Hardly aware that she’d turned her hand over under his and linked them, she smiled. The connection was more complete than joined fingers, and she couldn’t understand it. This was support, a belief in her, and an encouragement she’d never expected to find.

“Odd that I’d have to come to a Ukrainian carpenter for a pep talk. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He looked back into her eyes. “Your headache’s gone.”

Surprised, she touched her fingers to her temple. “Yes, yes it is.” In fact, she couldn’t remember ever feeling more relaxed. “You could make a fortune with those hands.”

He grinned and slid them up her arms, pushing the sleeves of her jacket along so he could feel the bare flesh beneath. “It’s only a matter of knowing what to do with them, and when.” And he knew exactly how he wanted to use those hands on her. Unfortunately, the timing was wrong.

“Yes, well…” It was happening again, those little licks of fire in the pit of her stomach, the trembling heat along her skin. “I really am grateful, for everything. I should be going.”

“You have time yet.” His fingers glided back down her arms to link with hers. “I haven’t given you your present.”

“Present?” He was drawing her slowly to her feet. Now they were thigh to thigh, her eyes level with his mouth. It was curved and close, sending her system into overdrive.

He had only to lean down. Inches, bare inches. Imagining it nearly drove him crazy. Not an altogether unpleasant feeling, he discovered, this anticipation, this wondering. If she offered, and only when she offered, would he take.

“Don’t you like presents, milaya?”

His voice was like hot cream, pouring richly over her. “I…the report,” she said, remembering. “Weren’t you going to give me your report?”

His thumbs skimmed over her wrist and felt the erratic beat of her pulse. It was tempting, very tempting. “I can send the report. I had something else in mind.”

“Something…” Her own mind quite simply shut down.

He laughed, so delighted with her he wanted to kiss her breathless. Instead he released her hands and walked away. She didn’t move, not an inch as he strolled over to the shelves and tossed up the drop cloth. In a moment he was back, pressing the little Cinderella into her hand.

“I’d like you to have this.”

“Oh, but…” She tried, really tried to form a proper refusal. The words wouldn’t come.

“You don’t like?”

“No. I mean, yes, of course I like it, it’s exquisite. But why?” Her fingers were already curving possessively around it when she lifted her eyes to his. “Why would you give it to me?”

“Because she reminds me of you. She’s lovely, fragile, unsure of herself.”

The description had Sydney’s pleasure dimming. “Most people would term her romantic.”