by Bella Andre
It was one of the best sunsets he'd ever seen, but Ryan couldn’t tear his eyes away from Vicki. He stroked his thumb across her palm and she shivered.
Too soon, she slid her hand out of his.
“My hands and feet are numb already,” was her excuse as she moved away from him to head for dry land.
He’d dropped the towel onto the sand when they’d arrived, and after she sat down on it, he sat behind her so that she could lean into his legs the way they had so many times before as teenagers, sitting out and watching the stars blink over the wetlands.
It had killed him to keep things platonic back then, but even though he was supposed to have more control as an adult than as a horny teenager, it was just the opposite.
“This is exactly what I needed.” She turned her face to smile at him and he was a breath away from kissing her when she said, “Thank you for still being the one friend I can totally relax with.”
It didn’t take a genius to hear what she was telling him, loud and clear: I need you to be my friend, Ryan. Nothing else.
So despite how badly he wanted her, Ryan knew he would never forgive himself for being like all the other guys who had wanted something from her...and had taken it from her without thinking about anything but their own needs and desires.
She yawned and leaned back into him. “You know, I’ve never been much of a sleeper, but the last few nights were really bad with all those cockroaches at the motel waiting for me to fall asleep so that they could come out to feast on me.”
Her words had grown fuzzier and fuzzier as she spoke and he wasn’t surprised when, a few minutes later, she fell asleep in his arms. It was hugely tempting to stay like that with her, to listen to her soft breathing, to memorize the feel of her beautiful curves against him...and to pretend that she was more than a friend.
Biting back a curse, Ryan easily lifted her up to carry her to the guest bedroom. Her legs were soft and smooth against his arm where her dress hiked up, and the feel of her breasts against his chest, her hips against his groin, made it difficult for him to think clearly.
Somehow he made it up the two flights of stairs without giving in to the urge to kiss her gorgeous lips, but he barely bit back a needy groan when she turned her face into his neck and he felt her warm breath against him.
He was breathing hard by the time he made it to the guest bedroom. Not because of her weight—he had a good foot in height on her—but because of the fight to control his arousal.
At last, he laid her down on the bed, her beautiful hair falling across the pillows as she immediately moved to curl up on her side.
Knowing he was going to spend the rest of the night wishing he could be there wrapped around her, Ryan barely trusted himself to stay in the bedroom with her for another minute, let alone touch her again to get her under the sheets so she wouldn’t wake up cold.
But even as he was pulling back the covers and getting ready to slide her beneath them, he knew she wouldn’t be comfortable sleeping in her form-fitting dress. It was going to have to come off...which meant he was going to have to stop being a jackass and remember how to be her friend.
One who just happened to want her like crazy.
Ryan was famous for his steady hands, and for the fact that nothing riled him. But tonight, just the thought of undressing Vicki had his hands shaking like a blade of grass in the breeze.
He thanked God that her zipper was on the side of the dress so he could reach it without having to touch her too much. As he slowly pulled it down, he was torn between wanting her to wake up and praying she’d stay asleep.
What would she think if she found him undressing her in the dark bedroom without her consent? Would she slap him and throw him out?
Or would she tell him to finish the job by taking off her underwear, too, and then invite him to press kisses to the skin he’d just uncovered?
By then the zipper was down, but he wasn’t doing his control any favors by letting his mind wander into fantasyland when he still had the dress to slide off her incredible curves.
You can do this, Sullivan.
He’d learned early on, when the game stakes were high and it came down to him on the pitcher’s mound, how to shut down everything but the one thing he needed to focus on: making enough good pitches to strike the batter out.
Tonight, that focus was entirely on getting out of the guest bedroom without kissing Vicki. Or stroking his hand over the curve of her breast. Or waking her up and begging her to let him make love to her.
Her dress was made of smooth fabric and it didn’t take more than a couple of slow tugs on the hem to get it to slide off. His jaw dropped at the sight of her in a strapless bra and lace panties, both of them red. The bold color looked like fire licking across her pale skin.
He knew it was wrong to stare at her like this, while she was asleep and he was all but drooling. Knowing he still needed to get her under the covers, Ryan tried to get a grip, and swore he almost had it when she stirred slightly, just enough that he was utterly mesmerized by the way her breasts moved beneath her bra.
Hard past the point of comfort—way past—he gave himself sixty seconds to get her under the covers and himself out of the room.
Steeling himself for the touch of her soft skin beneath his hands, he gently lifted her from the bed again before putting her back down on the sheet. And as long as he blocked out every ounce of sensation, if he didn’t make the mistake of smelling her hair, or getting too close to her luscious mouth, he might be able to get out of the bedroom in one piece.
He had almost pulled his arms from her when she suddenly said his name in her sleep, pressed her lips to his neck, and tightened her hold on him as if she didn’t want to him to leave.
Ryan went completely still, everywhere—apart from his erection, which was throbbing painfully against the zipper of his jeans. His hands started moving with a mind of their own down her back, over her hips. When she moved closer to him instead of farther away, he almost gave in to the need that hadn’t just been eating at him from that first moment he’d seen her with James at the Pacific Union Club.
