Twenty minutes into dinner and Wheeler was forced to accept that Gregor was not only an attractive man but also a pleasant one. He smiled in all the right places, asked all the right questions, and genuinely seemed interested in the work of the Planeteers. In vain, Wheeler tried to hate him. In vain, he tried to find fault with his demeanour, searching for a hidden agenda, or even the tiniest scrap of evidence that the Russian had a nefarious plot to hand. But consistently Wheeler came up empty, finding Gregor to be nothing but a charming, industrious, and good-natured man.

It was fucking infuriating.

Also infuriating — wildly so, in fact — was Linka. For all their earlier, somewhat sordid encounter, Linka seemed determined to ignore him, reserving her shy smiles and sideways glances for Gregor and Gregor alone. Every time her eyes so much as strayed to Wheeler, catching his gaze for even the smallest of moments, she would instantly look away, either down to the floor or back to Gregor. Wheeler, undeterred, continued to stare at her sullenly, even when Gi elbowed him in the ribs and asked him for what was apparently the third time to pass the salt.

Linka was flirting with Gregor, Wheeler was almost sure of it. She was still wearing that blue dress, with the strap still falling over one shoulder, leaving her skin bare. She was fluttering her eyelashes, long and dark against the peach of her skin, and biting on her lower lip, pink and plush and infinitely kissable. For a man who — not a week previous — had scarcely allowed himself to think about Linka's lips, Wheeler suddenly found he couldn't get them off his mind. Where his best friend Linka once stood, there was now the definite presence of a woman; a woman who was all soft skin and green eyes, with long legs and perfect breasts poured into a skimpy blue dress. Quite frankly, Wheeler couldn't believe he'd never noticed her before. Certainly, all he seemed capable of now was looking at her, seeing, as if for the first time, all her beauty, grace and downright sexiness.

Yes, Linka had wanted him to notice her and he'd fallen for her bait, caught hook, line and sinker. And now he sat, still caught in her net, while she ignored him in favour of another man.

It was infuriating. It was irritating. But perversely, it was incredibly arousing too, because he knew — from the way she occasionally held his eyes, full of daring and sass — that this was a test, just another move forward in the game he'd unwittingly begun playing with her.

She wasn't throwing him any crumbs.

She wanted to be swallowed whole.

Abruptly, Wheeler stood, going into the kitchen with his plate.

'What?' Gi asked. She'd been on dinner duty with Ma-Ti, and scanned Wheeler's half finished plate worriedly. 'Is there something wrong with the food?'

'Nope, food's great,' Wheeler replied cheerfully. 'It's my own fault...' he trailed off, catching Linka's gaze and holding it. 'I had a snack earlier that almost filled me up. Almost.'

Linka blushed, and Wheeler looked at her pointedly.

'There's pie for dessert,' Ma-Ti offered cheerfully. 'Would you like some now? I can get it ready for you.'

'Thanks,' Wheeler said, without tearing his eyes away from Linka. 'But not right now.'

'It is cherry,' Ma-Ti replied. 'Are you sure?'

Wheeler stared at Linka for a heartbeat longer than necessary. 'Well, I do like something tart and tangy on the tongue,' he remarked, watching as Linka shifted in her seat. 'But later, maybe.'

Kwame cleared his throat. 'Honestly, our guest has not even finished his meal and you are already talking of dessert,' he chastised Wheeler. 'Come and sit back down, friend, and let Gregor finish his food.'

Wheeler shrugged. 'Of course. I wouldn't dream of denying our guest anythin',' he said. 'Just let me get a drink first.'

'In Russia, you know, it is a tradition to take a cold drink of vodka between courses,' Gregor offered, and Wheeler grinned.

'Is that a fact?' he asked. 'Lin, we got vodka in the house at the moment?'

'You know we do,' she retorted icily, and Wheeler saw Kwame and Ma-Ti turn to her, surprised by the snap to her voice.

'Where?' He asked, though he knew full well where it was kept. He often joined Linka for a quick shot of vodka, and knew exactly where it was stored in the freezer.

Linka shot him a look that was pure daggers. 'The freezer,' she said coldly. 'In the utility room.'

'The utility room?' Wheeler needled her, scratching his head for effect. 'Are you sure? I can't seem to find it.'

