by Bella Andre
“Two halves of a whole.”
“Exactly.” She smiled up at him. “Which is why I want you, Ryan.”
“You have me. Forever. And you deserve Italy, too.”
“I know I do.”
He was transfixed by the look in her eyes that told him she finally understood—and owned—the depths of her own talent.
“All my adult life I’ve been striving for the big career, for the recognition. My ex fed right into this, both during our marriage, when success always seemed just out of reach, and then after our divorce, when I wanted to win just for the pleasure of spiting him and showing him how wrong he was about me. The call from Italy should have been the greatest moment of my life. But while it felt great to be wanted and respected, I’m finally listening to that little voice inside of me.”
She paused and pressed her hand flat to his chest, right over his breastbone. “Every other word that voice says is your name, Ryan. The truth—my truth—is that Italy isn’t a step up if it’s also a step away from you and the future we’re building together.”
“But will you be happy taking the San Francisco fellowship when you could have had Italy?”
“Actually, ” she informed him with a lift of one eyebrow, “I can pretty much guarantee that I won’t be getting that fellowship.”
“Screw James and Anthony. Your project is brilliant. The other board members will make sure you get it.”
She made a face. “James came to my studio today. He had another charming offer for me.”
“That’s it!” Ryan exploded. “I’m going to k—”
“You don’t need to do anything to him. I already did.”
She told him everything, every word, every nuance of her showdown with James. And then she told him about the phone calls she’d made to the other members of the fellowship board to tell them about what James had done, and likely to more women than her.
“Today when I was putting the finishing touches on my project, I remembered something I knew a long, long time ago, but forgot somewhere along the way. From the first moment I picked up that ball of clay in Mr. Barnsworth’s art class, I loved the way it took shape beneath my fingers. As long as I have that, I’ll always be happy, whether I’m making sculptures of poodles out in the garage or trying to sculpt water in some fancy art studio with my name out front in big, bold letters.” Her smile was radiant. “Everything I ever wanted, everything I was ever looking for, was there the whole time. It was inside of me.” He could feel his heart beating through to her palm as she said, “And you.”
* * *
“I know you wanted to go slow,” Ryan began, but even as he was saying the words, he’d reached around the back of her neck to undo her necklace and was already getting down on one knee.
Not both.
One.
Vicki opened her mouth, but no sound came out, even though his name was right there on her lips.
“I know it’s only been a week since you came back to California. I know we’ve only had two official dates. Well, one, actually, since I mostly just ripped your clothes off and took you in your studio the other night, so it might not count as an actual date. And I also know we’re in the middle of a dirty stairwell in a St. Louis hotel right now.”
Finally, laughter bubbled from Vicki’s lips.
Because even when Ryan was down on one knee, he was still her friend.
Her best friend.
And he still made her laugh...all while making her burn hotter than she’d known her inner thermostat could go.
“I’ve already lost fifteen years without you. I’m not going to waste another second. You’re everything I’ve been looking for. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.” Ryan looked at their linked hands, her sculpture come to life. “That night we held hands in the water outside my house, I felt the same thing you did, Vicki. That nothing, not even water strong enough to carve cliffs, is as strong as our connection. Nothing is ever going to break us apart. Not jobs or miles or creepy bastards. Make me the happiest man alive. Say you’ll marry me and wear this ring.” His mouth curved up into another beautiful grin that took what was left of her breath away. “Let me be the one for real this time.”
One more time, her whole world came down to her hands, to the deliberate way she held out her left ring finger for Ryan, to the cool slide of platinum across the heated surface of skin, and then to the scruff of his jaw against her palms as she held his face and kissed him.
“You’ve always been the one, Ryan. You always will be.”
A heartbeat later, he’d scooped her up into his arms and was practically jogging up the steps.
She was laughing even as she asked, “What floor is your room on?”
“The tenth.”
She only laughed harder at the thought of his trying to run ten floors with her in his arms, but she knew better than to try to stop him when he was hands-down the most determined man she’d ever known.
Of course, she wasn’t surprised when he made carrying her up ten flights of stairs look so easy. He was barely even winded as he pushed open the door to his room.
What did surprise her, however, was when he put her down on the bed, told her to stay put in that deliciously dominant voice of his, and went back into the front room to make a phone call. Wondering what he was up to, her heart pounding in anticipation, a few minutes later she heard a knock on the door and Ryan saying thank you to someone in his low voice.
His gaze was full of wicked intent when he came into the bedroom, his hands held behind his back. “Remember what I wanted to do to you our first night together?”
Even though it had barely been a week since they’d first made love, that night had been such a blur of pleasure and sensation that all she could think to answer was, “Everything?”
She loved the purely carnal sound of his laughter.
“You always have been able to read my mind,” he teased her. “Now take your clothes off and I’ll show you.”
He sat back on the couch against the opposite wall, still hiding whatever was in his hands from her.
