Vicky smiled as both women left, then looked down at the bag in her hand, and her smile died.
Tonight she’d see Ryan. It was going to be difficult. He’d seen her naked, after all.
Oh, well, the sooner she got it over and done with, the sooner they’d be able to move on. She might need to find a new job. She hated to think that, but the alternative, watching Ryan return, mission after mission, with a different woman on his arm, would be like a living hell. But then, if she left, she wouldn’t see him at all—and that would be hell, too.
She sighed as she grabbed her handbag and started walking toward the elevators. One step at a time. She’d see how awkward it got tonight. Then she’d figure out how she was going to live without Ryan.
The jerk.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Ryan fumbled with his tie in exasperation. He felt like it was cutting off his air supply. He growled. He only had one hand to work with, and he thought he might be making it worse.
“Here, let me,” Drew said, sighing. “Before you choke yourself with it.”
“Are they all here?” Ryan asked.
Drew nodded. “Yep.”
“What about Vicky? Is Vicky here?”
“Yep.”
“How does she look?”
“Gorgeous.”
“I know she’s gorgeous. Does she still look mad?”
Drew’s lips quirked. “Yep. She mentioned something about shooting you again, if she could.”
Ryan’s eyes narrowed. “You’re lying.” She’d already apologized profusely in the helicopter they’d shared on the way to the hospital.
“Well, stop asking me stupid questions.” Drew stepped back, cocking his head. Eventually he nodded. “You’ll do.” Drew hesitated. “If you hurt her, we’re all going to beat you up, you know that, right?”
Ryan grinned. “I know.” There wasn’t going to be an opportunity. He’d spent a lot of his time thinking about “the situation”. He hated the idea of Vicky moving into the field with every fiber of his being, but if she wanted to do it, he would support her—just like she supported him. And he’d be at home, waiting for her each time. Coming so close to losing her, he’d decided to refocus his energies on building their relationship instead of hiding from it. He figured they could still be friends, but they could be so much more.
The door behind Drew opened and Noah stuck his head in. “Are you girls ready yet?”
Ryan swallowed. He was about as ready as he’d ever be. “I hope this works,” he muttered. He didn’t have butterflies in his stomach. He had breakdancing elephants wreaking havoc in his gut.
Noah shrugged. “Well, look at it this way, if it doesn’t, Drew and I will have something to laugh over for the rest of our lives.” He leaned in close. “Hurt her and I’ll kill you.” He stood back and smiled.
Ryan nodded, not taking any offense. Everyone knew Noah didn’t do subtle.
Reese and Mal came up behind Noah. Ryan sagged in relief. “Oh, thank God you’re here.”
Mal held a box that he’d already opened, and started to hand out something to each of them. Noah looked at his and laughed.
Ryan frowned. “What is it?”
Mal handed him one. It was a cap, with a slogan embroidered across the front. In bright yellow. He read it.
“Oh, funny. Very friggin’ funny.”
Reese grinned as he donned his. “We thought so.”
Ryan looked around the circle of men. He was beginning to understand Vicky’s notion of friendship. He did see these guys as friends, maybe even family, but it had taken Vicky to show him what was right in front of him.
“Thanks for this, guys.”
Drew winced. “Don’t go getting all emotional on us, okay? We have a job to do.”
Ryan nodded. “You’re right. Let’s do it.”
* * *
Vicky stood just inside the entrance. Mal had organized the party at a karaoke club. She loved it. She glanced around. Long tables were set up, with candles set in a line down the center. It gave the club a warm, intimate ambience. Several people mingled in the darkness, and she nodded at a few of the new recruits. Mitch Blake and Cooper Reed were onstage singing a popular boy band song. Vicky frowned. Where are the others? Others being Ryan. Not that she was specifically looking for Ryan, she told herself. She wasn’t hankering for a glimpse of him, even if it was from across a crowded room.
Ri-ight.
She started to wend her way through the tables, smiling politely at those she passed as she made her way to where Maggie and Jessica sat. Jessica saw her coming and waved at her, indicating the seat next to hers. They’d chosen a table close to the front.
