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 ass**le 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 bitch. Talented as all hell 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 knob 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 baseballs. 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 sex 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, passionately 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.”