Total Package (15 page)

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….”

He’d given Sidney his heart and his dreams and she’d walked out of his life….

But he had one thing she wouldn’t walk away from—her family, living in his house.

She’d come back for them, and when she did, she’d have to reckon with Danya and what brewed between them….

S

In the space of a week, while Sidney had gone to Ben’s Wisconsin farm and picked up an assignment shooting cornfields and cattle, she’d lost her entire family. By the second week, after shooting a sailing regatta in Boston, she was really worried.

But everything seemed the same in Amoteh. The Amoteh Resort jutted out into the midmorning sunlight from the pines surrounding it. The towering totem poles of grotesque Native American masks stood near the resort. Clusters of golfers were walking on the lush green, sprawling golf course.

In late July, the Pacific Ocean lay ahead, seeming to blend into the clear blue sky. Sailboats skimmed the waves, tourist boats of all kinds bobbed beside the piers to which they were tethered. The large pier jutting out from the shoreline was lined with shops, colorful flags flying above the tourists milling below.

Sidney noted Mikhail’s black BMW in the Amoteh’s parking lot and drove her pickup to park nearby. She entered the Amoteh, and braced herself for the sight of Danya.

Danya had been put on the spot by her father and sisters, otherwise he never would have mentioned marriage. He was an old-fashioned guy, bound by honor; he would do the expected.

However, his delivery of marriage—“Well, will you?”—wasn’t exactly romantic, and he’d seemed to be romantic earlier. But then, her family, united and defensive, could leave tulips wilted in their wake.

Sidney met Jarek in the hallway near the Stepanov Furniture Display Room; he was carrying a cardboard box. The Stepanov males were gorgeous, she decided as she walked toward him. Just the sight of a Stepanov male, so like Danya, brought that funny little squeeze around her heart—
Danya….

“Hey, Sid,” Jarek greeted her.

“Hey, Jarek.”

“Open the door for me, will you? This is a box of Mom’s lemon-and-beeswax polish. We’re starting to market it, and I’m setting up a display inside. She may want you to do some shots of it for a separate sales brochure. Your last ones for our furniture turned out really good.”

“Thanks. It’s new stuff for me. I wasn’t too certain how they’d turn out.” Sidney followed Jarek inside; she wouldn’t ask about Danya. “So how’s the family, Jarek?”

While Jarek unloaded the bottles from the box, Sidney tried not to look at the bed in which she and Danya had made love that first time—She ran her hand over the smooth dark wood of a sturdy armoire and onto the blue woven mat covering a chest of drawers. He’d been so—tender and fierce…. How could she ever forget that?

She thought about the little vanity he’d given her, her first handcrafted gift from a man. Danya had been first in many ways, but she couldn’t take that perfect little piece away from Amoteh. It belonged somewhere safe, where it could be tended—maybe by some woman who suited Danya better, someone who knew about polishing furniture and who would brush her hair nightly in front of the mirror. Sidney frowned when she remembered how Danya had said he’d wanted to watch from the bed—another woman and Danya in the same bedroom wasn’t an image she liked.

Mary Jo entered the display room with a tray filled with a beautiful teapot and cups and saucers decorated by the Amoteh’s strawberry design. “Hi, Sid. It’s so nice to see you. I thought I’d have some tea while I polish the furniture. We’re just starting to market my own recipe for polish and I’m pretty excited. It’s my mother’s recipe and I’ve used it for years,” she said in her soft Texas drawl as she placed the tray on a small table.

Sidney studied the neatly arranged bottles. “The packaging looks great.”

“Thank you, Jarek,” Mary Jo said quietly and looked at her son, a silent message that she wanted to be alone with Sidney.

“Uh—okay, I have to get back to the shop. See you later,” he said.

“There’s nothing like having a midmorning cup of tea after polishing furniture. Just sitting and relaxing with the smell of lemon and the sense of a job well done.” Mary Jo slid open a dresser drawer and removed a cloth, which she saturated with the polish. She began polishing a long dining room table and smiled at Sid. “Of course, I could polish later. Would you like to have a cup of tea with me now, Sid?”

“Oh, I couldn’t—unless you’d let me help you.” Just maybe, while they were working, Mary Jo might tell her about Danya.

“That would be so nice. Thank you.”

