Chapter Two
Ryan made sure not to give away his surprise at Vicki's greeting. Clearly, she needed to make it seem like they were an item, because the rich douche bag she was having a drink with in the private room had been hitting on her. And no wonder.
She was gorgeous.
She'd been a pretty teenager, but now Vicki was everything he loved in a woman, wrapped up in one gorgeous package. Long hair that brushed over the swell of her breasts, the sweet curve of her h*ps from her waist, killer legs in high-heeled sandals.
Oh yes, the years had been good to his old friend. So good, in fact, that it didn't take any acting ability whatsoever to reach for her hand and tug her into his arms.
"Sorry I'm early, baby. I could have sworn you said you'd be free by eight."
God, she felt good. Warm and soft in all the right places. She smelled just as good, like flowers blooming in the sun mixed with the earthy hint of the clay she was always working with.
She was stiff for a moment in his arms before she seemed to remember that they were pretending they were an item. Her hands shifted around Ryan's back, before settling in just above his hips.
"Thank you," she whispered as she hugged him, before saying an even softer, "I'm sorry."
Didn't she know she didn't have a damn thing to apologize for? She'd saved his life when they were kids. He still owed her for that, would owe her for the rest of their lives.
Pretending to be her boyfriend for one night wasn't even close to paying her back.
Especially when it meant he finally got to live out his secret fantasy.
Six years after she'd moved away from Palo Alto, he'd headed out from California to New York City to surprise her at her college graduation. She hadn't mentioned any guy in her life in the emails they frequently sent back and forth when they were supposed to be studying, so when he saw her walk into the graduation ceremony on the arm of an older man who had clearly claimed her, and she looked so happy and glowing, the jealousy and frustration almost flattened him.
He'd been too late again.
Ryan had left her graduation without ever letting her know he'd come and the next thing he knew there was a breathless voice mail from her saying that she'd eloped and was moving to France.
He couldn't help feeling that he'd just lost something vital...even though he'd never had her as anything but a friend in the first place. For the next ten years, she'd lived all over Europe with her husband, and after her fairly recent divorce had settled in Prague. Ryan had been toying with a trip to see her at the end of the baseball season. Instead, she'd come to San Francisco. And he was damn glad about it.
As she pulled back from their hug, he threaded their fingers together. He'd seen enough of his brothers and sisters fall in love this past year to know how it was supposed to look.
Always touching.
Adoring glances.
Little kisses when they thought no one was looking...and even when they were.
"James, I'd like to you meet Ryan Sullivan. My b - " When she momentarily stumbled over the tag, he pulled her closer into him. " - boyfriend. Ryan, this is James Sedgwick. You know how I've told you that he's one of the foremost authorities on modern art?" She gave Ryan a blinding smile that didn't reach her eyes. "James and I have been discussing my latest project for the fellowship competition. He has some very constructive suggestions for me."
"What can I get you to drink, Mr. Sullivan?" James gestured to the heavily laden glass table against the wall.
"Call me Ryan," he said in as easy a voice as he could manage, given the fact that he wanted to pound James's head into the marble tabletop. "A beer would go down great, thanks."
"Of course. If you will excuse me for a moment."
Ryan had counted on James needing to head out to the bar to get his drink. As soon as the creep left, he said, "What the hell is going on here, Vicki?"
She shook her head, looking too pale and worried for his peace of mind. "I'll tell you everything later. Just keep playing along. Please."
James returned seconds later and Vicki gulped from her wine glass as the man handed the beer bottle to Ryan with clear distaste. "The bartender assured me you wouldn't need a glass. I must congratulate you on your record season, Ryan." James turned his attention back to Vicki. "I'm surprised you didn't tell me who your boyfriend was before now. I'm very...impressed."
This time she didn't stumble as she smoothly replied, "I didn't realize you were a baseball fan, James." She turned to Ryan and smiled. "I should know by now that everyone is a fan of yours, shouldn't I?"
She said it with such affection that even Ryan found himself believing that they were a couple for a moment. It was pure instinct to gently smooth the pad of his thumb over the faint drop of wine left on the corner of her bottom lip.
Her eyes flashed with sudden heat at the unexpected touch, and he wanted to kiss her, needed to find out just how sweet she would taste. Telling himself it would help them look like an item in front of this guy, Ryan dipped his head and pressed his mouth to hers.