It had been eating at him since he was fifteen years old.
Ryan didn’t just want Vicki anymore. He needed her. With a desperation he’d never felt before for anything or anyone but her.
Black and white turned into a dirty shade of gray as the urge grew bigger, stronger, and he teetered between right and wrong. And in the end, it took every ounce of self-control he possessed to gently lay Vicki back against the pillows and cover her with the sheets.
She trusted him, enough that she’d actually fallen asleep in his arms down on the beach. He’d never forgive himself if he selfishly took advantage of her sleepy vulnerability.
Especially when she’d just made it perfectly clear to him at dinner, and then again on the beach, that she needed him to be her friend.
And only her friend.
* * *
After leaving her alone and soft and perfect on the bed, instead of going to his bedroom where he knew he wouldn’t sleep worth a damn with Vicki only a wall away, he headed for his home office and picked up the phone.
“Hey, Rafe, it’s Ryan.”
His cousin worked as a private detective in Seattle. Ryan always made sure Rafe had killer tickets when they played in the northwest.
“Need some pointers for the game tomorrow?” his cousin joked.
“Not tonight,” Ryan replied.
Realizing he wasn’t calling to shoot the breeze, Rafe said, “What’s wrong? Is everyone in SF okay? Your mom doing all right?”
“They’re all good. Great, actually. I’m calling for a friend of mine. I need you to dig up the dirt on one of her colleagues.”
“Sure thing. What’s the name?”
Ryan spelled it for him.
“I’ll hand over any info as soon I get it,” Rafe promised him.
A female voice sounded in the background and Ryan said, “Thanks for your help. You can hang up an
d roll back on top of her now.” The phone went dead immediately, his cousin obviously eager to do just that.
Ryan pulled out some new endorsement contracts that could have waited. A few hours later, when he couldn’t put off going to bed any longer, the situation was just as he’d figured it would be. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Vicki in her sexy red lace panties and strapless bra, reaching for him and pressing her lips against his.
At five a.m., he finally gave up and went to take a cold shower. One that wasn’t even close to cold enough.
Chapter Five
Vicki would have happily remained under the softest sheets she’d ever slept in, had it not been for the incredible smell of bacon and eggs coming from the kitchen.
How long had she been asleep? She couldn’t remember heading to bed...or, she thought as she looked across the room and saw her dress draped carefully over the arm of a chair, taking off her dress for that matter.
Oh God, she thought as she felt her face heat up, had Ryan undressed her last night? She had a vague memory of being in his arms, with her arms around his neck, and his skin warm beneath her lips.
She gasped aloud at the horrifying thought that she might have thrown herself at him, her gasp turning to a moan at the even more horrifying realization that if she had, the solo state of her bed and the intact state of her underwear meant he certainly hadn’t taken her up on it.
Her heart was pounding hard as she stripped off her underwear and got into the shower. The water pressure from the multiple expensive showerheads running down the wall from her head to her calves was heavenly, but she could hardly enjoy it while worrying about what she had—or hadn’t—done to Ryan last night.
She knew he’d be a total gentleman about her throwing herself at him...but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t forever be hugely mortified about it.
Not able to stand not knowing what had happened for another second, she quickly dried off, slicked her hair back into a ponytail that she’d pay for later when the top of her hair was flat and the bottom looked like a bunny’s tail, and threw on a pair of fatigue-print capris and an army-green tank top. Her heart thudded as she made her way down the hall to the stairs.
At the stove, Ryan’s back was to her, but as soon as he heard her footsteps, he turned and said, “Perfect timing. Breakfast is almost up.”
She carefully studied his expression for any awkwardness, but he looked just as easygoing as always. Relief flooded her at the desperate hope that she hadn’t made a complete idiot of herself last night.
Still, the near miss was a very good warning to remember to keep her guard up around Ryan. The last thing she wanted to do was make him uncomfortable in any way. Especially after he’d rushed to her rescue last night and was now letting her crash at his oceanfront mansion.
“Was the bed okay?”
He handed her a plate full of bacon and eggs and toast, and her stomach grumbled in appreciation. “Between the bed and the shower and now breakfast, I’m not sure you’ll ever figure out a way to get me to leave.”
She’d meant it as a joke, but he didn’t so much as smile at her. “Sounds good to me.”
Her skin tingled under the intensity of his gaze and she sternly told herself to snap out of constantly fantasizing that there was something more behind his words than there actually was. Still, she needed to make absolutely certain that she hadn’t crossed the line last night.
“I feel really bad about falling asleep on you last night. You know what a lightweight I am, especially after a few sleepless nights at Roach Central Station.”
He sat down at the breakfast bar beside her and poured them both coffee. It smelled like heaven, but she was still too churned up over being this close to him to do more than cup the mug in her hands.
“My ego will get over it eventually,” he joked, but a moment later she was surprised to see her easygoing friend look a little bit nervous. “I didn’t think you’d be comfortable sleeping in your dress, obviously.”
Now it was her turn to joke, “Just as long as you kept your eyes closed.”
