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 s.e.xy 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 h.e.l.l 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 gay-she would be rolling with this no problem.

Yes, that was what she'd do.

She'd pretend he was gay.

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."

"He tricked you."

"Maybe, but I should have known better, enough to at least trust my instincts about him when he gave me the creeps at the studio. In any case, between his thinking you and I are an item and all the people that will be at the studio this afternoon, I can't imagine he'd try anything."

"He'd better not." Her friend's expression was fierce. "You mean too much to me. Why don't you give me the address of the studio, just in case."

He'd just typed it into his phone when it rang.

"It's my cousin. Sorry, I need to take this." He put the phone to his ear. "Rafe, hold on a sec."

He rattled around in a kitchen drawer and pulled out a set of car keys. "I wish I could take you back and forth from the studio, but now that I've moved you way out to the edge of the city, why don't you use one of my cars so you're not stuck on my schedule?"

She knew he was right, that it didn't make sense for her to try to get from Sea Cliff to the Mission on the bus. But as she took the keys, she felt more and more like she was taking advantage of him. Not only was he playing her fake boyfriend, but he'd also given her an oceanfront mansion to live in and now she held the keys to one of the shiny cars in his garage.

Ryan gave her an absentminded kiss on her cheek before he walked away, but she could tell he'd all but forgotten her as he walked off to talk with his cousin.

Vicki took their plates over to the sink, then washed and dried them while trying to enjoy the view of the morning sun over the ocean despite feeling like a complete interloper.

As she watched the gold and green and blue water merge, then break against the sh.o.r.e, a buzzing began just beneath her skin.

It was that feeling she got when inspiration hit. Big-time inspiration.

She rushed back up to the bedroom to put on some flip-flops and grab her bag. Even the luxurious interior of the Porsche convertible Ryan had given her to drive barely registered as she raced against traffic toward the parking garage nearest to the studio.

She'd waited so long to feel this rush of inspiration again that she could literally feel the energy about to burst from her fingers.

Vicki practically ran from the parking garage to the building the fellowship committee had opened up to the candidates. Making a beeline for her small studio, she flicked on the light switch, dropped her bag to the ground, and grabbed a new container of Plasticine modeling clay. Later, if she nailed a small-scale model, she'd make it full size with oil-based clay.

It was so easy to overthink this feeling, to stop and drill down to see where it had come from, to want to know not only where exactly it had come from, but also where it was going. Fortunately, after years of experience, Vicki knew better than to make the mistake of doing any of those things.

All she needed to do today was go with it, let the clay talk to her through her fingers...and pray that it all made sense when she resurfaced.

It was, she suddenly realized, like trusting the ocean tide to take her out with it before bringing her back in again, refreshed and renewed.

Slipping on her headphones and putting a recording of the ocean on repeat, she placed her hands on the clay and closed her eyes. Following her instincts, she let herself shape and carve, enjoying the sweet pleasure of the emotion flowing from the center of her chest, then down her arms and out of her fingers.

The rhythm of water in her ears matched her heartbeat as she worked steadily, lost to time, to thirst or hunger, to anything but the pure, sweet joy of creation.

Ryan slipped his phone back into his pocket and stared out over the ocean as he thought about what Rafe had told him.

James Sedgwick had come up clean. A little too clean, according to his cousin. Ryan was fully confident that if there was anything to find on the guy, Rafe would find it. Unfortunately, it looked like he was going to have to wait for his cousin to dig deeper.

While he'd been on the line with Rafe, Vicki had headed out. Unable to shake the feeling that he and Vicki had left things in a strange place at breakfast, Ryan decided to drop by her studio to see her and her project before going to the stadium for a pregame workout.

As he drove back into one of the seedier parts of San Francisco, just thinking about Vicki working in this part of town made it hard to keep his possessive, protective nature in check when he wanted so badly to make sure nothing ever hurt her again.

All those years, if he'd known she hadn't been happy with her husband, he would have- What?

