Let Me Be the One (The Sullivans #6)(15)

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 g*y—she would be rolling with this no problem.

Yes, that was what she’d do.

She’d pretend he was g*y.

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.”