephone. Danya’s aunt hadn’t said a thing about him….
But more importantly, because Sidney had always known her own mind and was now questioning her next assignment from an assortment, trying to balance her life and needs without Danya, now that she’d had a taste of him—“Who am I?”
Sidney lurched to her feet and started pacing. “Okay, so everything happened so fast. It usually does with me. I know what I want and I go for it. I went for Danya. He seemed like a nice guy—okay, he is a nice guy—but he comes with all sorts of problems. The best thing for us both is just to walk off and forget the whole thing.”
But could she?
Not one to waste time, Sidney hurried out of her apartment with two things on her mind: One to find the nearest stitchery shop, and two, to finish off Ben. She’d loved him forever, and she’d been deeply hurt and angry when she’d met Danya.
It all started on Strawberry Hill…. “He wasn’t going to jump off that cliff. He loved his wife, but he also loved his family and life….”
Anytime there was a clog in her thinking, in choosing a direction, it was best to start at the root of the problem and work to the resolve.
And where was her family, anyway?
Did Danya miss her? Was he thinking about her?
He’d created a real hole in her life and marred her thinking. She had to deal with him, and herself. Hurrying now, she opened a craft and hobby store door, walked into the cluttered interior and felt fear rise up her spine. The shop held everything that was unnatural to her—ribbons, cloth, needles, patterns…. She hated fear, she really did, and worse she hated failure. But because of Danya, she was experiencing both.
When the clerk came to help her, Sidney wasted no time in getting what she wanted, just as she had Danya. “Fix me up with some flowery embroidery stuff, okay? Threads, easy design, maybe some how-to book, needles, hoop, whatever.”
Back in her apartment, Sidney made quick travel arrangements. Now all she had to do was to finish off Ben, and no longer on the rebound, she could untangle her feelings about Danya and thus finish him off, too….
Sidney had the uneasy sense that she just might not be able to complete that mission.
She glanced at her e-mail, hoping for Danya’s name, and nothing appeared. Her message machine, which she usually managed by remote contained the same number of messages as when she had last checked. Sidney flipped open a picture book in which she had stored the flattened remains of the beautiful orchid corsage he’d given her and fought tears.
“That’s all he’s good for, making me cry.” Well, her body admitted as she hugged a pillow close to her, Danya was good for other things.
Danya….
On Strawberry Hill, Danya lifted his face to the fierce wind and rain striking him. He’d met Sidney, the reason for his sleepless, aching nights, on this same high cliff a month ago. It was now mid-July and she was in his every thought.
He could go after her.
He could e-mail or send flowers or call.
But he wouldn’t. He wasn’t feeling exactly tender toward Sidney. She didn’t trust him. Another man had hurt her and Sidney wasn’t taking chances again.
None of the above equated to love.
He bent quickly and grabbed a tuft of grass, lifting and freeing it to the fierce salt-scented wind. Wherever she was, he wanted her to think about him, to ache for him.
Uncomfortable with constant anger and the need to tear Sidney away from him—or go after her—Danya turned to Chief Kamakani’s grave. “Don’t wait for Sidney to come dancing in front of your grave. She’s a curse in herself and she’s probably still grieving over Ben…. Does she love me? That irritating little fast-moving, argumentative, tough-mouthed scrap of female? I think so, or maybe, on some level, I’m just as perverse as she is. On the rebound? Not a chance, at least for me. Sidney will have to make up her own mind about her next move—but I don’t plan to make it easy for her. So you see, Chief, your curse is pretty effective….”