What would he have done?

Chased her halfway around the world and begged her for what? To let him sleep with her like every a.s.shole who wanted a piece of her?

Or, he suddenly found himself wondering, would he actually have been begging for something more?

Chapter Six.

Ryan spent several minutes poking his head into one studio after another, looking for Vicki, before a woman with blue and green hair finally took pity on him. "Who are you looking for?"

"Vicki Bennett."

"Lucky b.i.t.c.h. Talented as all h.e.l.l and now you." She pointed down the long hallway. "She's on the first floor at the back of the building."

He thanked her and his heartbeat immediately kicked up at the thought of seeing Vicki again as he made his way toward her workroom, even though he'd just had breakfast with her. Her door was open a few inches and he put his hand on the k.n.o.b to walk through it, but when he caught sight of her, he stopped dead in his tracks.

If seeing Vicki last night in her bra and panties had rocked his world, getting to watch her with clay beneath her hands, her legs open around her worktable, her feet bare, her eyes closed as she worked...was so far past world-rocking he didn't think they'd invented a term for it yet.

Some of the best nights of his life had been shared with Vicki in her parents' garage. She'd gotten used to him hanging with her while she worked. Some nights, when she was really intensely working on something, he'd work on his aim with a bag of baseb.a.l.l.s. And on the nights where she'd get frustrated and throw the clay against the wall, he'd take her stained hands in his and convince her it was time for a wetlands walk. They'd both wash their hands clean in the water and he'd want to kiss her so bad.

He could get s.e.x other places. Plenty of it, if he wanted. But he couldn't get what they had with anyone else.

Vicki was his friend, a real friend who didn't care if he was a great baseball player. She didn't expect him to be the easygoing, athletic Sullivan brother. She didn't need him to be the guy who was supposed to have the world at his feet.

Vicki never put any pressure on him to be anything at all. Just himself.

He had always thought she was beautiful, but she was never more beautiful than when she was deeply, pa.s.sionately creating.

Sun was streaming in through the windows along the back of her room, illuminating her beautiful skin, her long eyelashes fluttering over her cheekbones. She was biting her lower lip as she worked and then licking at the spot where her teeth had pressed a small mark. Now that he'd finally gotten a tiny taste of her, Ryan wanted so much more. He wanted to run his lips down past the pulse that beat on the side of her neck to the curve of her shoulder so that he could breathe in the clean, sweet scent of her skin.

She was small, but her fingers were long and strong as she worked the clay. But it wasn't just her hands that were moving. Every part of her was at least a little bit in motion, all the way down to her toes. She'd painted her nails with rainbow stripes and it occurred to him that Vicki was just as beautiful and mysterious as a rainbow.

One he'd been chasing for years without ever coming close to reaching the pot of gold at the end.

Telling himself that if she didn't come to a good stopping point soon, he'd head out to the stadium, Ryan leaned against the open door and dragged his gaze from her to take a look at what she was working on. Even though he owned several of her major pieces, seeing so many of her sculptures in one place at one time proved yet again just how staggering her skill was.

She'd been a talented teenager, but she'd turned talented into brilliant.

Vicki was just pulling out her earbuds, her eyes still closed as she lifted her arms above her head to stretch, when she opened them and saw him standing in the doorway. A surprised little squeak came from her lips and she almost toppled off her seat.

"Ryan? How long have you been here?"

He finally walked inside her workroom. "Long enough to be reminded all over again how talented you are."

She flushed and reached to push a stray strand of hair back behind her ear, streaking her cheek with clay. "Did you need something?"

"Just to see your studio and to apologize for leaving you to finish breakfast alone." He moved closer to the sculpture she'd been working on. "Is this the one you were telling me about last night? Overflow?"

"No, it's something new I was trying, but the inspiration came in such a rush this morning that I haven't even had a chance to look at it yet-"

Her words fell away as she turned to face the sculpture. She shook her head as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing.

