Let Me Be the One (The Sullivans #6)(4)

“Sorry I’m early, baby. I could have sworn you said you’d be free by eight.”

God, she felt good. Warm and soft in all the right places. She smelled just as good, like flowers blooming in the sun mixed with the earthy hint of the clay she was always working with.

She was stiff for a moment in his arms before she seemed to remember that they were pretending they were an item. Her hands shifted around Ryan’s back, before settling in just above his hips.

“Thank you,” she whispered as she hugged him, before saying an even softer, “I’m sorry.”

Didn’t she know she didn’t have a damn thing to apologize for? She’d saved his life when they were kids. He still owed her for that, would owe her for the rest of their lives.

Pretending to be her boyfriend for one night wasn’t even close to paying her back.

Especially when it meant he finally got to live out his secret fantasy.

Six years after she’d moved away from Palo Alto, he’d headed out from California to New York City to surprise her at her college graduation. She hadn’t mentioned any guy in her life in the emails they frequently sent back and forth when they were supposed to be studying, so when he saw her walk into the graduation ceremony on the arm of an older man who had clearly claimed her, and she looked so happy and glowing, the jealousy and frustration almost flattened him.

He’d been too late again.

Ryan had left her graduation without ever letting her know he’d come and the next thing he knew there was a breathless voice mail from her saying that she’d eloped and was moving to France.

He couldn’t help feeling that he’d just lost something vital...even though he’d never had her as anything but a friend in the first place. For the next ten years, she’d lived all over Europe with her husband, and after her fairly recent divorce had settled in Prague. Ryan had been toying with a trip to see her at the end of the baseball season. Instead, she’d come to San Francisco. And he was damn glad about it.

As she pulled back from their hug, he threaded their fingers together. He’d seen enough of his brothers and sisters fall in love this past year to know how it was supposed to look.

Always touching.

Adoring glances.

Little kisses when they thought no one was looking...and even when they were.

“James, I’d like to you meet Ryan Sullivan. My b—” When she momentarily stumbled over the tag, he pulled her closer into him. “—boyfriend. Ryan, this is James Sedgwick. You know how I’ve told you that he’s one of the foremost authorities on modern art?” She gave Ryan a blinding smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “James and I have been discussing my latest project for the fellowship competition. He has some very constructive suggestions for me.”

“What can I get you to drink, Mr. Sullivan?” James gestured to the heavily laden glass table against the wall.

“Call me Ryan,” he said in as easy a voice as he could manage, given the fact that he wanted to pound James’s head into the marble tabletop. “A beer would go down great, thanks.”

“Of course. If you will excuse me for a moment.”

Ryan had counted on James needing to head out to the bar to get his drink. As soon as the creep left, he said, “What the hell is going on here, Vicki?”

She shook her head, looking too pale and worried for his peace of mind. “I’ll tell you everything later. Just keep playing along. Please.”

James returned seconds later and Vicki gulped from her wine glass as the man handed the beer bottle to Ryan with clear distaste. “The bartender assured me you wouldn’t need a glass. I must congratulate you on your record season, Ryan.” James turned his attention back to Vicki. “I’m surprised you didn’t tell me who your boyfriend was before now. I’m very...impressed.”

This time she didn’t stumble as she smoothly replied, “I didn’t realize you were a baseball fan, James.” She turned to Ryan and smiled. “I should know by now that everyone is a fan of yours, shouldn’t I?”

She said it with such affection that even Ryan found himself believing that they were a couple for a moment. It was pure instinct to gently smooth the pad of his thumb over the faint drop of wine left on the corner of her bottom lip.

Her eyes flashed with sudden heat at the unexpected touch, and he wanted to kiss her, needed to find out just how sweet she would taste. Telling himself it would help them look like an item in front of this guy, Ryan dipped his head and pressed his mouth to hers.

So many years he’d waited for this moment, and sweet Lord, if it wasn’t even better than he thought it would be. The surface of her lips tasted like red wine and sugar and all Ryan wanted was to deepen the kiss and keep kissing her for hours. When he finally managed to pull back from the softest, sweetest mouth he’d ever tasted, Vicki’s skin was flushed.

“James and I were just talking about how being able to take criticism is one of the most important elements of creating great art.” Her voice seemed a little higher than usual and Ryan was pleased that one little kiss had had such an effect on her. “What was it you were saying when Ryan joined us?”

“Simply that anyone can mold clay into shapes,” James informed Ryan with a nod. “But it takes a true artist to heed wise direction. I’m sure you experience the same thing with your pitching coach, don’t you?”