'God, Yankee, you are impossible—' Linka began, standing and walking into the kitchen. She stalked past him, heading to the back of the kitchen and stepping into the side room where they kept their chest freezer, washing machine and dishwasher. Wheeler quickly followed her, watching as she snapped open the lid, pulling out the frozen bottle and shoving it into his hands. Deftly, before she could leave, Wheeler placed the bottle on the shelf behind him and hauled Linka into his arms. He held her close for a moment, feeling the warmth of her body on his cold hands, before sitting her on top of the washing machine and stepping between her legs.

'Didn't I warn you?' he whispered into her ear. 'About not throwin' crumbs?'

Beneath him, Linka inhaled sharply.

'I was not sure,' she began slowly, 'if that was a warning, or...'

'Or?' Wheeler asked.

Linka blushed. 'Or a promise.'

He grinned, nuzzling her neck gently. 'Whatever you want it to be, Babe.'

She sighed at that, her fingers tracing his hips, resting on the hem of his shirt. He nuzzled her again, brushing his lips against her ear. It was a surprisingly tender moment and Wheeler paused, suddenly uncertain as a tremor of affection for her ran through him.

'Are you sure you really want this?' he asked, and Linka looked up at him, her fingers stilling on the fabric of his shirt.

'Do you?' she returned, her voice tremulous.

'I wasn't,' he answered honestly. 'I wasn't sure at all. But this isn't about what I want, Babe. It's about what you want.'

Linka continued to stare up at him. 'Why were you not sure?' she queried him, her green eyes wide and almost glowing in the muted light of the utility room.

Wheeler sighed. 'Because I love you, Lin.'

Linka's eyes grew wider. 'Wheeler—'

Wheeler swore under his breath. 'Not like that, Babe. I didn't mean I...' he sighed, pushing his hands into her hair and running his fingers through her tresses. 'I mean, you're my best friend, and I don't wanna do anythin' to jeopardise that.'

'We can put our friendship to the side,' Linka suggested, and Wheeler nodded, although her words did little to push away the small knot of worry that had begun to build in his stomach. 'Besides, we only have to... well, it would just be one time,' she added, and the knot grew bigger, so much so that Wheeler had to take a deep breath.

'One time?' he repeated.

'Yes,' Linka replied, her voice suddenly confident and sure. 'One time will be sufficient to... well—'

With a growl, Wheeler pulled sharply on Linka's hair, so that her head tilted backwards, exposing her lips and throat to him. 'What's with you and Gregor out there?' he demanded, and Linka's eyelashes fluttered on her cheeks. She was enjoying this, Wheeler realised. She liked it when he played the hungry beast with her.

'He is a friend,' Linka said simply, but Wheeler could read her better than anyone, and he heard the lilt to her voice.

'But you'd like him to be more,' he remarked coldly. He gave a bitter laugh. 'Lemme guess... you want me to deflower you so he can enjoy nibbling on the stalk afterwards?'

At that, Linka pushed against him, trying to struggle out of his arms, but Wheeler held on to her firmly. 'Always one step ahead of the rest of us, aren't you Babe?' he whispered, stroking his hand down from her hair to her shoulder, pushing that infernally slipping strap back up. He allowed his hand to linger on her skin, drifting downwards this time, skirting gently over the curve of her breast. Linka's eyes softly closed and she relaxed into his caress. 'Plottin' and plannin' it all, hey?' Wheeler carried on, enjoying the feel of her against him, just as he enjoyed the breathy sighs coming from her mouth. 'You set me up, Lin. Planted a thought in my mind and then encouraged it to grow. You set me up.'

Wheeler couldn't help the admiration that seeped into his voice, just as he couldn't help himself from pressing his fingers down a little more firmly, searching out the small bud of her nipple through the fabric of her dress. When he found it, Linka gave a small moan, and desire rippled through Wheeler strongly.

Fuck it, Wheeler decided. He wanted her.

'I'm not angry at you,' he shook his head. 'Because you know what? I've decided I'm gonna enjoy this. And you know what else? If we're gonna do this, we're gonna do it my way.'

'Your way?' whispered Linka, her hands moving across his shirt again.

'Yeah,' Wheeler confirmed. 'My way. Don't worry,' he added as an afterthought. 'You're gonna enjoy it.'

