Author: Bella Andre

“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?”

She held out her arms. “Haven’t you noticed? I already am.”

He finally saw that she had clay splattered all over her, most of it on her perfect breasts. The air coming in through the window was cool enough to have them pebbling slightly beneath her bra.

Which one had she put on today? Was it the black one with the small blue bow in the center or the—

His hard-on spiked again beneath his jeans as he quickly fell deeper down the slippery slope that was Vicki.

How could he have thought playing around with her like this was a good idea? But it was too late to get out of it now, even if he could have dragged himself away from her.

“Okay, first we need to center the clay. This is really important, so you’re on balance and not fighting with it the whole time. Are you comfortable?”

No. He’d need a freezing cold shower—or a few hours in bed with her—before he could even come close to getting comfortable.

When he nodded, she said, “Press your forearms against your thighs like this,” and unintentionally gave him a killer view down her tank top.

Pink lace. That was the bra she’d put on this morning. Worse still, it was cut low enough for her full breasts to almost spill out the top.

Just barely, he managed to do as she asked, repeating, “Forearms to thighs,” like an idiot.

She handed him a wet gray blob. “Okay, now center the clay on the wheel with a nice firm toss, so it sticks.”

His aim was dead-on and she hummed her approval. “Perfect. Now start it spinning slowly with your foot and—”

The second the wheel began to spin, the gray lump splooged against the rim of the wheel. He could see how hard Vicki was trying not to laugh.

“Go ahead,” he told her, “let it out.”

Her laughter immediately bubbled over. “I just had a major flashback to our old garage days. But don’t worry, I’m not as easily daunted anymore. I think I just need you to get a feel for the way it is when it’s working. Then you’ll be able to do it on your own.”

His heart almost stopped in his chest when she moved behind him and put her arms around his. “Shoot, I can’t reach the clay like this.” She moved beside him again, frowning. “Probably the only thing that will work is if I face you on the other side or—” She stopped, shook her head.

“Or what?”

“I could try sitting between your legs.” She gave him a crooked grin. “You know, in the classic Ghost position, but without the sex afterward.”

He worked to keep his grin easy, his joke light. “And here I was sure that was your plan all along.”

Her own grin faltered for a minute, her cheeks flushing before she shook her head and laughed. “You don’t know how many Ghost jokes I’ve heard over the years. I can’t believe I just made one.” She was all business again as she moved her stool in front of his and pushed the wheel out slightly to make room for their arms and legs. “Okay, let’s make magic happen, shall we?”

Heck yeah, he was ready for magic. But since he wasn’t ever going to get to the ultimate magic with her, he tried to be happy with what he did have.

With her small but strong hands over his, they threw the clay in the center and began to form it into a cone shape.

“That’s it,” she encouraged. “Can you feel how right that is?”

Sweet Lord, all he could think was that she could have been talking to him in bed while he was tasting her. He grunted a yes and let her keep manipulating his hands with hers.

She sped the wheel up with her foot, then wet both their hands one after the other so their fingers slipped and slid against each other until it was hard to tell where one started and the other ended. Just like in the sculpture she’d been working on that morning.

Keeping their left hands on the outside of the wheel, she had them press down with their right hands from the top of the clay. A few seconds later, she maneuvered their hands again so that they were pressing on either side of it to force it upward.

“We’re ready to make the opening now. We’re going to have to work together to keep our hands really still so that the hole doesn’t get all wobbly.”

Her voice sounded breathy and he could feel her heart pounding through her back against his chest where he was pressed against her.

“Start with your thumb,” she said right before she moved his right thumb into the top center of the mound, then held it steady with their left hands, “and then when you feel like we’re deep enough, you’ll use both hands to widen the opening, like this.”

Ryan couldn’t make sense of a word she said after deep enough, not with all the blood rushing from his brain and pounding south. Fortunately, Vicki was moving his hands for him on the clay and all he had to do was let himself be led by her.

“How does that all feel so far?”

“Great.”

She slowed down the wheel and backed off the pressure of their hands on the clay as she looked over her shoulder at him. “Do you want to try pulling up the sides?”

Thinking that he would barely have to move his head forward at all to kiss her, he blurted, “God, yes, I want to try it.”

Her eyes widened. “If I’d known you would be this enthusiastic about it, I wouldn’t have let you quit so soon when we were kids.”

It took him several beats to figure out what she was talking about. Finally, it hit him what he’d said...and what an idiot he must sound like. In any case, it was for the best that they hadn’t done this as teenagers, because there was no way he would have had a prayer of controlling himself back then. Even as an adult, there wasn’t much slack left on his self-control.

