Cait London - Total Package

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.