She was clever, his girl. And witty too. So, Wheeler waited for a barbed response, or some other form of the repartee Linka normally used to deflect and distract. But instead, she gazed at him, nodding slowly and licking her lips.

'Your way,' she agreed softly. 'I trust you, Yankee.'

Wheeler stared at her, suddenly floored. She trusted him. Linka spoke honestly, without any guile or game-playing, and something inside of Wheeler warmed at her words. He knew enough about Linka to understand that she never gave trust easily, that it was an honour she bestowed rarely upon a chosen few. That she trusted him with her mind and now also her body made him feel oddly proud, and the knot of worry in his stomach transformed into a knot of longing. Gently, he ran a finger down her cheek, marvelling at the softness of her skin. He looked into her eyes, only to find hers watching him intently. His face was inches from hers, and he knew, without a doubt, that he was going to kiss her, and kiss her hard. And from the look in Linka's eyes, she knew it too.

'Tell me to stop,' he begged suddenly, his voice quiet and pained.

'Why?' She asked. 'Do you not want to kiss me?'

'Yeah, I do,' Wheeler answered. 'More than anythin'. But I don't want our first kiss to be like this, Babe. Tell me to stop.'

The romantic sentiment surprised him almost as much as it seemed to surprise her, and that small knot of worry — akin to feeling like he was taking a bite of something too big to chew — washed over him again. But Linka simply nodded once more, moving her hand to his face and holding her palm to his cheek.

'Stop,' she whispered back, and he nodded, stepping away from her. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, before offering it to Linka, helping her down from the washing machine. Wordlessly, she picked up the thawing bottle of vodka, walking away from him and back into the light of the kitchen. Wheeler followed her, immediately finding Gi's eyes resting on him curiously.

'We thought the two of you had got lost,' Kwame remarked cheerfully, and Linka gave a high and entirely false laugh.

'We were waylaid by baseball,' she said, opening the vodka and filling glasses at the table. 'The Orioles played this weekend.'

'Did they win?' Ma-Ti asked, his eyes on Wheeler, and Wheeler shrugged.

'Nah, they never do,' he said, tipping the vodka in his freshly filled glass down his throat. 'They're a terrible team. Gotta get you on to a better team, Babe.'

Linka shrugged back, drinking her own vodka. 'You know me, Yankee. When I am set upon something, I find it very hard to give up. Besides, the Orioles play the Dodgers next. Perhaps luck will be on my side.'

At that, Wheeler met her eyes and held it. He was thinking of their moment in the utility room, and he suspected she was too.

'You're right,' he told her smoothly. 'You know, I gotta feelin' you might get lucky this week, Babe.'

Gregor, who had a vodka in his own hand, looked from Linka to Wheeler and back in confusion.

'Ty sledish' za Amerikanskim beysbolom, Lenka?'

Wheeler felt a flare of irritation run through him.

'Yeah, she does,' he answered sharply, and Gregor looked at him in surprise.

'You speak Russian?' he asked, and Wheeler shrugged.

'Some.'

'Russian is not an easy language to learn,' Gregor replied. 'You must be a man for languages.'

'Not really,' Wheeler replied, suddenly embarrassed. 'It's just, you know, from spendin' time with Lin.'

'Funny that,' Gi interjected. 'You never learned any Korean from me. Or any Swahili from Kwame. Or any...' Gi gestured to Ma-Ti. 'Any, umm...'

'Tucanoan,' Ma-Ti replied easily, without offence. 'But if Wheeler should ever want to learn, I am more than happy to help him. There are only five thousand speakers left of my language. If Wheeler decides to pick it up, he will be five thousand and one.' Ma-Ti gave Wheeler a sideways glance. 'Of course, Wheeler only picks up languages he can romance the ladies in, so Tucanoan may not be his best option.'

Ma-Ti gave Wheeler a wide grin, and Wheeler grinned back, although he made a mental note to get back at the little punk later for that remark.

'Not an entirely fair thing to say, buddy,' Wheeler replied. 'Russian is the only language I've ever learnt more than a handful of words in, and that's all thanks to Lin.'