Sidney hadn’t polished furniture before, and she found that she enjoyed it immensely. She wondered if anyone had
polished her little vanity—in the bedroom where Danya had shown her—in the bedroom where a bed would be and he just might be sharing it with some other woman.
Some other woman could be kissing Danya even now….

And that would be perfect, she tried desperately to make herself believe, because she didn’t fit into his life.

When they had finished polishing, Mary Jo served tea, and Sidney sat, surprised that she had also enjoyed the light work and the lemony scent, as Mary Jo, a proud grandmother talked about her family. Strange, Sidney thought, the softness she felt, the gentling inside as she sat with the older woman. Mary Jo’s inner calmness was catching, Sidney decided, and realized how very few times she had visited quietly with women—heart-to-heart talks with her sisters didn’t really qualify. Stretch and Junior had little time for deep introspection, exploring their emotions.

“Mary Jo, I was wondering if you’d happen to know where my family is—Bulldog, Stretch and Junior? I mean, they left here just after I did and though I’m on e-mail with them, I can’t seem to pinpoint their location.”

Mary Jo sipped her tea slowly before answering thoughtfully, “Why, I believe Bulldog is with Fadey and Viktor on the beach, baby-sitting the children.”

Sidney almost spilled her tea. Her father had always meticulously avoided contact with children. “What? My father? You mean, he’s here? Baby-sitting?”

“They were fishing this morning—Fadey, Viktor and Roy—”

“Roy? My dad?”

“That’s his name, isn’t it? Roy Blakely?”

Sidney shook her head to clear it. “I guess so. I haven’t heard anyone use it before. What about Stretch and Junior?”

“I think they’re on the beach, too, darlin’. Playing volleyball, I believe.”

An hour later, after Sidney had greeted her missing family, she sat on a driftwood log and watched her sisters play
volleyball in the sand. Their opponents on the other side of the net were two tall powerful males—Stepanov cousins, Sergei and Kiril, who were temporarily staying in the beach cabin. Stretch and Junior were strong, agile, powerful and competitive—but the men were easily beating them and the sisters were irritated.

When Sidney was first greeted by them, there was something uneasy about her family; they’d said they were taking an unexpected vacation and hadn’t had time to contact her. Usually in transit, from one job and location to another, the sisters had always been vocal about job problems, insect bites, or the excitement in their work; but now they weren’t talking about their next projects, only the game in progress, one they were losing badly. Bulldog stuck to basics, giving no explanation of why he hadn’t contacted her. Her family had avoided telling her that they had stayed in Amoteh. Why?

Because they knew she wouldn’t approve?

On the sandy volleyball court, Stretch and Junior were clearly frustrated as they lost points. Apparently, the wager was that the losers would cook dinner for the winners; the menu was the winners’ choice.

Bulldog was talking with Fadey and Viktor as they sat on another log, children playing in the sand at their feet. Her father looked soft and mellow, unlike his usual brisk and tough self. He shared the grandfather look with Fadey and Viktor and was taking great interest in the construction of a sand castle near him, scooping sand into small plastic buckets for the children to use.

Without looking, Sidney recognized the long jeaned legs of the man who came to sit beside her. She tried to ignore the iced snow cone Danya held out to her, but because things were so gloomy and everyone was so happy, she sighed and took it from him. It was strawberry flavored and she sucked it, taking her time before she spoke, “You did this, didn’t you?”

A sidelong glance told her that Danya looked delicious in a T-shirt and jeans, and he smelled fantastic—He sucked his
snow cone, reminding her of how that mouth had treated her breasts. Beneath her chambray shirt and her tight sports bra, they ached slightly and deep inside her, her muscles clenched—

“What did I do? Too bad—Stretch just missed that serve.” Danya was watching the game in progress—the ordinarily cool and dexterous Stretch had just stamped the ground and Junior was chastising her for a wrong move. The sisters usually played methodically, perfectly, and they didn’t like losing.

Sidney sighed and took a bit of the crushed ice, rolling it on her tongue before swallowing. “They didn’t want me to know where they were. So here they are. My family never stays long in one place and—”

The game had ended, but Danya didn’t turn to Sidney. “Good game. Your sisters are good. You smell like a lemon.”