“Wow, you look fantastic,” Maggie said, raising her voice above the music.
Vicky smiled her thanks. Jessica had chosen well. The jersey knit dress was modest on the hanger, but it skimmed and caressed every line of her figure with a sinfully flattering drape. The material was a rich pomegranate color that set off the red highlights in her hair, and the side twist emphasized the deep crossover vee of her neckline. It was gorgeous, quite possibly one of the most feminine dresses she’d ever worn. It was a seductive armor, and she was amazed at how confident she felt. There were plenty of guys who had already approached her on the way in, and they’d eyed her with something more than a friendly flirt in their eyes.
Unfortunately, none of them were Ryan.
Travis, one of the MSA recruits, took to the stage and started to belt out a Johnny Cash tune. He was actually pretty good, Vicky realized, and smiled and waved at him. He winked and continued with his number.
“Where is their song list?” Vicky asked loudly.
“Oh, over there on the side of the stage.”
“Have you guys had a look yet?”
Maggie glanced at Jessica. “Yes, Jess and I have already selected one.”
“Oh, okay. Do you want to get up with me, too?”
“Uh, sure.”
Vicky stood up, but Jessica clutched her hand. “Why don’t we sit down for a while? I’m still nervous and need to work up the courage.”
Vicky smiled and sat down again. “Sure. Don’t worry, it’s loads of fun.”
Travis finished his song and bowed to the applause. He raised the mic to his lips. “Okay, everyone, we have a special number coming up next. Please put your hands together for the MSA All-Stars!”
The crowd erupted into cheers, and Vicky started to laugh. “The who?”
Mal walked onto the stage, followed by more MSA staff. Vicky started to laugh and cheer as each of the guys took to the stage. They all wore dark suits, white shirts, black ties and sunglasses, and they all looked smoking-hot gorgeous. Vicky’s cheer faltered when Ryan took center stage, noticeable because of the snowy white sling he wore on one arm. All of the men stood with their backs to the audience and placed a black cap on their heads.
“But he doesn’t do karaoke,” Vicky sputtered, confused. Ryan hated karaoke.
“Shh,” Maggie said, and sat back with a smile on her face.
Vicky watched, her jaw dropping, as Ryan counted them in. All of them started to chant, and Vicky squealed when she recognized the ABBA song as others in the crowd started to clap in time.
Ryan turned around, mic in hand, and started singing while the rest of the team performed a well-rehearsed choreographed number, continuously chanting “take a chance, take a chance.”
Maggie and Jessica cheered as each man did a turn. Vicky stared in amazement. Each man wore a cap emblazoned with Suck It Up, Buttercup. She started to laugh.
The women in the audience went wild as the all the guys except for Ryan slipped out of their jackets. Ryan kept singing, pointing to Vicky as he warbled his way through the rest of the lyrics.
She winced. She now
understood why he didn’t do karaoke. He was bad. Really, really bad.
Then Drew, Noah, Reese and Mal joined in, and they almost drowned out Ryan’s wailing. Almost. Vicky didn’t care. Her man was up there, singing his heart out. She knew this song. He pointed to her, then brought his finger back to his chest.
“Take a chance on me,” he sang with a flourish as he bounded off the stage and danced his way over to her table. Women clapped in time as he slinked his way across like some sort of sexy stripper, his hips moving in a hypnotic routine that had her crossing her legs. The rest of the MSA team stayed on stage, getting into the groove of the song as they sang backup.
He might not be able to hold a note, she reflected, but he sure had the moves. He looked like sex on steroids, with his dark glasses, cap, suit and sexy sway to his hips. She sighed as he arrived at her table and the crowd erupted as he dropped down on one knee and dug a little box out of his pants pocket.
Vicky’s eyes widened and she gasped as he removed his sunglasses, his gray eyes earnest.
“Vic, you’re my best friend, but above all, you’re the love of my life. Take a chance on me. Marry me?” He opened the ring box and presented it to her.