Even after making love several times that week, she was amazed to realize there were still so many firsts for them, like stripping down for Ryan. She’d done it over the phone the night before, but never in person. He’d always ripped the clothes off her before she could do a thing to help.
Inherently shy, it was tempting just to quickly shove off the tank top and leggings she’d worn from the studio to the plane and beg him to join her on the bed. But that wouldn’t be fair to either of them.
Slowly, she got up off the bed and walked across the room to stand in front of him. With every step, Ryan’s gaze heated up more and more. Her nerves gave way to a rush of joy.
He was hers.
And she was his.
Keeping her gaze locked with his, she reached for the hem of her tank top and slid it up over her waist, then her breasts, one slow inch at a time. By the time she pulled her shirt up over her head, and uncovered black lace, air was whooshing out of Ryan’s lungs.
“Gorgeous, Vicki. You’re so damn gorgeous.”
She was smiling by the time she threw her shirt to the side. “Wait,” she teased, “there’s more.”
Her thumbs went into the waistband of her leggings a moment later so that she could slide them down over her hips to reveal the matching lace thong. Just as her leggings fell to the floor and she stepped out of them, he wrapped two big hands around her bared bottom cheeks and pulled her into him so that he could press kisses against her stomach, her hip bones, and then the sheer fabric covering her sex.
Her breath was coming fast now, faster still when he slid two fingers beneath her panties and into her. A heartbeat later, she was lying on the couch and he was lowering his deliciously heavy weight to her so that they could kiss and grind against each other.
Maybe it was because they had first fallen for each other as teenagers, but she loved the way they always got down and dirty on the couch like two horn
y kids who couldn’t get enough of each other even when a bed was just feet away.
He levered himself up from her just enough to remove her bra and panties, but once she was naked, instead of coming back into her arms, he simply stared.
“I can hardly believe you’re mine.” His whispered words were filled with awe. Pure, never-ending desire.
And so much love it filled her to overflowing.
“Always,” she whispered back. “Forever.”
She was reaching to pull him in for more kisses, when her elbow smacked into something hard. And cold. And wet.
“Sorry about that,” he said as he lifted her elbow up to press a kiss to it. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” He pulled a champagne bottle out of its hiding place. “Surprise.”
She tried to smile back at him, but it was hard to pull it off when all she could think about was what he was planning on doing with the champagne. She watched with heady anticipation as his deft fingers worked the cork. It popped open and champagne sprayed all over her breasts, making her laugh in surprise as the cold, fizzing droplets covered her.
“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”
A flash of his wicked grin was the only answer she got before he lowered his mouth to her sensitive flesh and licked off every last drop. When he found a particularly sensitive spot, and then another, she threaded her hands into his hair to hold him against her.
Finally, he lifted his head to stare down at her with his dark, intense eyes.
“I think we’re ready to start now.”
He hadn’t even started yet?
Oh God...she was never going to make it out of this hotel room in one piece.
And that was just fine by her.
* * *
Ryan wanted to savor every single second with Vicki. It meant everything to him that she trusted him to love her the way she deserved to be loved.
Gently, he ran one finger down between her breasts to her belly button. “Do you know what they call this part of a woman?”
She shook her head, her eyes wide and filled with heat.
“The champagne line.”
A soft whimper left her pretty lips and he had to press a kiss to them. She licked the bubbly from his tongue and he was tempted just to take her right then and there and forget about the full bottle of champagne. But he’d have a lifetime to take her hard and fast.
Tonight, he wanted to cherish. To treasure.
To love.
He lifted her arms above her head one at a time and curled her fingers around the arm of the couch. Her back arched just enough to make the slight indentation on her torso slightly more pronounced.
He stared down at her, the woman he’d waited half a lifetime to finally make his own.
“Perfect.”
With a quick lick over the tip of each breast, he finally tilted the bottle over her. Champagne pooled between her breasts for a split second before beginning the slow, sweet slide down toward her belly button.
His groan sounded in the room a beat before he leaned down to lick his way up over the sweet, fizzly liquid, from her waist to her breastbone. One by one, Vicki’s fingers slipped from the couch until her hands were in his hair again and she was arching into his mouth.
A moment later, Ryan lifted her up off the couch. He’d given slow his best shot.
But he was known for speed, after all.
He carried her over to the bed and left her arms just long enough to put on protection. And then he was sliding deep and she was gasping out his name. He stilled and stared into her eyes.
“That first day we met, when I was lying over you on the grass, I knew you were the one.”
Vicki smiled up at him, even more beautiful now than she’d been all those years ago when they’d lain together on the high school lawn.
“I did, too.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
Four nights later, Vicki and Ryan walked into the San Francisco Modern Art Museum hand in hand for the fellowship awards ceremony.
“He’s here.” Ryan’s low voice vibrated with anger.
He wasn’t just her best friend and fiancé, he was a Sullivan. He would always want to protect—and avenge—her, especially when it came to her first husband.