Before he could figure out how to backpedal from his earlier statement, she turned back to the wheel and said, “Oops, it’s going to squash in on itself if we don’t get moving. The quick and dirty is that you’re going to reach in with your left hand and pull the walls up. On three. One. Two. Three.”

He tried to let his hands go loose in hers again, but with the words—and visual of—quick and dirty playing over and over in his head, he couldn’t manage it. In under five seconds, the clay beneath their hands went from a well-formed almost-bowl to a haphazard blob.

She exclaimed in dismay at the exact moment he cursed.

And then they both started laughing, her back shaking against his chest.

“I was so sure you were going to get it this time.”

“I guess this proves I’m not that good with my hands after all,” he joked.

She laughed again at his wildly inaccurate statement and he was finally letting himself enjoy the feel of her hips against his thighs, her ponytail tickling his neck, when a figure appeared in the doorway.

Ryan felt Vicki’s entire body tense...and his own hands fisted in the clay until it seeped out grey and viscous between his fingers.

“James.” Her voice shook slightly on the man’s name, but was perfectly steady again a moment later. “I didn’t expect you to come by until later this afternoon with the rest of the board.”

“Hello, Victoria. Ryan.”

Vicki pushed the potting wheel away and stood up.

Ryan moved with her and nodded his greeting. “Hi.” He made sure the two letters came out as menacing as possible and were easily translated to read: Hurt her and I’ll find a way to hurt you back.

James focused his attention on Vicki. “Has your solo work turned into a group project?”

He was smiling, but Ryan didn’t buy it. He was about to advance on the man, but Vicki put her hand on his arm before he could get his fist any closer to the creep’s face.

“Ryan and I were just taking a little break together.” Despite how flustered he could tell she was, she sounded remarkably calm. “Is there anything you needed before this afternoon, James?”

“I wanted you to be the first to hear the good news about Anthony.”

Hearing her ex-husband’s name from the douchebag’s self-satisfied mouth had Ryan seeing red.

Blood red.

Chapter Seven

Panic—and hot on its heels, fury at the sensation—skittered up Vicki’s spine. She should have known her ex wouldn’t be able to keep out of her business.

It didn’t help, of course, that James and Anthony had been friends so many years ago. In fact, she wouldn’t be surprised to find out that James had been the one to contact Anthony, simply to try to get under her skin.

“How is he?” she asked in an easy voice as she remembered to play her part of happy girlfriend by wrapping her arms tightly around Ryan and leaning into his broad chest.

She thought she saw a flash of surprise cross James’s face at her relaxed response and was pleased she’d pulled it off.

“Very well, actually. And quite generous to do us all the favor of joining the fellowship board at such a late date.”

Vicki couldn’t stop her eyes from widening this time. Anthony had joined the fellowship board?

Ryan beat her to the punch. “Are you saying that Anthony will be voting on Vicki’s project?”

Despite the fact that James was wearing his best poker face, it was perfectly clear to Vicki just how pleased he was by this turn of events. He’d found the perfect way to punish her for turning down his advances.

“Yes, he will, along with the rest of the board. He and I were just going over the fellowship contenders’ portfolios, but of course he’s already quite familiar with yours.” He gave Vicki an understanding look. “And while it’s understood that he has a special familiarity with your skills, I have no doubt that he will be well able to judge your project on merit alone without favoring you unduly.”

Favoring her? Nothing could be further from the truth. Vicki was right at the bottom of his favorites list...and had been since long before they’d divorced.

She could feel Ryan bristling with the need to defend and protect her. She appreciated the strong friendship that was behind that urge, but just having him here with her was enough.

She wouldn’t rise to the bait, but she needed to know. “When will he be coming to San Francisco?”

“While he will be judging via photos and video, I have asked him to squeeze the awards ceremony into his very busy schedule.” James smiled at both of them. “I believe he’s making travel arrangements as we speak.”

Vicki didn’t bother smiling back. Why should she, when there was no point? Her refusal to sleep with James had lowered the lid on her coffin. Anthony’s arrival—and vote against her fellowship sculpture—would nail it down.

Still, she refused to give James the satisfaction of thinking he and her ex had broken her. Not when it was so clearly what they were after.

Pushing her rage down far enough to be civil, she said, “I know you have so many demands on your time, James,” in a soft but steely voice. “I really appreciate your taking a few moments to stop in to see me.”

It was the world’s politest dismissal. One even he couldn’t ignore.

“It was a pleasure seeing you again, Mr. Sullivan. Best of luck with your game this afternoon.”

As soon as he left, Ryan said, “They can’t do this, not when they know he was married to you. There’s no way he can judge your work with any kind of impartiality.”

“Of course they can do it. And I suspect they’re thrilled about the drama of it all—that they all feel like they’re choreographing a juicy reality show.” She narrowed her eyes. “I won’t give them that drama.”