The lacy undergarments were her big post-divorce splurge, a last-ditch effort to try to feel the slightest bit sexy again. Now, even though they weren’t exactly practical, she wore them as often as she could simply because they’d been so expensive and she was hell bent on getting her money’s worth out of them.
She couldn’t help wondering if he’d liked what he saw, even though she knew tall, brunette, size-four supermodels were his type rather than small, blonde, curvy girls like her.
He held his hands up as if to admit that he had, in fact, taken a peek or two. “Sorry about that. Forgive me?”
If he had been anyone else and she hadn’t been horribly, excruciatingly attracted to him—say, if he were gay—she would be rolling with this no problem.
Yes, that was what she’d do.
She’d pretend he was gay.
Or that she was.
Actually, it would probably be safer just to pretend both of them were completely, utterly into their own team.
Forcing herself to shrug, she teased, “Just so you know, the next time I fall asleep on you, I sleep best with nothing on at all.”
Ryan choked on the bite of eggs he’d just taken and she silently cursed herself for saying exactly the wrong thing to diffuse the situation.
“So,” she said a little too brightly, “what’s on your agenda today? Practice? Or a game?” She crammed a huge handful of bacon into her mouth to make herself shut up.
Ryan drank some coffee to wash down the rest of the eggs before saying, “There’s an afternoon game.”
“Are you pitching?”
“Tomorrow night. Any chance you can make it?”
“I can’t today, but hopefully tomorrow.” She’d never been a baseball fan until she’d seen him play in high school from her spot in the shadows of the big oak tree some distance back from the field and stands. “The board will be coming by this afternoon to check in on all of this year’s fellowship contenders.”
Ryan’s expression tightened. “Is James going to be there?” When she nodded, he said, “Make sure you don’t end up alone with him, Vicki.”
“Don’t worry,” she said, “I’m not going to be that stupid ever again.”
“He tricked you.”
“Maybe, but I should have known better, enough to at least trust my instincts about him when he gave me the creeps at the studio. In any case, between his thinking you and I are an item and all the people that will be at the studio this afternoon, I can’t imagine he’d try anything.”
“He’d better not.” Her friend’s expression was fierce. “You mean too much to me. Why don’t you give me the address of the studio, just in case.”
He’d just typed it into his phone when it rang.
“It’s my cousin. Sorry, I need to take this.” He put the phone to his ear. “Rafe, hold on a sec.”
He rattled around in a kitchen drawer and pulled out a set of car keys. “I wish I could take you back and forth from the studio, but now that I’ve moved you way out to the edge of the city, why don’t you use one of my cars so you’re not stuck on my schedule?”
She knew he was right, that it didn’t make sense for her to try to get from Sea Cliff to the Mission on the bus. But as she took the keys, she felt more and more like she was taking advantage of him. Not only was he playing her fake boyfriend, but he’d also given her an oceanfront mansion to live in and now she held the keys to one of the shiny cars in his garage.
Ryan gave her an absentminded kiss on her cheek before he walked away, but she could tell he’d all but forgotten her as he walked off to talk with his cousin.
Vicki took their plates over to the sink, then washed and dried them while trying to enjoy the view of the morning sun over the ocean despite feeling like a complete interloper.
As she watched the gold and green and blue water merge, then break against the shore, a buzzing began just beneath her skin.
&nb
sp; It was that feeling she got when inspiration hit. Big-time inspiration.
She rushed back up to the bedroom to put on some flip-flops and grab her bag. Even the luxurious interior of the Porsche convertible Ryan had given her to drive barely registered as she raced against traffic toward the parking garage nearest to the studio.
She’d waited so long to feel this rush of inspiration again that she could literally feel the energy about to burst from her fingers.
Vicki practically ran from the parking garage to the building the fellowship committee had opened up to the candidates. Making a beeline for her small studio, she flicked on the light switch, dropped her bag to the ground, and grabbed a new container of Plasticine modeling clay. Later, if she nailed a small-scale model, she’d make it full size with oil-based clay.
It was so easy to overthink this feeling, to stop and drill down to see where it had come from, to want to know not only where exactly it had come from, but also where it was going. Fortunately, after years of experience, Vicki knew better than to make the mistake of doing any of those things.
All she needed to do today was go with it, let the clay talk to her through her fingers...and pray that it all made sense when she resurfaced.
It was, she suddenly realized, like trusting the ocean tide to take her out with it before bringing her back in again, refreshed and renewed.
Slipping on her headphones and putting a recording of the ocean on repeat, she placed her hands on the clay and closed her eyes. Following her instincts, she let herself shape and carve, enjoying the sweet pleasure of the emotion flowing from the center of her chest, then down her arms and out of her fingers.
The rhythm of water in her ears matched her heartbeat as she worked steadily, lost to time, to thirst or hunger, to anything but the pure, sweet joy of creation.
* * *
Ryan slipped his phone back into his pocket and stared out over the ocean as he thought about what Rafe had told him.
James Sedgwick had come up clean. A little too clean, according to his cousin. Ryan was fully confident that if there was anything to find on the guy, Rafe would find it. Unfortunately, it looked like he was going to have to wait for his cousin to dig deeper.