Let Me Be the One
Page 17
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
Favoring her? Nothing could be further from the truth. Vicki was right at the bottom of his favorites list...and had been since long before they’d divorced.
She could feel Ryan bristling with the need to defend and protect her. She appreciated the strong friendship that was behind that urge, but just having him here with her was enough.
She wouldn’t rise to the bait, but she needed to know. “When will he be coming to San Francisco?”
“While he will be judging via photos and video, I have asked him to squeeze the awards ceremony into his very busy schedule.” James smiled at both of them. “I believe he’s making travel arrangements as we speak.”
Vicki didn’t bother smiling back. Why should she, when there was no point? Her refusal to sleep with James had lowered the lid on her coffin. Anthony’s arrival—and vote against her fellowship sculpture—would nail it down.
Still, she refused to give James the satisfaction of thinking he and her ex had broken her. Not when it was so clearly what they were after.
Pushing her rage down far enough to be civil, she said, “I know you have so many demands on your time, James,” in a soft but steely voice. “I really appreciate your taking a few moments to stop in to see me.”
It was the world’s politest dismissal. One even he couldn’t ignore.
“It was a pleasure seeing you again, Mr. Sullivan. Best of luck with your game this afternoon.”
As soon as he left, Ryan said, “They can’t do this, not when they know he was married to you. There’s no way he can judge your work with any kind of impartiality.”
“Of course they can do it. And I suspect they’re thrilled about the drama of it all—that they all feel like they’re choreographing a juicy reality show.” She narrowed her eyes. “I won’t give them that drama.”
Ryan pulled her into him and held her there for several sweet moments. She wrapped her arms around him, too, and let the steady beat of his heart against her cheek soothe—and strengthen—her. She knew him well enough, and had a good enough sense of the power he must wield via fame and fortune, to guess just how hard her friend was working to push back his need to take care of the whole messy situation for her.
“I don’t have to be at the stadium for a few more minutes, if you want to get out of here for a while.”
Vicki had never been a quitter, but she’d finally been pushed right to the edge of her bounce-back threshold. “I can’t let them win,” she said softly. “So that means I need to finish what I started here.”
Ryan stroked a hand over her hair. “That isn’t why you need to finish it, Vicki.”
Surprised, she looked up at him. “Sure it is.”
He pulled her over to the clay she’d been shaping with her hands in a rush of inspiration when he’d walked in thirty minutes ago. “This is why you need to finish.” He paused to give her time to study the beginning she’d been so excited about before James had come to crush her like a bug. “Because your project is amazing.”
Yet again, she wondered what she would have done without Ryan there.
“Are you going to be okay?”
She took a deep breath. “Yes, I think so.” A quick shiver moved through her. “I still feel a little icky all over, but fine.” She tried to smile at him. “I’m glad you were here, though. But not just because of him.” She felt suddenly shy. “It was fun teaching you how to work the wheel again. Maybe we could try again sometime when we both have more time?”
“I had fun with it.” He pulled off the apron she’d given him and gave her forehead a kiss as he handed it back to her. “And with you.”
Vicki desperately wanted to read more into every word he said, into every brush of his skin against hers, even into the friendly kiss he’d brushed against her forehead. At the very least, James’s visit had been a good reminder that anything with Ryan beyond friendship was just a game they were playing.
“I don’t want you to be late to the stadium because of me.”
“If he comes back again, without the rest of the board—”
This time she was the one pressing a kiss to his cheek. Just as friendly a kiss as his had been. “Stop worrying. After what he just saw, he can’t possibly think we’re making our relationship up.”
She flushed as she realized, too late, what she’d just implied...that only two people who were dating would have been so close, so playful with each other at the potting wheel. She quickly moved to clean up the mess she and Ryan had made..
“How does goulash sound after you win the game? It’s a Prague specialty.”
“You don’t have to cook tonight, Vicki.”
“I want to. Cooking always settles me down when things go haywire.”
He gave her a look that asked without words just how many times she’d had to deal with haywire before now. “It sounds so good that I’ll keep my post-game meeting quick.”
He was clearly reluctant to leave, so she put her hands on his back and pushed him toward the door. “Go be a superstar. I’ll see you tonight.”
When he finally left, closing the door behind him, she wanted to collapse against it. Both from the fury and frustration at what James and Anthony were pulling, and from just how hard she was working to keep her feelings for Ryan hidden.
She looked more closely at her new sculpture. She knew what she’d felt when she was making it...and she knew what she felt now as she looked at it. Ryan had felt it too, she was certain of it. He might not be trained in art or sculpture, but she valued his opinion. And she’d believed him when he said he thought it was fantastic.
