Part 7 (1/2)
Of course, there were other things she'd felt during the past hour, in addition to the anger at her ex snooping in on her life and James trying to intimidate her.
Because when she'd looked up to find Ryan watching her from the doorway, she'd been hit with a level of silly-stupid giddy she'd never felt with anyone before. Not since she was a teenager, anyway, when she'd hear Ryan pulling his cla.s.sic rebuilt car up to the curb outside her parents' garage.
It had been so easy to go down memory lane with him and to reenact that night when she'd tried to teach him to make a pot. Only, she'd never have been bold enough at fifteen to get between his legs like that.
She'd known better today, hadn't she? Being that close to him, with her hands on his while his heart beat strong and steady against her back, his breath on her bared neck, was borderline stupid when she was trying to keep it together around him.
But how could she resist?
A knock came at the door and then her new friend, Anne, popped her head in. The clothing designer was in her mid-twenties, with bright green and blue hair and a shocking number of piercings. She also happened to be a brilliant artist with extremely wise eyes.
”Did the best-looking guy I've ever seen find you?”
Vicki had to laugh at that far-too-accurate description of Ryan. She was glad to feel the laughter rush through her, replacing some of the anger and frustration, if not the lingering desire.
”He did.”
”And?” Anne held up her hand. ”No, never mind. I don't want to have to hate you even more than I currently do, so it's probably better if you don't give me any details. So,” she asked with a lightning-fast change of subjects, ”are you ready for this afternoon?”
The board members-and James-would be here in less than four hours, along with someone to film the fellows.h.i.+p applicant's progress to send to her ex in Italy.
Forcefully pus.h.i.+ng away the sense of impending defeat that wanted to ride her, she said, ”Hopefully. You?”
Anne shrugged. ”Who knows. They'll either love what I'm working on or hate it. But honestly, whether they do or don't, I don't much care.”
”Wait a minute.” Vicki was confused. ”I thought you wanted the fellows.h.i.+p.”
”Oh, I do. Badly. The money would be fabulous, not to mention the contacts.” Anne shrugged. ”None of that changes whether or not I like my project, though. So caring about their opinions is kind of beside the point, don't you think?”
Vicki had to nod. Because Anne was right. Beyond right, actually. ”How'd you get to be so smart so young?”
”Battle scars, baby. Once I realized that I beat myself up more than they ever could, I decided to start with kindness at home.” She made a funny face. ”I've got to find a s.e.xier way of saying that.”
”No, you don't,” Vicki said softly. ”Kindness is incredibly s.e.xy.”
It was something Ryan had proved to her again and again.
”You want a coffee?” When Vicki shook her head, her friend grinned and said with uncanny precision, ”In that case, I'll leave you to get back to your dirty thoughts about Mr. Gorgeous.”
Oh G.o.d, was she that transparent?
Chapter Eight.
That night, when Ryan walked through the door, his smile made her tingly in the kinds of places friends shouldn't get tingly in when looking at each other. Still, she tried not to beat up on herself too much for being a normal woman with normal hormones. Of course she got tingly with him. Who wouldn't?
It was one thing to feel those zings of desire for the gorgeous man walking toward her. It was another thing entirely to be stupid enough to actually do something about them.
Of course, he sure didn't make it any easier for her to stuff down her perfectly normal and human female hormones when he drew her against him for a hug. Oh, what wouldn't she give just to melt here against him...
”It smells amazing. Did you find everything you needed in the kitchen?”
”Are you kidding?” She made herself step out of his arms. ”Professional chefs don't have it this good. I didn't know you were into cooking.”
He looked a little sheepish. ”I'm not. One of the women I was dating for a while was taking cooking lessons, so...”
She turned back to the stove while trying to look like it didn't bother her at all that some other woman had cooked for Ryan here, a woman who had probably been tall and slim, with perfect b.r.e.a.s.t.s and a small b.u.t.t. Since Vicki couldn't help her lack of inches in height-or the extra ones around her hips, either-she silently told herself to stop acting like an idiot.
Of course, it didn't help that she remembered all too vividly his dating in high school, even without having seen some of the pictures of his beautiful companions these past years in the international press. It was the downside of knowing someone so well for so long. There wasn't much that could stay hidden, even if you wished it would.
Wanting to push past the slightly awkward moment, she said brightly, ”I caught the last few innings of your game. Congrats on the win.” Ryan hadn't been pitching, but she'd enjoyed the glimpses of him in the dugout.
”It's a good group this year.” He snagged a slice of bell pepper from her cutting board. ”If everything keeps going well, I think we've got a pretty good chance of winning the World Series again.”
When he uncorked a bottle of red wine, she shot a glance at the bottle and then at him. ”Can we agree in advance that if I fall asleep on you again tonight, we'll both pretend it never happened and that I can totally hold my liquor?”
”Agreed,” he said with a grin. He handed her a gla.s.s before pouring his own and lifting it in a toast. ”Here's to finally making it past first base with the potting wheel today.”
She laughed as she clinked her gla.s.s against his. ”And to ex-girlfriends who went absolutely crazy at Williams-Sonoma.” At his confused expression, she laughed again and said, ”It's a cookware store.”
She was about to take a sip when he leaned in as if he were sharing a secret. ”She couldn't cook worth a d.a.m.n.”
Relief shouldn't have bubbled up in her that she had something on the supermodel who had previously graced his kitchen. But she forgot all about being petty as she got her first sip of wine.
A moan escaped her lips. ”My G.o.d. What is this?” After one incredibly smooth taste, she wouldn't be surprised to find out it cost more than her monthly rent in Prague.
”One of Marcus's special vintages.”
She took another sip and closed her eyes to really savor the taste. ”Yet another reason why you have the best family ever. You don't know how many times I wished I was a Sullivan.”
Her eyes flew open as she realized what she'd just-stupidly-blurted. Quickly putting her gla.s.s of wine down, she busied herself with turning down the burner, plating their salads, and bringing them over to the small table by the windows rather than into the big dining room on the other side of the kitchen.
Ryan followed her with their gla.s.ses of wine. As soon as they sat down, he told her, ”I always loved it when you came over to our house. We all did.”
She jammed her fork into a cuc.u.mber and tried not to flush too brightly at his sweet words. It didn't help that he was pure female fantasy in his dress s.h.i.+rt, tie, and dark slacks. Ryan in jeans and a T-s.h.i.+rt was yummy. In dress clothes he amped the yum way up. Especially when she thought about reaching over to help him off with his tie and then uncovering his tanned muscles one b.u.t.ton at a time ”How did your meeting with the fellows.h.i.+p board go? They must have loved your new idea.”
She thought about it for a minute before saying, ”You can never really tell what they're thinking when they put on their poker faces.”
It occurred to her how nice it was to be able to share these feelings with a true friend who had known her since those early years when she'd been working so hard just to capture laughter with clay. With almost anyone else, she would have felt she needed to make her answer s.h.i.+ny and snappy.
It was even nicer when he said, ”If they don't love it-if they let James or your ex sway them in any way-they're all idiots.”
”Spoken like a true friend,” she said as she smiled across the table at him. ”Actually, Anne said something interesting to me this afternoon that I'm still processing.”
”Is she the one with the blue and green hair?”
”It was orange a couple of days ago,” Vicki said with a laugh. ”She was probably the only person there tonight who didn't care about people's opinions of her work and wasn't living and dying on every smile or frown.”