Let Me Be the One (The Sullivans #6)(72)

He punctuated his words by moving to the door and locking it. The click was horribly loud in her quiet studio.

So much of Vicki’s life had been about following—worse, not following—her instincts. She wouldn’t beat herself up anymore for all the times she hadn’t listened. But she would celebrate the fact that she’d finally started to pay attention to that little voice in the back of her head that had always been so much smarter than she’d given it credit for.

Right now the little voice was telling her that James was suave and cultured and charming and rich enough to always get what he wanted. Everything but her. Which meant that he was not just going to roll over and play dead when she said no. Even screaming no at him wouldn’t make a difference—not in an empty building.

So she would throw the word at him, instead.

“You’re right,” she said finally, as he stalked her, surely, confidently.

She moved toward her laden table of sculptures, so many of them false starts on the way to creating the sculpture that finally expressed everything her hands—and heart—had in them.

“Ryan and I aren’t engaged.”

His eyes filled with triumph. “That first night during cocktails, I knew he’d never kissed you before.” Fury rose again. “Did you really think you had pulled one over on me? No one pulls the wool over my eyes, Victoria.”

She’d counted on her admission to buy her a little time, and it had. Just enough to get within reach of her sculptures.

He moved closer. “Now it’s my turn to see just how sweet you taste.”

Even as revulsion swept through her, she felt surprisingly calm. Steady.

She reached for ANCHOR to throw it at him, but stopped just before her fingers could grasp it.

It was good, damn it.

Too good to waste on a creep like James.

She wrapped her fingers around one of her heaviest sculptures. “One thing about having a pro pitcher as a best friend—you learn how to always hit your mark. The size of your head will only make it easier.”

She was just lifting the clay up to throw it at him when he covered his head with both hands and skittered back so fast he could have been wearing roller skates.

“This is your last warning to stay the hell away from me.” She lifted her heavy sculpture higher and wound up to let it rip, but a beat before it left her fingers, he fumbled for the door lock and popped it open.

“I’m going to ruin you,” he snarled. Then fled.

Vicki was still holding the sculpture over her head when she realized he really was gone...and that she’d been the scary one this time.

She waited for shock to take her over, just as it had after she and Ryan had narrowly missed being hit by the car. But instead of dealing with shaking hands and a pounding heart, she felt clean. As if finally giving voice—and hands—to her rage had wiped years of frustration right out of her.

Just as she’d told Ryan a week ago, there was no guarantee that anyone would believe her claims about James’s behavior. Especially if he was already on his way to spread rumors about her, the most likely being that she had come on to him. But if there was a chance that she could stop anyone else from ever being on the receiving end of one of James’s oh-so-generous offers, she had to at least try.

Vicki put her sculpture back on the shelf, wiped off her hands on her shirt, and picked up her cell phone to make a few very important calls. “This is Vicki Bennett. There are a few things you should know about your fellow board member, James Sedgwick.”

Chapter Twenty-seven

The Hawks were still celebrating their first playoff game win, but even though Ryan’s pitching was one of the major reasons everyone was on such a high, the main person he wanted to celebrate with wasn’t there. He’d seen guys duck out of parties like this dozens of times over the years to go call their girlfriends and wives.

Now it was his turn.

He dialed Vicki’s cell as soon as he walked out of the bar, but she didn’t pick up. She’d promised to keep her phone somewhere she could feel it buzzing, even if she was working with her headphones on. Maybe she just needed to wipe the clay off her hands first. He couldn’t stop worrying about James trying something with her while he was gone, even though the creep had definitely kept a low profile around Vicki the past few days.

When her voice mail beeped, he said, “I have been thinking about you every single second since we hung up last night.”

Mostly, he’d thought about how easy it would be to let her to turn down the Italian residency so that he could keep skating through life. Just as easy as everything else had been for him.

But easy was overrated.

He wanted to earn Vicki’s love. Wanted to know that he’d fought hard for her heart—and for her happiness—every single day.

“I’ll be waiting in my room for you,” he told her, teasing, “It will probably save time if you have your clothes off already when you call me back.”

The bar was only a couple of blocks from their hotel and he was just about to walk in the front door when a cab skidded to a stop in front of the building. The door was flung open and every wish he’d ever had came true as Vicki jumped out and into his arms.

She rained kisses over Ryan’s cheeks, his chin, his eyelids, until he finally managed to capture her mouth with his. He never wanted to stop kissing her, never wanted to put her down, but the sooner he got her up to his room, the sooner she’d be naked and he’d be making love to her.