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 classic 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.
She could feel Ryan bristling with the need to defend and protect her. She appreciated the strong friendship that was behind that urge, but just having him here with her was enough.
She wouldn’t rise to the bait, but she needed to know. “When will he be coming to San Francisco?”
“While he will be judging via photos and video, I have asked him to squeeze the awards ceremony into his very busy schedule.” James smiled at both of them. “I believe he’s making travel arrangements as we speak.”
Vicki didn’t bother smiling back. Why should she, when there was no point? Her refusal to sleep with James had lowered the lid on her coffin. Anthony’s arrival—and vote against her fellowship sculpture—would nail it down.
Still, she refused to give James the satisfaction of thinking he and her ex had broken her. Not when it was so clearly what they were after.
Pushing her rage down far enough to be civil, she said, “I know you have so many demands on your time, James,” in a soft but steely voice. “I really appreciate your taking a few moments to stop in to see me.”
It was the world’s politest dismissal. One even he couldn’t ignore.
“It was a pleasure seeing you again, Mr. Sullivan. Best of luck with your game this afternoon.”
As soon as he left, Ryan said, “They can’t do this, not when they know he was married to you. There’s no way he can judge your work with any kind of impartiality.”
“Of course they can do it. And I suspect they’re thrilled about the drama of it all—that they all feel like they’re choreographing a juicy reality show.” She narrowed her eyes. “I won’t give them that drama.”
Ryan pulled her into him and held her there for several sweet moments. She wrapped her arms around him, too, and let the steady beat of his heart against her cheek soothe—and strengthen—her. She knew him well enough, and had a good enough sense of the power he must wield via fame and fortune, to guess just how hard her friend was working to push back his need to take care of the whole messy situation for her.
“I don’t have to be at the stadium for a few more minutes, if you want to get out of here for a while.”
Vicki had never been a quitter, but she’d finally been pushed right to the edge of her bounce-back threshold. “I can’t let them win,” she said softly. “So that means I need to finish what I started here.”
Ryan stroked a hand over her hair. “That isn’t why you need to finish it, Vicki.”
Surprised, she looked up at him. “Sure it is.”
He pulled her over to the clay she’d been shaping with her hands in a rush of inspiration when he’d walked in thirty minutes ago. “This is why you need to finish.” He paused to give her time to study the beginning she’d been so excited about before James had come to crush her like a bug. “Because your project is amazing.”
Yet again, she wondered what she would have done without Ryan there.
“Are you going to be okay?”
She took a deep breath. “Yes, I think so.” A quick shiver moved through her. “I still feel a little icky all over, but fine.” She tried to smile at him. “I’m glad you were here, though. But not just because of him.” She felt suddenly shy. “It was fun teaching you how to work the wheel again. Maybe we could try again sometime when we both have more time?”
“I had fun with it.” He pulled off the apron she’d given him and gave her forehead a kiss as he handed it back to her. “And with you.”
Vicki desperately wanted to read more into every word he said, into every brush of his skin against hers, even into the friendly kiss he’d brushed against her forehead. At the very least, James’s visit had been a good reminder that anything with Ryan beyond friendship was just a game they were playing.
“I don’t want you to be late to the stadium because of me.”
“If he comes back again, without the rest of the board—”
This time she was the one pressing a kiss to his cheek. Just as friendly a kiss as his had been. “Stop worrying. After what he just saw, he can’t possibly think we’re making our relationship up.”
She flushed as she realized, too late, what she’d just implied...that only two people who were dating would have been so close, so playful with each other at the potting wheel. She quickly moved to clean up the mess she and Ryan had made..
“How does goulash sound after you win the game? It’s a Prague specialty.”
“You don’t have to cook tonight, Vicki.”
“I want to. Cooking always settles me down when things go haywire.”
He gave her a look that asked without words just how many times she’d had to deal with haywire before now. “It sounds so good that I’ll keep my post-game meeting quick.”
He was clearly reluctant to leave, so she put her hands on his back and pushed him toward the door. “Go be a superstar. I’ll see you tonight.”
When he finally left, closing the door behind him, she wanted to collapse against it. Both from the fury and frustration at what James and Anthony were pulling, and from just how hard she was working to keep her feelings for Ryan hidden.
She looked more closely at her new sculpture. She knew what she’d felt when she was making it...and she knew what she felt now as she looked at it. Ryan had felt it too, she was certain of it. He might not be trained in art or sculpture, but she valued his opinion. And she’d believed him when he said he thought it was fantastic.
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 classic 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.
