Total Package by Cait London Page A

maroon that she hauled from a tote bag at every available moment.
    Miss February was skimming her notebook with one perfectly manicured fingernail, and talking earnestly on her cell phone. She was probably trading stocks and building her portfolio.
    They were a good bunch, even if they were models and did obscene things to enhance their beauty, Sidney decided as she snapped away at the various models, waiting their turn at the camera. The models weren’t so bad, really—if they didn’tpush to remake her into something she wasn’t. Bulldog had never liked primpers.
    Sidney directed Miss November’s body draped over the light gray driftwood log. “Elbows back, face up, this way…just a little. Earl, get that strand of hair away from her face, and do something with that lip gloss—it’s picking up too much sun….”
    Because the day was warm and she was moving fast, leaping upon driftwood for better angles, crouching on the sand for upward shots, Sidney had skimmed down to her comfortable cutoff jean shorts and a sturdy black sports bra that allowed more freedom.
    Sidney granted a long lunch break and rest for the models; they would begin calendar work again at three o’clock in the afternoon. Meanwhile, she placed a shirt over her sports bra and strolled around Amoteh, taking in the sights. She shot the colorful shops on the pier, the seagulls high in the clear blue sky, vacationers strolling hand in hand.
    She spread a beach towel on the sand, leaned back and closed her eyes. She tried to picture Ben, a blond scholarly looking man, and instead Danya’s rugged image came into her mind.
    She thought she caught his scent, and smiled softly, then slowly opened her eyes to see Danya looking down at her. He was standing close and the wind had caught his hair, taking it back from those vivid blue eyes. “Hi,” she whispered.
    “Hi. Tired?”
    “Mmm. Just relaxing. Sit down and pull up a piece of sand.”
    He sat beside her, staring out into the ocean, and Sidney studied him. “We were talking earlier about linking up—you know, men and women. What more do you need, Danya? I mean other than sex.”
    He watched a seagull darting among the strands of seaweed lying on the sand and took his time in answering. “I am old-fashioned. I need romance, I suppose.”
    “Kissing, foreplay, after play, et cetera. That kind of stuff?”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “French kissing? Open lips, tongue on tongue, that sort of thing?”
    He sounded strangled and cleared his throat. His gaze lowered to her chest and Sidney realized that she was too warm—probably because of the afternoon sun, magnified by the ocean waves—and her nipples had unexplainably hardened beneath the spandex confinement. “That would be acceptable,” Danya agreed slowly.
    “But all that would take a lot of time.”
    “That’s true.”
    She had to have more answers. Ben had never wanted to talk about sex, and neither had Bulldog. In fact, Sidney’s father got all flustered, huffy and reddish when his daughters pressed him. Danya seemed to have reliable information and wasn’t averse to answering questions. “But—say one partner or the other got really aroused, and things went too fast and gee, there you were, all ready and nowhere to go?”
    “I would take extreme care to see that my partner was—satisfied.”
    She patted his thigh. “I’m sure you would.”
    She wondered, while staring into Danya’s very blue eyes, what would happen if her hand just happened to wander upward. She squeezed lightly, testing the solid pad of muscles beneath the denim.
    “Don’t,” he ordered unevenly as his hand clamped over hers. “Don’t even think about it. You’re scaring me.”
    “Who me?” she asked and tried for a bland, innocent expression.
    Danya inhaled abruptly, scowled at her, and stood. “I’ve got to get back to work.”
    Sidney came to her feet slowly. She didn’t want him to go. She stood looking up at him, helpless with her emotions. Sidney