He gave Linka a warm smile, but she did not return it. Her eyes were resting on Gregor again, and Wheeler felt a dart of irritation. The more he saw Linka interact with Gregor, the more certain he was that she shared a history with him. When had they started writing to one another? Wheeler asked himself. How close had they been before Linka had joined the Planeteers?

Next to him, Gi gave a disbelieving laugh. 'Hah,' she smirked. 'Don't think we don't all remember you simpering in fluent French at... what was her name? Odette? Aurora?'

'Aurelia,' Wheeler replied, his cheeks dusting red.

'Yes,' Kwame said, sitting up. 'You also learned a little Chinese for Xin-Nan. And Hebrew for Elisha.'

'And Portuguese for Maria,' Ma-Ti chipped in.

Wheeler saw Gregor laugh. 'Maybe you are a man for languages after all, Wheeler.'

Wheeler opened his mouth to reply, but Linka abruptly stood, gathering plates from the table. 'He is a man for the ladies,' she snapped. 'And he forgets their language as quickly as he forgets them, by all accounts.'

An icy silence fell over the room, and Wheeler clenched his fists under the table, suddenly angry.

On the other side of the table, Kwame cleared his throat. 'Leave the dishes, Linka,' he said. 'I will do them this evening. Why don't you take your friend for a walk along the beach while Ma-Ti heats up the pie for dessert?'

'Yes,' Linka agreed, throwing down a dish towel. 'Thank you Kwame.'

Wheeler watched as she walked over to Gregor, pulling on his hand and leading him to the door.

'Lin—' he began, but it was too late.

Linka and Gregor had already walked out in the starry night, and he was left at the table, his mouth open, while Gi, Kwame and Ma-Ti looked on awkwardly.

Seven restless hours later, and Wheeler had reached the limits of his self-control. Throwing off his bed covers, he stood, throwing on a pair of sweats and a jacket and marching to Linka's hut. He banged hard on the door, not giving a shit if Gi or Kwame or Ma-Ti or even Gregor overheard.

Or maybe Gregor wouldn't overhear. Maybe he was with her still. It was entirely possible that Linka had decided Wheeler wasn't worth her efforts after all, and had moved on to Gregor with his European good looks, cultured background and sharp intelligence.

Wheeler scowled, banging on her door even harder.

They hadn't returned for any cherry pie. Linka had disappeared with Gregor down the beach, and neither of them had been seen again that evening. Ma-Ti had frowned, before carefully saving two slices of pie, while Gi had gone to bed with a smirk on her face at Wheeler's silent fury. Kwame meanwhile, with gentle empathy written into the features of his face, had patted Wheeler on the back.

'I don't know what is going on with you and Linka,' he had said slowly. 'But she should not have spoken about you that way.'

'It was the truth though, wasn't it?' Wheeler replied, staring sullenly into the remains of his pie. 'She didn't say anythin' that wasn't true.'

'Maybe so,' Kwame had nodded. 'But it was not her place to speak. What we do in our private time, with our own lives — when we get the chance — is our own business.'

Ma-Ti, returning from the utility room, touched the ring on his finger gingerly. 'I have been sensing confusion from Linka recently. Perhaps one of us should talk to her.'

'She has Gregor here,' Wheeler said bitterly. 'None of us will get closer to her with that creep around.'

Wheeler saw Kwame and Ma-Ti exchange glances.

'Gregor seems very personable to me,' Kwame said slowly. 'Perhaps tomorrow, you can spend some time with him. He might improve on you.'

Wheeler tried his best not to roll his eyes, and Kwame sighed tiredly.

'I am going to go to bed,' he told Wheeler and Ma-Ti. 'Sam said he would call me tonight after he got home from work.'

'Say hi to him for us,' Ma-Ti offered, and Kwame nodded, before heading down the beach.

Abruptly, Ma-Ti turned to Wheeler. 'I have sensed confusion from you too, Wheeler,' he stopped, looking at Wheeler keenly. 'This last week... the feelings from you and Linka have been... well, the same.'

'So?' Wheeler asked, giving a nonchalant shrug.

'So,' Ma-Ti cleared his throat. 'So, whatever is going on with the two of you... well, I think you are on the same page. I do not know if that helps you or not, with whatever is going on. But I thought you should know.'

It didn't help. Not then, and not now, while Wheeler thundered on Linka's door. The same fucking page. Really? Anger flowed through him like fiery lava, and he felt another rise of it, spurring him on.