So many years he'd waited for this moment, and sweet Lord, if it wasn't even better than he thought it would be. The surface of her lips tasted like red wine and sugar and all Ryan wanted was to deepen the kiss and keep kissing her for hours. When he finally managed to pull back from the softest, sweetest mouth he'd ever tasted, Vicki's skin was flushed.
"James and I were just talking about how being able to take criticism is one of the most important elements of creating great art." Her voice seemed a little higher than usual and Ryan was pleased that one little kiss had had such an effect on her. "What was it you were saying when Ryan joined us?"
"Simply that anyone can mold clay into shapes," James informed Ryan with a nod. "But it takes a true artist to heed wise direction. I'm sure you experience the same thing with your pitching coach, don't you?"
Ryan shrugged, even as his hand fisted behind Vicki's back. "It's a give and take. The pitching coach trusts my experience on the mound." He paused a beat before adding, "And I trust him not to abuse his power by convincing me to do things I shouldn't be doing."
James's bland expression didn't waver the slightest bit at Ryan's not-so-subtle warning. Vicki, on the other hand, squeezed his hand hard enough for him to know she wasn't entirely pleased by the way he was playing the situation.
Ryan got it. She didn't want to piss the guy off. But she had to know when she texted him tonight, and then called him honey the second he walked into the room, that he would make damn sure to protect her.
No matter what.
"Sounds like I interrupted an important discussion," he said with another easy smile that he didn't even come close to feeling. "I used to do the same thing when Vicki and I were kids. I'd swing by her house to hang out and she'd barely even look up from what she was working on. But I was totally mesmerized by her and her sculptures, even at fifteen."
Back in high school, everyone had expected him to stick with the other jocks and the cheerleaders, but after a night game he was always glad to know he'd find Vicki in her garage at her potting wheel. Her hands would be covered in clay, with little splatters on her face and body. She'd look up and smile to let him know she saw him, but she wouldn't stop, wouldn't drop everything for him the way everyone else always did. He'd keep making jokes until she'd finally laugh and tell him he was bothering her, but then they'd talk. For hours, sometimes, as she created art right before his eyes. He didn't always understand what she was making with such intense purpose. But even though he wasn't an expert in modern art, he'd known without a doubt that she was special. Vicki was never afraid to reach, or head out of bounds, or screw up and start over a hundred times in a row.
"Vicki is pretty damn amazing, isn't she, James?"
James bared his teeth at Ryan in what he assumed was supposed to pass as a smile. "As I'm sure she's told you, everyone on the fellowship board is eager for her project to make the mark. Which is why I was so pleased that we could meet tonight to address a few specific issues. Victoria wouldn't be a contender for the fellowship if I didn't think she had potential."
Potential? This a-hole thought Vicki had potential?
When she was a teenager she had potential. A decade and a half later, her sculptures were nothing short of masterful. Ryan should know, considering he owned a half-dozen.
He had a choice to make. He could either grab James by the throat and slam him against the wall for minimizing Vicki's incredible talent...or he could get them both the hell out of there before he said or did something that would ruin her chances for the fellowship this guy was in charge of.
Turning to Vicki, he brushed a lock of hair back from her face. "I really feel like an idiot for getting the timing all wrong, baby, but Smith is holding the private screening for us tonight, and you know how much he values your opinion." He worked like hell to feign regret at having to pull her away. "We'd better get you over to his house before he throws one of his movie star tantrums."
James immediately stood up, clearly more than a little pissed off at the turn his evening with Vicki had taken. "I can see you have other plans, Victoria. And while I'm disappointed that we didn't make more progress together, I'm sure if you're as serious about this fellowship as you seemed to be at the outset, you will let me know when you have time to meet again privately. Good night to both of you."
* * *
"What were you doing in here alone with that asshole?"
Since the day she moved away at the end of their Sophomore year in high school, whenever Vicki had thought of Ryan Sullivan, she'd always pictured him laughing.
He wasn't laughing now.
On the contrary, his gaze was so intense that a shiver ran up her spine.
Her breath had gone from the first moment Ryan had walked into the private cocktail lounge. It was no different from the way she'd felt around him at fifteen. No wonder, given that he'd only become better looking over the years. No longer a gorgeous boy, he was all man now.
