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?”
Ryan shrugged, even as his hand fisted behind Vicki’s back. “It’s a give and take. The pitching coach trusts my experience on the mound.” He paused a beat before adding, “And I trust him not to abuse his power by convincing me to do things I shouldn’t be doing.”
James’s bland expression didn’t waver the slightest bit at Ryan’s not-so-subtle warning. Vicki, on the other hand, squeezed his hand hard enough for him to know she wasn’t entirely pleased by the way he was playing the situation.
Ryan got it. She didn’t want to piss the guy off. But she had to know when she texted him tonight, and then called him honey the second he walked into the room, that he would make damn sure to protect her.
No matter what.
“Sounds like I interrupted an important discussion,” he said with another easy smile that he didn’t even come close to feeling. “I used to do the same thing when Vicki and I were kids. I’d swing by her house to hang out and she’d barely even look up from what she was working on. But I was totally mesmerized by her and her sculptures, even at fifteen.”
Back in high school, everyone had expected him to stick with the other jocks and the cheerleaders, but after a night game he was always glad to know he’d find Vicki in her garage at her potting wheel. Her hands would be covered in clay, with little splatters on her face and body. She’d look up and smile to let him know she saw him, but she wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t drop everything for him the way everyone else always did. He’d keep making jokes until she'd finally laugh and tell him he was bothering her, but then they’d talk. For hours, sometimes, as she created art right before his eyes. He didn’t always understand what she was making with such intense purpose. But even though he wasn’t an expert in modern art, he’d known without a doubt that she was special. Vicki was never afraid to reach, or head out of bounds, or screw up and start over a hundred times in a row.
“Vicki is pretty damn amazing, isn’t she, James?”
James bared his teeth at Ryan in what he assumed was supposed to pass as a smile. “As I’m sure she’s told you, everyone on the fellowship board is eager for her project to make the mark. Which is why I was so pleased that we could meet tonight to address a few specific issues. Victoria wouldn’t be a contender for the fellowship if I didn’t think she had potential.”
Potential? This a-hole thought Vicki had potential?
When she was a teenager she had potential. A decade and a half later, her sculptures were nothing short of masterful. Ryan should know, considering he owned a half-dozen.