He was going to have it out with her. Linka had stepped too far, and all night Wheeler had lain in bed, getting angrier and angrier as he recalled Linka's parting words to him. It had been a cheap shot, and one she knew would get under his skin. There was, for all Wheeler's bluster, a degree of shame in how he dealt with women. He was young and his life was busy, and he took comfort in the brief but pleasant relationships he had with the women he met through the course of his job. Wheeler liked women. He liked talking with them, he liked being with them, but most of all he liked sleeping with them. Sex was a sure-fire way of calming him down, of taking the edge off of a life that quite frequently courted danger and risk. Would he have liked a steady girlfriend? Sure, of course. If he ever met the right girl, that would be great. But he hadn't, and so he went from girl to girl, always faithful to the one he was with even if he was always looking over his shoulder for the next one. The right one maybe.

Linka knew that Wheeler was uncomfortable with his chequered romantic history. Knew that there was always lingering guilt for the girls he'd forgotten to call back, or gradually let slip away. She knew this and yet she'd still chosen to needle him about it, and in front of her would-be boyfriend too. Wheeler was not just angry, he was fucking livid.

After a few minutes, it became apparent that Linka was not in her cabin, and Wheeler swallowed heavily, realising that this must mean she was with Gregor. Had she slept with him? Probably. It was something she'd been determined to do, and if he knew Linka as well as he did, she would have jumped at the first opportunity to check it off her 'to do' list.

Fucking A-types. Wheeler scowled as he turned away from Linka's door, running a hand through his hair and debating on what to do next. Knocking on the door to the guest cabin certainly appealed, but what would he say when Gregor opened the door? Sorry, there's been an error, you just fucked my best friend and I was supposed to do that first. Hope you understand. Wheeler cringed. No. He couldn't do that.

The best course of action was to go back to his cabin and try and get in a few hours of sleep before morning. Already the sky was streaked with light purple, the orange of the sun a half hour from rising, birds calling noisily in the distance. But Wheeler knew he wouldn't sleep, knew that he would return to his bed and toss and turn as he had done all night. With a sigh, he turned towards the beach, hoping a walk along the sand would calm his fractured mind and soul, piecing them back together. Wheeler shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked at a pace, kicking occasionally at the sand at his feet and feeling, as he always did, that lull of peace wash over him as the waves crashed against the shore. For ten minutes, he blindly walked, hardly noticing his surroundings but feeling calmed by both the landscape and exercise.

The sun began to crest over the ocean, and Wheeler looked up, taking a deep lungful of the sea breeze. It was then, with the first rays of the sun lighting the golden tones to her hair, that he saw her. Linka, alone and sitting by the palm trees, her head resting on her bent knees, staring at him.

Wheeler took another deep breath, but he didn't move. For a moment, he simply stared back at her, feeling another rise of his indignant fury from the night before. Now was his chance, he realised. Now was his moment to thrash it out with her, to yell and berate and indulge in his anger, away from the other Planeteers and Gregor.

His mind made up, he purposefully strode up to her, opening his mouth to begin his tirade. But he stopped when he looked down to see tears stinging Linka's eyes, and she chewed on her lip sadly. He dropped to his knees in front of her, reaching over to cup her face in his hands. Behind him, he could hear the roar of the ocean, while above came the sound of the birds singing in the trees. He stroked Linka's cheeks gently, before a splash of colour in the tree above them caught his eyes. He glanced up, Linka's eyes following the direction of his.

A Bahamas Oriole, he realised. The bird that had brought them together all those years ago. He couldn't help the smile that drifted over his face, and when he looked back down, he saw that Linka was smiling too. He stroked his fingers over her lips, tracing the gentle curve of her happiness. Her eyes were bright, lit by the rising sun behind him, and focused only on him.

'Tell me to stop,' he whispered, but this time Linka shook her head.

'No.'

It was all the invitation he needed. Leaning towards her, he brought his lips to hers, feeling their softness and warmth beneath his own. After that brief touch he pulled away, looking into her eyes, wanting — no, needing — to know if she was okay.

'Tell me to stop,' he asked again, but Linka shook her head once more.

'No.'

Once again he leaned forward, and once again he kissed her.

And this time, he didn't stop.