And, oh my, the way Ryan kissed, even when it was no more than just his lips against hers...
Working overtime to get her brain to click back into gear on the problem at hand, she was about to answer him when she looked down at their hands, still linked together.
The last thing she wanted was to let his hand go, but she knew better than to pretend that any of this was real, no matter how tempting it was to do just that. So even though she'd wanted to hold his hand like this since they were teenagers, Vicki forced herself to slide her fingers from his.
"James came by the fellowship building this morning and asked if he could stay to watch me work for a while. I assumed it was part of his critiquing style. You know, that he was just as interested in my technique as in the finished sculpture."
"How long did he watch you?"
"Twenty minutes, maybe." Twenty incredibly long and icky minutes in which she'd felt like James had been studying her more closely than her project. "The thing is, before he left, he really did have some brilliant suggestions for me."
So brilliant that she had let herself write off his slightly creepy behavior as purely artistic interest.
"And then later, at a welcome party the fellowship board threw for all of the applicants, he told me that the top candidates were going to be meeting here afterward."
"There were supposed to be other people here?"
"By the time I arrived, he said everyone else had already dropped in and that he was glad it was just down to us tonight so that he could give me special attention."
Bile rose in her throat as she remembered the way he'd moved closer and closer during their conversation and started touching her arm and then her hands - even when he had to know how off-limits a sculptor's hands were. What he'd said to her hadn't been much better: I've coached many other talented sculptors toward greatness. It's considered quite an honor to work under me. Especially as I know you're all alone in San Francisco, I feel that I could really help you make your way here by introducing you to everyone you should know. Doesn't that sound good to you, Victoria?
It was one thing to trust the wrong man at twenty-two. But she'd been in the art world long enough by now to know better than to be so naively flattered by a powerful man's attention.
"Jesus, Vicki, why didn't you kick him in the nuts and get the hell out of here?"
"I wanted to," she said softly, "but the fact is that regardless of what you and I think of him, James Sedgwick is one of the leaders of the West Coast art world. The only thing I could think of doing that wouldn't jeopardize my chances at the fellowship was to pretend that I was seeing someone so that he wouldn't take my rejection of his advances personally and turn it against me. That was when I went into the bathroom to text you." She'd prayed that Ryan would not only get her messages, but come right away. Which he had, thank God.
But even after her explanation, Ryan still said, "You need to turn him in to the rest of the fellowship board."
She sighed. "I doubt it would do any good when everything he's done so far could so easily be argued as me mistaking friendly support for something more. He hasn't done or said anything blatantly threatening."
"I saw him put his hands on you," Ryan growled.
"He's an art critic and curator, with a specialty in sculpture, so everyone knows it's a very touchy-feely job in a lot of respects. I'm sure if I raised a stink and called him on it, he would just laugh and say he's like that with men and women and sculptures alike. And in the end, it would only hurt my chances for the fellowship by deflecting attention away from my project."
Ryan stared at her for several long moments. "You really want this, don't you?"
In those final months leading up to her divorce, Vicki's ex-husband Anthony had told her again and again that the only reason she'd had any success at all was because he was one of the foremost sculptors in the world, and that she'd be nothing without him. Since then, she'd heard whispers from friends in the European art community that he'd been working to turn people against her. She wouldn't be at all surprised to find out that it was true. His once awestruck wife leaving had been a blow that Anthony's ego had never seen coming.
Vicki had come to San Francisco to win the coveted fellowship and prove once and for all that she had what it took to make it as a sculptor. Not just to her ex, but to herself.
It was long past time to prove to herself that she hadn't wasted her life chasing a dream.
"I do want it, Ryan." She paused. "But even more than that, I need it. It's the next step for me and my career, the perfect way to start fresh and build my reputation as a sculptor in the United States. So if I win the fellowship - "
"When you win it," he cut in.
" - I want to know that I got it because of the quality of my work." Not because she'd agreed under pressure to sleep with one of the board members.
"I wanted to kill the creep for touching you." A muscle jumped in Ryan's jaw. "Hell, I still want to tear him apart for even looking at you the wrong way."
"All these years, when I thought about us seeing each other again, I never thought it would be like this. I'm really sorry for roping you into my mess."
