by Bella Andre
I need your help. Come quick.
Ryan had cursed every one of the thirty-five miles into the city from his mother’s house on the Peninsula. He’d texted Vicki again and again to get more information, and to make sure that she was okay, but she hadn’t replied.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so worried about anyone...or so ready to do battle. Vicki wasn’t the kind of woman who cried wolf. She wouldn’t have sent him those texts just to try to get his attention. She was the only woman he’d ever known apart from his sisters and mother who had ever been completely real with him, and who didn’t want anything from him besides his friendship.
His large hands were tight fists as he surveyed the cocktail lounge, his jaw clenched tight.
Damn it, where was she?
If anyone had touched Vicki the wrong way, or hurt her even the slightest bit, Ryan would make them pay.
He was famous for being not only the winningest pitcher in the National Baseball League, but also one of the most laid-back. Very few people had a clue about Ryan’s hidden edges, but it wouldn’t take much more to set him off tonight.
He grabbed the first person in uniform, his grip hard enough on the young man’s upper arm that he winced. “Is there a private meeting room?”
The young man stuttered, “Y-yes, sir.”
“Where is it?”
His hand shook as he pointed. “On the back side of the bar, but it’s already reserved toni—”
Ryan hightailed it through the lounge and it shouldn’t have been that hard to get through the crowd, but it seemed that every single person in the room either got up to buy another drink or was trying to get his attention.
When he found a subtly hidden door just to the side of the bar, he nearly knocked it off its hinges in his hurry to open it.
Ryan saw the flash of Vicki’s long blond hair first, her killer curves second.
Thank God, she was here, and in one piece.
But his relief was short-lived when he realized he’d interrupted her and her cocktail companion just as the man’s hand was sliding onto her thigh.
Vicki jumped off her seat as Ryan strode into the room. The terror that had been on her face when the other man touched her leg slowly morphed into relief at his arrival.
Her companion, on the other hand, was clearly surprised to see Ryan...and he wasn’t happy about it, either. The man was probably in his fifties and was obviously loaded. Or at least wanted people to think he was, holding meetings in a place like this, wearing a handmade suit.
Quickly conjuring up an expression of surprise, Vicki said, “What are you doing here so early, honey?”
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 hips 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 t
o 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 naïvely 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 easil
y 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.”
