"Ryan." His name was a whisper on her lips, one that reverberated way down into his soul.

"Cup your b.r.e.a.s.t.s for me. Do it the way I would if I were there."

He loved the little moan that escaped her right before she said, "I wish you were here. Tell me what to do, Ryan. Tell me how you want me."

Oh h.e.l.l, he almost lost it right then and there. "Lick your thumbs then brush them over yourself like they're my tongue." He could imagine the taste of her so well it was almost as if he was in California with her sensitive flesh taut and so d.a.m.n sweet against his tongue. "G.o.d, you taste good."

"I love your mouth on me. The scratch of your stubble against me, the way you start to suck and bite at my skin when you lose control."

"I'm losing control now." He couldn't see her smile, but he knew her well enough to be absolutely certain that her gorgeous lips were curving up at the edges. "I need to touch more of you."

"Where, Ryan? Tell me where."

"Leave your left hand on your perfect b.r.e.a.s.t.s and start moving the right one down over your stomach and keep going. I'll tell you when to stop."

A few moments later, her swift intake of breath told him that her hand had reached the sweet, slick flesh between her legs.

"You've stopped already, haven't you?"

"I-" She panted. "I need-"

"I know what you need, sweetheart." Because he needed it, too. Not just tonight. Not just for a few months.

Forever.

"First I want you to tell me how you taste." He'd planned to make her beg, but he was the one saying, "Please."

He swore he could hear the slow slick of her tongue over her damp fingers. "A little salty." She paused. "And a little sweet."

"You're so beautiful. So perfect." His breath was coming as fast as it did when he ran sprints. "Walk over to the couch and lie down on it. Pretend I'm there with you. Over you. Sliding into you."

"Oh G.o.d, Ryan. Yes."

"Are you touching yourself?"

"Yes, and I'm so close."

"I am, too." He'd never been so turned on in all his life, but instead of telling her that, the words that came were, "I love you. So d.a.m.n much."

She gave a low cry of pleasure before her breath whooshed into his ear. "I love you, too."

With the crystal clear picture in his head of her gorgeous naked curves bucking up into her hands, he gave up his own control and let his release follow hers.

Vicki couldn't believe she'd just had phone s.e.x with Ryan.

And it had been amazing.

She wanted to clasp the knowledge to her chest and hold it there, along with all their other firsts. Wanting him as close as she could get him, she shifted on the couch to pick up the cell phone from the counter.

"You're not putting your clothes back on, are you?"

Even though he wasn't there to see her, she still flushed at her nakedness...and the shockingly sweet fact that he'd asked her to strip down less than a minute after picking up her call.

She put the phone to her ear and said, "I promised you a full day, didn't I?"

His laughing response was layered with unquenched desire. She knew exactly how he felt. Her o.r.g.a.s.m had been fantastic. But it wasn't nearly enough to quench her need for him.

"I hope you made good on your other promise to me."

She wrapped the blanket from his couch around her and sat down. The message he'd left for her had been full of love. And worry. She didn't want to add to it. But she also wanted-and needed-to be completely honest with him from here on out. She was tired of the lies.

And she refused ever to tell another one to the man she loved.

"I had a great day at the studio, even though everyone had already read the interview by the time I got there."

Ryan cursed. "I take it James came by?"

"Everyone but him, actually. I know we're all supposed to be competing for the fellowship, but everyone was really great about it, especially when they learned that Anthony has been added to the board." She'd been more than a little surprised by the support from her fellow artists, and not just the ones she thought of as friends.

"No one wants to be sold out like that."

Vicki wasn't surprised that Ryan had cut right to the heart of it. Whoever said jocks were dumb or clueless had never met her ballplayer.

"And they know you, how hard you work, how pa.s.sionate you are about everything you do."

"Thank you for always believing in me. And for loving me."

And yet, even as she felt his support all the way down in her core, she had to pull the blanket tighter around her shoulders to try to combat the chill that was trying to take her over as she worked out how to tell him about Italy.

"Something else happened today, didn't it?" he asked.

When would she stop being surprised that he knew her better than anyone? And that he could read her silences better than anyone had ever understood her actual words?

"I got a phone call. From Italy. It wasn't Anthony," she said quickly, before Ryan got the wrong idea. "A major museum of contemporary sculpture wants to put together an exhibition of my work."

"That's amazing, Vicki. Why didn't you tell me the good news as soon as we got on the phone?"

"Because-" She could feel every single mile between them and knew how much farther away she'd be if she went to Italy. "-they don't just want my sculptures. They want me, too. As an artist-in-residence. For at least a year."

"Italy is a big deal, isn't it? Bigger than San Francisco."

She couldn't lie to him. "Yes, it's a big deal."

Ryan was silent for several brutally long moments. "You know my mother was born in Italy, don't you?"

"I do." When Vicki had complimented Mary on her spaghetti sauce, his mother had told her about learning it from her Italian grandmother.

"And did you also know there's an Italian national baseball team that isn't half bad?"

Quickly putting it all together, she said, "You're not going to play baseball in Italy, Ryan."

"It would be fun."

"Don't be crazy," she said when she realized he was serious. "You can't give up your career for me and a year in Italy that might not mean anything at all in the long run."

"I know you've never come first before, not with your family or your ex-husband, but I meant it when I said I would do anything for you. Anything."

"But your career-"

"Has been great. And you know what? I would trade every single win to have spent those years with you."

"No, you wouldn't." Her eyes felt wet with the tears she was trying to hold back. "But I love you for even thinking it."