“Uh-huh. I don’t like this, Danya…what you’ve done to my family.”

He licked his snow cone, tipped it a little to drink the melted ice and flavoring, and took his time responding. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Don’t deny that you had a hand in this. Those guys—your cousins—are ringers, if I ever saw one. What do they do for a living, anyway?”

Danya shrugged easily. “Sergei races a bit. Kiril rides in rodeos.”

“Oh, boy. You pulled out the competitive ones. Just how many cousins do you have?”

“Never counted. All my uncles immigrated at the same time as my father…. So how is Ben?” he asked easily.

“Happy. It’s disgusting. Duck poo everywhere. He really loves Fluffy.”

“That’s too bad. You’ll miss him.”

Sidney looked at Danya, but found nothing in his expression as he watched the new game in progress—Junior had just thrown the ball into the sand, furious with Stretch for not div
ing for the ball. Expert players, tanned, long and lithe and dressed in sports bras and cutoffs, the sisters were rarely upset with each other’s ability, but now, with taunts from the men, their irritation was obvious.

Her sisters would have to fend for themselves; Sidney had her own problem, sitting beside her, and he wasn’t friendly. “I’m glad for him, I guess. We really were friends.”

“Mmm. That’s kind of you.”

She studied him again—then Danya turned slowly to look straight at her and his blue eyes were brilliant with anger. Then she knew—“You did this deliberately, didn’t you? Invite your cousins here to sidetrack my sisters? You did it to get back at me, didn’t you?” she asked uneasily.

“Do you ever play volleyball with your sisters?” he asked tightly.

“You know I’m too short to compete with them. Poker is usually our game of choice, or pool. What’s it to you?” She understood immediately then that he wasn’t going to make friendship easy for her as Ben had.

Danya had always seemed so gentle, so thoughtful, but his smile now was cold…and he avoided her direct question about revenge. “I was just thinking that you don’t seem to be the kind to stick around for a rematch. So, how have you been, Sid?”

Sid.
No lover-talk, no “sweetheart,” no “my darling,” no little tantalizing kisses from those hard strawberry-red lips. A little frightening tingle shimmied up her nape. She hadn’t seen this side of him, the cold, vengeful lover. She could admit that she’d thought of Danya almost every second—and thought of how their lives would be miserable if they married.

Then one of the Stepanov cousins hooted as his serve scored, hitting in bounds, and missed by Stretch, who was lying belly-down on the sand. She jackknifed to her feet, glared at Junior, and placed her hands on her waist. “Rematch?” she shouted hopefully.

“Not a chance. You’re cooking. Steaks and baked potatoes.
Make a pie, too. And make it romantic, will you? Candles, that kind of stuff at the cabin?” Kiril returned.

“Sure, we’ll take that rematch,” Sergei called. “You win, we’ll cook. We win, you cook
and
wear something romantic…girly-date clothes, that sort of stuff.”

Stretch looked at Junior who nodded. “Agreed,” Junior said grimly.

Sidney studied Sergei and Kiril. They were gorgeous and challenging and according to her father, “Roy,” both were single. Apparently Bulldog had been smitten by the happy family image—and the little girl sitting on his lap, giving him a taste of her cookie. Bulldog seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself. The picture of her family was flipping into an unfamiliar, scary scene. “This whole setup was just purely evil of you, Danya. Oh, my gosh—”

She watched spellbound as Stretch and Junior dipped under the volleyball net and kissed Kiril and Sergei respectively. They weren’t sweet kisses, rather hard, forceful ones that were resentfully given without touching the men. When the kisses ended, the Stepanov males grinned. “Next time, put your arms around me,” Kiril called, taunting Stretch. “Dare you.”

On her way back the net, Stretch turned to scowl at him. Her return was a dark curse.

Sidney couldn’t take any more of her sisters’ humiliation or Danya’s unexpected cold, hard side. “I’m leaving. Where’s my family staying?”

Danya stood slowly, towering over her. He took her empty snow cone paper and crushed it in his fist, tossing the papers into a nearby trash barrel. “You’re right. You are short.”

His eyes slid coolly down her body and Sidney fought that trembling inside, the need to reach for him. Then those eyes locked with hers. “You look like hell, Sid. You look pale and tired—dreaming about Ben, were you?”