Vicky felt the blood drain from her face as she stared at him, incredulously. “No way!” She couldn’t believe this. Was he really asking her to marry him—and not as a friend? This couldn’t be happening. She had to be dreaming. “No way,” she shook her head in disbelief. She looked at the ring nestled in black silk. It twinkled under the lights, an emerald surrounded by band of smaller diamonds. It was lovely. Beautiful, subtle, classy. Just what she would have picked.
“Say yes,” he said.
“Are you crazy?”
“Maybe. I jumped off a bridge for you, Vic. I ran into a burning building for you—I even took a bullet for you. Your bullet. Say yes.”
“I can’t believe this,” she gasped. “You kept saying we were just friends.”
“We’re so much more than friends, and we both know it,” he whispered. “Say yes.”
“But—what about the complications? This will change everything.”
“It will be different,” he admitted, then smiled, “It’ll be better. Say yes.”
“For real?”
He nodded. “For real, now say yes, damn it!”
Vicky smiled. “Yes! Yes, damn you, yes!” He slid the ring on her finger. It was a little loose, but she didn’t care. She squealed as his good arm wrapped around her waist and he lifted her from her seat. The crowd was deafening as they roared their approval, and tears of happiness rolled down her cheeks as she peppered his face with kisses.
“I love you, you big jerk.”
“I love you, too, Buttercup.” He took her lips in a kiss that had the crowd cheering even louder, and she laughed against his lips.
“Just promise me one thing,” she whispered to him, smiling.
He cocked an eyebrow. “What?”
“Please don’t sing. Ever.”
Ryan laughed. “Gladly.”
Epilogue
“C’mon, Ryan, it’s time we introduced you to the man cave,” Adam Hastings said from the kitchen doorway.
Ryan looked up. He was “helping” Vicky and her two nephews, Kai and Kyran, bake Christmas cinnamon cookies in the Hastings family kitchen.
“Go on, I’ve got this,” Vicky told him, as Kai threw a handful of flour at his younger brother while his aunt’s back was turned.
Ryan glanced warily after Vicky’s dad as he left the room. So far her father had invited him to join them in a friendly game of football in the snow out back. That had ended up with Vicky’s two older brothers, her old man and her nephews piling on top of him in an impromptu wrestling match. Vicky, too.
Adam Hastings had also insisted he give Ryan a tour of the area, and he had unwittingly joined Vicky’s brothers, Scott and Jason, in the car. He was peppered with bruises from the almost violent session of Spotto that had ensued.
Now her dad wanted him to join him in the man cave? He had no idea what that was, but Ryan wished he had his gun as he trudged across the snow-covered backyard to the boatshed behind the older man. Adam Hastings was in his sixties and still a good-looking man, but apparently retirement wasn’t on his radar. Over the last few days Ryan had learned that the Hastings family worked hard—and they played hard. The senior Hastings had a well-equipped office in his home, and would disappear to do brief spurts of work or make calls, managing his global business remotely.
Ryan had to admit, for a wealthy family, the Hastings were very humble, and very modest. The home was beautiful, but not a showcase. It was warm and friendly and welcoming. Marks had been etched on the kitchen door over the years to show the varying heights of the growing siblings. One of the glass doors to the dining room was mismatched, apparently after Jason had kicked a soccer ball through it, and then had had to work off the repairs with the local glazier. There were little touches everywhere that showed the house was a home. Photos, knickknacks, an ashtray Vicky had made as a child for her non-smoking father. The well-worn patina on the wooden bannister from an eternity of folks sliding down it. He’d caught Vicky doing just that earlier in the day. Inside, the Hastings home was warm, pleasant, inviting.
He scuffed his toe on a mound of snow as he came up to the boatshed door. Outside, though...could be lethal.
“Come on in, Ryan.” Adam stood inside, with a tool in his hand that looked like an old-fashioned iron. Adam and Jason were already inside, picking up tools from the bench that ran the length of the shed.
Great. Now they have weapons.