"Yes, I would," he countered. "And I love you, too, amore mio."

When he called her "my love" in Italian, more tears fell.

"The museum gave me a little while to decide, so don't quit the team just yet," she told him in as light a voice as she could, as though the whole idea of him quitting the Hawks was utterly preposterous.

Which it was. Vicki would never in a million years force him to choose between her and baseball. Yes, she'd heard what he said. And she believed he meant it.

But how could she ever forgive herself if she took him up on it?

When she had married Anthony, she hadn't realized all the things she'd be giving up. If she turned down a year in Italy, at least she'd be doing it with her eyes wide open.

Knowing they weren't going to make any more headway tonight, she said, "Now that we've covered my day, it's your turn to tell me all about yours. Especially the part where you got sweaty and your muscles bulged."

"Well," he teased her back, "I got this phone call tonight..."

For the next hour they shared the little details of their day that no one else would have cared about, but that meant the world to each of them. And after Ryan convinced her to take the phone into the master bathroom and get into the bathtub, and she was calling out his name as she followed his wickedly sensual instructions to the letter, she momentarily forgot that she'd ever had a worry in her life.

Chapter Twenty-five.

Ryan would gladly have stayed on the phone with Vicki all night, but she insisted he get some sleep before his big game. She'd whispered how much she loved him one more time before she disconnected.

But even with her soft, sweet words of love playing on repeat in his head, he couldn't sleep.

They hadn't talked about Italy again before disconnecting, but it was clear that they both knew a long-distance relationship between San Francisco and Matera was next to impossible given his career. Sure, there were weeks here or there where he could leave town and work out from the road, but as soon as spring training started, he would be locked into a home and travel schedule that was set in stone.

After waiting so long for Vicki to finally be his, he wanted-needed-more time laughing with her, loving her. Not less, d.a.m.n it!

If he asked her to give up Italy for him, he knew what would happen. Just as she'd thrown herself in front of a car for a stranger in high school, she'd let him wrap his love around her like a chain now.

The question wasn't whether she'd stay. Not when he already knew she was planning to turn down the residency in Italy and the triumph that she deserved after so many years of playing second fiddle to her ex-husband's ego.

The only question that remained was how much she'd end up hating Ryan after she'd given up the chance of a lifetime for him.

Some how, some way, he needed to stop her from making a choice she'd regret forever.

The moon was still high in the sky by the time Vicki gave up on sleep. She knew Ryan wouldn't like her driving through some of the sketchier districts at three a.m., but she couldn't spend one more second in his big bed without his arms around her. She'd even tried curling up on the couch, but thinking about their lovemaking on the soft cushions only made her miss him more.

What, she wondered as she let herself into the dark, empty fellowship building, was he doing right now? Was he missing her the way she was missing him? Or was he worrying about her news of a possible residency in Italy?

She hoped he was sleeping. He needed to be fresh for the first playoff game. And she would never forgive herself if his performance on the mound took a hit because he was worrying about her.

The smell of clay settled her down some, along with the promise she'd made Ryan to hold her focus on her sculpture. Before they finally put down their phones earlier tonight, he'd made her promise again. And she knew he was right, that working with clay was the one thing guaranteed to make her feel better.

Especially when her only other guaranteed cure was in Missouri.

Amazingly, once she sat down to work, the hours flew by until the sun rose and filled her studio with light. It was only when her stomach started cramping from hunger that she realized it had to be close to noon.

Which meant she had to find a TV-and fast-so that she could catch Ryan's game.

Vicki grabbed her bag and was skidding down the hallway when Anne caught her. "I'm starved. Want to go grab something?"

"I can't." She ignored her stomach growling loudly in protest. "Ryan's first playoff game is about to start. I've got to find a TV."

"I know just the place. It's a sports bar with the cutest bartender on the planet. Going there for lunch with you will give me a good chance to flirt some more. Especially with the street cred of hanging with the star pitcher's girl." Anne grinned unabashedly. "Follow me."

Vicki would never have found the sports bar on her own and was beyond glad to see the game had only just started on the big-screen TVs above the bar. She slid onto one of the only two open bar stools as Ryan took his place on the mound.

"Seriously," Anne said as she slid a menu in front of Vicki, "that man of yours is too gorgeous to be real. We can still be friends even if I can't help fantasizing about him, right?"

But Vicki barely heard her friend's joke as the cameras pulled in for a closeup on Ryan.

She frowned at the expression on his face...and how tired he looked. She knew the first playoff game was a big deal, but even under major pressure he usually looked relaxed enough for one to think it was nothing more than a pick-up game between friends on a local field.

She pointed to the first thing she saw on the menu when the bartender asked her what she wanted to eat, even though she knew she wouldn't be able to eat a bite while she was watching the game.

Ryan looked down at the catcher, got the sign, went into his windup, and threw a blazing fastball over the plate for strike one. She felt some of the tension leave her body, but when his next two pitches missed the plate, she tensed right up again.

She had nothing riding on whether the Hawks won the game or not, but she knew how seriously Ryan took his job. He felt responsible not only to the team that signed his paychecks, but also to the Hawks' enthusiastic fans.

After evening out the count at two b.a.l.l.s, two strikes with a sharp slider, Ryan threw a high outside fastball, but the batter didn't chase it. She watched the catcher give Ryan a sign before he threw a fastball that hit the low outside corner of the strike zone.

Only, instead of calling it strike three, the home plate umpire sent the hitter to first base with a walk.