She moved closer to it, her hand outstretched, then stopped as if she was afraid of getting too close.

Even though it was still rough around the edges, he could easily make out the shape of two hands entwined. It looked like surf breaking over them, with water moving over, under, and beneath the hands without breaking their hold on each other.

Ryan immediately flashed back to the previous night out on the beach, when he'd reached for her hand and she'd let him hold on to her for a little while.

"It's amazing, Vicki."

"It's just rough, raw clay," she said, but then she was sitting back down on her seat as if her legs had been on the verge of giving out. "Ryan?" She lifted her eyes to his and he couldn't tell if she was sad or happy. "I-"

He had to move closer to her, then, to put his hands on her shoulders to try to soothe her if that was what she needed.

He could feel the ragged breaths shaking her before she said, "I've been searching for this for so long." Without letting go of her shoulders, he shifted so he could see her face better and was rewarded with a gorgeous smile. "It isn't perfect. I'll have to take the time to sketch it, to make a much cleaner maquette to see where it isn't working and where it is. But for the first time since I got here-longer than that, actually, so much longer-I think I might actually have a chance at creating something good."

"Not just good, Vicki. Something amazing."

She jumped up out of her seat as quickly as she'd dropped into it and threw her arms around his neck. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and enjoyed the sweetness of her curves pressed against him.

Her face was radiant as she tilted it up to look at him. "I'm glad you came by to share this moment with me."

How he managed to fight the urge to kiss her, he'd never know. "Me too." He looked around at the other pieces in the room. "Looks like you've been busy this week."

She barely glanced at anything. "Dozens of false starts is all they are. They can all go in the trash now."

"You'd better be kidding." He ran his hand down her back to take her hand, then pulled her over to a shelf with blue sculptures of waves that were so fine and translucent they almost looked like gla.s.s. "These are amazing. How can you even make the clay do that?"

"You know how. You saw me throw plenty of clay against the garage walls that year trying to get it to do what I wanted it to do. I don't throw nearly as much at walls anymore, thankfully."

"Remember that night you tried to teach me to make a bowl?"

Vicki's laughter was the best sound in the world. "I'm afraid that even five-year-olds put your pottery-making skills to shame."

He'd been a h.o.r.n.y fifteen-year-old boy so distracted by her nearness, her scent, her hands over his as she tried to guide him with the clay that, for the first time in his life, he'd been all thumbs. Plus, he hadn't liked not being good at something right off the bat. It had been easier to give up early than to consider the possibility of failing later.

"I need to take a little break to clear my head and hands before I get working again." She lifted his hand, then picked up the other one and studied them. Her eyes were sparkling as she said, "What do you say we give these legendary hands of yours another try?"

He had to work like h.e.l.l to keep her from seeing just how much the idea of her trying anything at all with his "legendary hands" got him going. "I'm all yours."

At his response, her eyes met his again and he thought he heard her suck in a quick breath before she shook her head. "Go sit. I just need to dig out my wheel and some fresh clay. Put this on." She handed him a thick plastic ap.r.o.n. "We're going to get you all messy."

Holy h.e.l.l, the way she said messy in that sa.s.sy way had him just about bursting behind his zipper. What he wouldn't give to get messy with her.

Glad for the thick brown plastic to cover up his hard-on, he sat back and enjoyed watching Vicki gather everything and set it up in front of him. She'd always licked at the corner where her upper and lower lips came together when she was concentrating, and watching her little pink tongue wet her gorgeous mouth every few seconds had him losing control of himself for a split second and groaning out loud.

"Is everything okay?"

Just taking in her beautifully flushed skin, her big green eyes, the hair falling out of her ponytail and brushing over her shoulders, had him this close to saying, "No," grabbing her by her ponytail and dragging her mouth to his.

Instead, he forced "Never better" from his lips.

"Okay, we're ready." She pulled over another stool beside him and sat close enough that her thigh pressed against his.

"Aren't you going to get dirty?"