Ryan ducked his head and entered the shed. Soft light from a bare bulb in the ceiling illuminated what looked like the wooden skeleton of a whale, half-formed and splayed on its back.
“What do you know about boats?” Adam asked as he gestured to the framework.
Ryan’s eyebrows shot up. This is a boat? “Not much,” he admitted, coming closer to touch the wood. It had been carved and shaped, and he ran his fingers along the grain. The wood was a beautiful rose color, soft and glowing in the light.
Jason fiddled with a transistor radio on the bench until a steady rock beat filled the shed.
“Put it back on what it was,” Adam called out.
“C’mon, Dad, let’s get some music from this century happening,” Scott protested.
“My radio, my music.”
Jason rolled his eyes but turned the knob on the radio until swing music filled the enclosed space. “I can hear your grave calling you, Pops.”
“You love it. Now, let’s show Ryan what we do here in the man cave,” Adam told his sons, rubbing his hands together. Scott crossed to a little bar fridge nestled under the bench at one end, and pulled out four bottles of chilled beer and passed them round.
“You drink?” Ryan asked as he uncapped his bottle and took a swig.
“And build boats.” Jason sat down on a bench and lifted his bottle to his lips, eyeing Ryan. Vicky’s eldest brother had recently been honorably discharged from the service, and had told Ryan he was taking a break before looking for a job. A damn SEAL, of all things. A good one, too, if the wrestle yesterday in the snow had been any indication. Of course, Reese was already interested in that fact, as he’d told Ryan before he left. Ryan suspected Jason would be receiving a job offer in the New Year.
“Among other things,” Scott said, then leaned down to pick up a hammer.
“Yeah, well, let’s not waste our time chatting let’s get to work. Come on, Ryan, I’ll show you what to do.” Adam Hastings beckoned him over and showed him how to use the wood plane on the timber.
Scott started hammering, and Jason used pencil and ruler to measure out lengths of timber in preparation for cutting.
“What’s this boat for?” Ryan asked, more to make conversat
ion than for any other reason. The Hastings’ property backed on to Lake Michigan, and Ryan had already seen the Hastings’ boat. The guy didn’t really need another one, did he?
“It’s a wedding present,” Adam said nonchalantly, picking up a chisel. Ryan nodded, then realized the two brothers were eyeing him. Ryan glanced at the wooden frame, then at the men around him.
“For who?” he asked slowly, not quite knowing what to think.
“For you, dumbass.” This came from Jason.
“Swear jar,” Adam said, and Jason dug into his pocket and flipped a coin into a jar on the bench. The jar was two-thirds full.
Scott’s eyebrows rose. “Wow. You can tell Jason’s home, eh?”
Ryan blinked. The boat was for him? “For me?”
Adam nodded, then gestured to the wood, and Ryan resumed shaping the wood with the smooth glide and slide motion Adam had shown him.
“Sure,” the older man said. “All of my kids get a boat for their wedding present.” He stared meaningfully at Jason. “When they finally get around to it.” Jason ignored him.
Ryan nodded. Oh, so this was for Vicky. Nice. He kind of liked the idea of working on something like this for her.
“Of course, that means you’re going to have to come around for Sunday dinner each week,” Adam said as he used the chisel to separate two blocks of wood Scott had just nailed together. “This one goes over there, son.”
“Oh.” Scott grimaced.
“Sunday dinner?” Ryan stopped again. He knew Vicky visited as often as she could, it was a family institution. He just hadn’t really thought about how it would affect him.
“Well, yeah, when you’re not off doing whatever the hell it is you do,” Adam responded. He gestured to the wood, and Ryan started up his movements again.
“Oh, okay.”
“Well, how else do you think your boat’s going to get built?” Jason asked.
“My boat?”
Scott laughed. “Well, yeah. Vicky doesn’t mind the water, but she’s no sailor. This one’s for you, chump.”
Ryan stopped, surprised. They were making a boat. For him. Spending time and effort, creating something beautiful, when they hardly knew him.
For Her Eyes Only (McCormack Security Agency) Page 32