She squeezed his hand as Anthony made his way across the room straight toward them. “I’m glad he’s here.” And it was true. She actually appreciated this opportunity to see her ex again. It was her chance to finally put him where he belonged.
In the past.
But before her ex-husband could get to her, a beautiful woman approached her. “Are you Vicki Bennett?”
Vicki had never met the woman before, but she recognized her nonetheless. It was the woman in the picture with James. The one who had sold her soul to a sadistic devil for a million-dollar prize.
“Yes, I’m Vicki.”
“I’m Kris. I worked with—” The woman faltered, paused, regrouped. “—with James. I was last year’s sculpture winner. I just heard the fantastic news that he’s been kicked off the fellowship board. Off all of them, actually, including the board of this museum.” Before Vicki could respond, the woman said, “I don’t normally do things like this,” and then strong sculptor arms were coming around her in an unexpected hug. “Thank you for doing what I didn’t have the strength to do.”
Vicki had spent plenty of time on the phone with several of the board members during the past few days while she’d been in St. Louis watching Ryan’s first round of playoff games. Again and again she’d gone over what had happened with James, but it wasn’t until Anne called her with the good news about James’s dismissal as she and Ryan were getting on a plane to come home that she knew for sure that they believed her.
The woman’s eyes shone with unshed tears as she took a step back. “I never should have said yes to his offer to 'help' me. Everything I have now feels like it’s been tainted with ugliness. I’m going to leave, go somewhere new, start over where people don’t know about the mistakes I’ve made.”
Vicki had been mulling over the Italian residency for the past few days, but any way she looked at it—and despite Ryan’s obvious willingness to chuck it all in for her—she couldn’t quite picture herself in Europe again. Suddenly, she knew exactly what she was going to tell the museum curator.
“I’ve recently heard that there is a year-long residency opportunity in Italy for a sculptor. Does that sound like something you might be interested in?”
The woman’s eyes grew big. “Are you kidding? I’d jump on a plane to Italy in a heartbeat. There isn’t one single thing tying me to San Francisco.”
Whereas, everything in the world that mattered to Vicki was right here.
As they exchanged contact information and Vicki promised to make the call to the museum as soon as the awards ceremony was over, she finally realized she hadn’t introduced the woman to Ryan.
“Kris, this is my fiancé, Ryan Sullivan.”
She was the first woman Vicki had ever met that didn’t look like she wanted to eat him up as she said hello. It made Vicki like her even more.
After she walked away, Vicki said, “I really hope I can help make the residency work out for her.”
Ryan pulled her closer. “You’re amazing.”
“She needs Italy. I don’t.”
He was bending down to kiss her when they realized Anthony was standing right in front of them.
“Looks like I finally get to meet my replacement.”
There was a wide smile on her ex-husband’s face as he held out his hand for Ryan to shake, one Vicki recognized as false. Anthony’s sculptor’s hands had drawn her in from the start, but now, as she watched the two men’s hands come together, she was struck by how small and pale Anthony's were.
He leaned in to give her a kiss on each cheek, as if to indicate that there were no hard feelings. It was surprisingly easy to let him play the benevolent ex-husband when he meant so little to her now.
Especially when she knew he’d never
have the power to hurt her again.
“No,” she told her ex in a perfectly pleasant voice, “Ryan isn’t your replacement. You were right when you said I’d never find anyone like you, Anthony.”
With that, she turned her full attention to the man she loved, who loved her back every bit as much. “You’re so much more to me, Ryan.”
And if she couldn’t help but feel a tiny little rush of pleasure at Anthony having to watch his ex-wife’s big, strong, gorgeous pro-baseball-playing fiancé claim her mouth in the middle of the museum floor, well, she was only human after all...
When they finally came up for air, Anthony had taken his position on the stage with the rest of the board. The stage lights were bright and nerves fairly vibrated off the walls from the dozens of artists hoping to win a fellowship position. Fellowships would be awarded tonight to one painter, one photographer, one digital artist, one clothing designer, one mixed-media artist, and one sculptor.
As they began to announce the winners one by one, Vicki’s hands grew sore from clapping so hard, especially when Anne’s name was called. Not only were her clothing designs brilliant, but she’d also created all of the textiles from scratch.
Anne winked at her from the stage and Vicki hugged Ryan even tighter. “I’m so glad we came tonight. I wouldn’t have wanted to miss seeing her win.”
Finally, they were down to Vicki's category. Anthony came forward holding a thick white envelope.
“It was a great honor to be asked to join the fellowship board this year. Some magical essence in San Francisco’s salty air not only makes the sourdough bread unparalleled, but it seems to have worked the same magic on all of you. In the thirty years that I have been invited to judge similar competitions, I can honestly say that I have never seen such an impressive group of projects.”
Events like this, Vicki had to admit, were where Anthony excelled. Up on stage, he was both confident in his position and generous with his compliments. And the truth was, she wouldn’t have married him if he hadn’t had any redeeming qualities. She didn’t doubt that he’d loved her. He simply hadn’t had the capacity to love her right.