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.

Hand in hand they walked inside, but instead of being able to head straight toward the elevators, a group of teenagers circled him asking for autographs.

When he hesitated, Vicki assured him, “We have all the time in the world.”

Without once letting go of her hand, he signed autographs and took pictures with the kids and answered their endless questions until he was finally able to say good-night. When he realized that waiting for the elevator would only bring on a fresh rush of fans, he dragged her off to the empty stairwell beside the elevators.

As soon as the heavy metal door clicked shut, he told her, “I want to go to Italy with you.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered against his lips, “Who needs Italy when we’ve got a stairwell in St. Louis?”

Of course he had to kiss her. And, of course their kiss quickly morphed into his pressing her against the gray painted wall so that he could get in closer to her.

When she smiled up at him, he realized the shadows that been in her eyes since she’d returned to San Francisco were finally gone.

“You don’t know what it means to me that you’d be willing to give up so much for me,” she said. “But you don’t have to. Not this time, anyway.”

“A residency in Italy at a major museum is what you’ve always wanted. I’ve had the big prize, many times over. It’s been fun, but now it’s your turn. Why would you turn down the opportunity of a lifetime?”

“Because I’ve finally figured out what I want, Ryan. What I’ve wanted all along.” She pressed another kiss to his lips. “You’re hard everywhere I’m soft. You love a crowd, when all those people make me want to run in the opposite direction. You’re easy and effortless, I’m always twisting myself up trying for something just out of reach. I thought those were all the reasons why we could never work as a couple. But I was wrong, so very wrong.” She moved her fingertips over his jaw. “Our differences are exactly why we’re so good together.”

“Two halves of a whole.”

“Exactly.” She smiled up at him. “Which is why I want you, Ryan.”

“You have me. Forever. And you deserve Italy, too.”

“I know I do.”

He was transfixed by the look in her eyes that told him she finally understood—and owned—the depths of her own talent.

“All my adult life I’ve been striving for the big career, for the recognition. My ex fed right into this, both during our marriage, when success always seemed just out of reach, and then after our divorce, when I wanted to win just for the pleasure of spiting him and showing him how wrong he was about me. The call from Italy should have been the greatest moment of my life. But while it felt great to be wanted and respected, I’m finally listening to that little voice inside of me.”