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still do, the rat. I’m going back to bed, if it’s okay with you.”
    “My bed,” he said quietly, watching her. “I’ll be gone. You might as well use it. You’ve got sugar on your fingers—shame to waste it.”
    Sidney watched, riveted as Danya’s dark head bent and his warm mouth closed over each fingertip, sucking it.
    The quivery sensations shot up her arm and down her body to lodge low in her belly; her mouth dried and her throat tightened as she stared at him. When Danya’s head lifted, he smiled at her and her heart did some flip-flop thing. “No finger licking,” she said unevenly.
    “But it would be a shame to waste, would it not?” His voice was deep and intimate, his phrasing formal.
    “I guess it’s okay this time.”
    Danya had kept her hand, holding it as they turned to watch the dim morning, rain slashing the windows.
    Sidney held very still. She was very aware of him, of how large his body was to hers, of his body heat, of his hand, rough against hers. “So, chum. Are you going to be okay today? I mean, if I go to sleep, will you be okay?”
    “Of course. I have work to do. Work is good. You are welcome here.”
    “Thanks. Maybe I will sleep in. A good morning for that.”
    He seemed to tense, and those blue eyes flashed down at her. “Yes,” Danya said unevenly, “A very good morning for staying in bed.”
     

    Danya tried to focus on the cabinets his brother and he were installing into the family room addition, but his mind was on Sidney—lying in his bed.
    At three o’clock in the afternoon, the day was clearing, and he’d already had several calls on his cell phone from his obviously amused family—Sidney had seemed concerned for him and was hunting him. She’d been to the Stepanov Furniture factory, talked with Fadey and Viktor, Danya’s father, who had found her to be fresh and delightful. She’d taken pictures of Fadey and Viktor in a spirited folk dance, and she’djoined them in it. Danya’s father said he had hugged her—a traditional big bear hug, kissing both sides of her cheeks, and “she felt like a sweet little bird in his arms, before she squirmed away.”
    According to Mikhail’s report, she’d worked in her suite at the Amoteh Resort, requesting a sandwich from room service. Alexi’s cell phone had rung several times, and from his brother’s expression, Danya knew that the entire family was watching the “Sidney situation.” She had been careful to ask that someone was with him and to pinpoint his quitting time. She’d murmured something obscure, “He’s a lonely kind of guy. I really don’t think he should be left alone.”
    Mikhail and Jarek, Danya’s cousins, were sitting on sawhorses now, using the excuse of a coffee break to come to the remodeling project. Apparently their wives were seeking information about the woman Danya had brought back to his cabin, and needed their husbands to scout for information. Danya didn’t want the whole Stepanov clan to descend upon Sidney, frightening her away. “She is…unusual…sweet…and completely unaware that she is so—feminine and fascinating. She considers us to be buddies. I prefer to keep it that way.”
    “Of course,” Mikhail agreed firmly. “I’ve met her. She’s fast moving, thorough, and completely professional. She doesn’t want a man opening a door for her, but she will open them for a man—quite unusual woman, eats on the run and seems in perpetual motion. The models like her, but she doesn’t want any ‘hugging, sloppy stuff,’ as she says. She strikes me as a person who is more of an observer of life, rather than one who actually lives with day-to-day relationships.”
    “Not a clue that you want her, hmm?” Jarek asked.
    “She’s just been hurt by man who married someone else. I met her up on Strawberry Hill last night and she needed a place to stay away from the resort. I intend to give her time to adjust to a comfortable relationship.”
    Alexi grinned broadly. “So