"I like ropes," he teased her with the naughty grin he was so famous for.
How could she do anything but smile back at the most beautiful man she'd ever set eyes on? Vicki was amazed to find out nothing had changed since they were teenagers. Ryan was still just as able to send heat all through her body as he was to make her laugh.
She'd never met anyone like him before or since.
His hair was lighter than most of his siblings, shot through with highlights due to all of his time spent in the sun. His long-sleeved cotton shirt had an extra button open at the top, giving her a glimpse of just enough tanned skin to make her lose her train of thought all over again.
"Promise me you won't be alone with him again, Vicki."
"Don't worry, I won't make that mistake again. Thanks again for being my ten-minute boyfriend."
"Ten minutes?" Ryan looked surprised to be let off the hook so easily. "When is the board going to decide on the fellowship?"
"Next week."
"In that case, sign me up to be your one-week boyfriend."
"What? No. You can't do that for me." When Ryan lifted an eyebrow at her quick refusal, she said, "Seriously, thank you so much for stepping in tonight. But you don't have to pretend to be dating me for a week. If James asks about the two of us, I'll just explain that we had a fight and are taking a break. And I'll be beyond careful not to put myself in any more situations like this with him again."
Unfortunately, Ryan looked anything but convinced. "You asked me to come here tonight because you felt like you were all out of options, right?"
She blew out a breath. "Right."
"When we were kids, you were nearly killed pushing me out of the way of that car. You saved me, Vicki. Big time. Now it's my turn to return the favor."
Everyone thought Ryan Sullivan was so easygoing. And it was true that he was quick with laughter, that he made everything look easy. But she knew how much focus went into his ease. When she'd be at her potting wheel in her parents' garage, he'd throw balls at a soft target he set up on her driveway over and over until her fingers were working in time to the constant thud of the ball into the target.
Now, his focus was on protecting her from James's less than pure intentions. Ryan was too great not to back her up. And he wouldn't dream of walking away if he thought she needed him.
He reached into his wallet and tossed a couple of twenties down on the table. "Let's get out of here. This place gives me the creeps."
She felt the same way, surrounded by all that leather and velvet. Everyone at the Pacific Union Club looked like they had metal beams shoved up their you-know-whats.
Ryan stood up, then waited for her to scoot over to the edge of the couch. And even though she knew his sweetly seductive kiss had all been part of their big act, she was hyperaware of her body around him.
The fact that her dress was hiking higher and higher up her thighs as she slid along the couch.
The knowledge that he must have a perfect view of her ample cleavage. The expensive, sky-high heels she'd put on to pretend an Army brat like her belonged in a place like this.
His hand was warm on her back as they headed for the exit. She tried to remind herself that it was no different than what any other gentleman would have done. But her body refused to listen.
How could it, when it felt so good to be touched by him?
She'd never been more glad for fresh air. Now all she needed to do was STOP THINKING ABOUT THAT KISS and everything would be fine. Which, unfortunately, meant she should probably call it a night. Because every second she spent with Ryan only made her want to do it again.
"Why didn't you call me to tell me you were back in town?"
"I know how busy you are with the team and your family and - " Your girls. " - your social life."
"I'm never too busy for a friend."
It was exactly why she'd texted him. Because she knew that if anyone would come through for her in a pinch, it would be Ryan. He'd always been different from the other men she knew. Not just because he was worlds better looking than the rest of them, but because she'd never doubted how much he liked her.
After the star-struck valet asked for an autograph and then went to fetch Ryan's car, he asked, "Where's your hotel?"
Not wanting him to see the dump she was staying in for the time being, she said, "In the Mission. But I can take a cab." A bus, actually, because she didn't have the money to waste on a taxi.
His eyes narrowed. "The Mission? No way. We're going to get your things and you're moving in with me."
Shock rolled through her at his suggestion. "I can't move in with you, Ryan."
"Of course you can."
He was so sure. Was acting like it all made sense, like her moving in with him was no different than his giving her a ride home.
"You have a life and I can't just barge in on it."
Honestly, just the thought of being in his house while he was making love to another woman under the same roof practically did her in. Plus, if she were being perfectly honest with herself, she wasn't at all sure she trusted herself to be that close to him without giving in to the urge to strip herself na**d and beg him to take her.
"If I had known you were coming to the city," Ryan said as he pulled into traffic and headed toward the Mission district, "I would have asked you to stay with me. After not getting to see you for so long, I'm planning to keep you here for as long as I can this time."
It was impossible to hold back her smile. Over the years, whenever Ryan had texted or emailed, or if they'd managed to catch each other on the phone for a few minutes, he'd never failed to brighten up her day.
It was lovely to know that he seemed to feel the same way.
How had the years come and gone between them so fast? She'd moved away from the Bay Area after sophomore year and slogged her way through to high school graduation in the Midwest before finally escaping to art school in New York City. She'd loved every minute of finally being with people she understood and who seemed to understand her. Still, she'd always missed Ryan and had even tried to attend a couple of his College World Series games on the east coast, but the game dates and her test schedules had always conflicted.
Before she knew it, she'd met Anthony and graduated and was married and living in Europe. Her husband had been possessive and jealous of her platonic relationships with other men.
Especially her friendship with Ryan.
No wonder it had never worked for the two of them to actually meet up again. She'd been too worried about damaging her marriage, and Ryan had obviously been just as wary of getting in the middle of it. It wasn't until she'd finally left the marriage that she felt she could reach out to Ryan again. But by then, according to the tabloids, he was dating an oil heiress. Of course she wasn't going to cry on his attached shoulder. It wouldn't have been fair to him - or to the heiress girlfriend. By the time the tabloids declared his relationship to be over, she'd vowed to get her life back together on her own so she could laugh with him again instead of wasting any more time crying.
She'd thought this fellowship opportunity was going to be a part of finally getting her life back on track, rather than finally being a reason to drag Ryan into her messy life.
He didn't say anything when they got to her motel, but he didn't need to. The disgusted look on his face said it all.
"You should probably stay with your car," she suggested. Wouldn't it be the icing on the cake if his fancy car was broken into or stolen, on top of everything else she'd already put him through tonight?
"Screw my car." He looked around at the very sketchy men and women loitering on the sidewalk. "I'm coming with you."
As they climbed the stairs, the sounds of yelling and crying and babies wailing felt like the perfect soundtrack to the fiasco of her life. She'd never wanted to be the woman in need of saving, had scoffed at girls like that.
And now, here she was, with her very own knight in shining armor.
The only saving grace in the whole thing was that it was Ryan. But even though rationally she knew he wouldn't judge her, she was a little short on rational thought right now.
Mortification, on the other hand, was in healthy supply.
Especially when Ryan got to the bathroom before she could and walked face-first into the bra and panty sets she'd hand-washed in the sink. They were drying on the rusted shower rail, the towel holder, and the doorknobs.
Was he shocked by the fact that her underthings were more suited to a high-class kinkster than a woman who had been a virgin until she was twenty-two and had only slept with one man in her whole life?
She watched as, almost in slow motion, Ryan reached for a pair of panties and the matching bra. Her breath caught in her throat as his fingers slid over the lace.
"Pretty."
She barely had enough breath left in her lungs to say, "Thanks." She moved into the very small bathroom with him. "I can grab the rest of them."
Only, to get to the colorful lace hanging from the curtain rod, she had to slide past the sink and the tub. Which was right where Ryan was standing, still holding her unmentionables. Every inch of her body that came in contact with his felt hot. Super-sensitive. Flustered, she yanked so hard at a particularly naughty bright pink thong that it nearly shredded.
She forced herself to stop, to take a breath, to re-center.
Ryan was her friend. The two of them were never, ever going to be lovers.
Never.
Ever.
So getting all flustered and out of breath and nervous around him like this was ridiculous. They were friends, and friends would be laughing about this.
She turned around and looked pointedly at the lingerie he was still holding. "You planning on keeping those for yourself? Don't worry, I'm not going to judge you for whatever you're into," she teased.
He held the bra up to his chest. "Do you think it's my color?"
She laughed as she grabbed it from him and took the stack over to her bags. The dresser drawers had been too gross for her to take much else out, so she was ready to go as soon as she zipped her lingerie into one of her bags. Of course, Ryan took her bags from her, then held the door open for her, always the perfect gentleman.
Was it bad that, instead of appreciating that fact, she momentarily found herself wishing he'd act like a caveman instead?