Sullivans 06 - Let Me Be the One

took a bite of the goulash. And then another. And then one more before saying, with his mouth full, “I can’t believe you made this.” He shoved another bite in. “It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”
    “Thanks, but we both know your mother’s straight-from-Italy spaghetti sauce is better. Just barely,” she joked, “but still better.”
    It had been years since she’d sat down at the boisterous, crowded Sullivan dinner table, but she’d never forgotten how good the food had always been. Or how much fun it had been to be surrounded by all the laughter.
    “By the way,” she said after they'd both eaten in companionable silence for a few minutes, “I was thinking more about the latest turn of events with Anthony joining the board. I really don’t think James is going to try anything again, not knowing my ex-husband will be coming in from Italy.” She put down her fork and pushed the rest of her goulash away. “You’re amazing for stepping in and pretending to be my boyfriend, but I can’t let you keep putting your real life on hold for me.”
    He was frowning at her as he said, “I’m not putting anything on hold.”
    “I heard you cancel those dates,” she reminded him.
    “If I’d known you were back in town, I would have cancelled those dates anyway.” He grabbed their plates and headed over to the sink. When she got up to help clean the pots and pans she’d used, he poured her another glass of wine. “You cooked. I’ll clean.”
    There shouldn’t have been anything sexual about what he’d just said. They were talking about dirty dishes, for God’s sake. And yet, the subtle command to relax sent a flutter of heat down deep in her belly. But even as she reached out to pull up a stool at his kitchen island, Vicki couldn’t stop herself from enjoying the picture he made—a big, strong man elbow deep in suds, even though he could easily have employed a full-time staff to cater to his every need.
    Which was why, instead of sitting down, she grabbed a clean dishtowel and started drying off the plates he’d just washed. She needed to fill her hands with cotton and porcelain and keep them too busy to accidentally fill them with Ryan’s hard muscles, instead.
    “Hey,” he said with a raised eyebrow as he watched her put the dry plate away, “I thought you were relaxing with a glass of wine?”
    “I was, and now I’m helping you clean up.”
    She pretended she didn’t see the look in his eyes that told her he wasn’t used to being ignored when he wanted a woman to do something. Would he be like that in bed, too? Would he tell her how he wanted her and expect her to behave if she wanted him to please—
    She caught his dark gaze on her and almost dropped the wine glass in her hand as she realized she’d just been caught fantasizing about him. Moving to put the glass away, she prayed he couldn’t figure out what was making her so fumble-fingered. God, she hoped he couldn’t tell how aroused she was from nothing more than drying dishes next to him at the sink.
    “I don’t want you dropping your guard around him, Vicki. Not yet. Let’s wait a few more days before we drop the high-school-sweethearts act.”
    How could she blame Ryan for being concerned about her when she was the one who’d dragged him into the situation by panicking twenty-four hours ago?
    And why did it hurt so bad when he called their act exactly what it was?
    “If it will make you feel better, I guess we could do that.”
    “It will make me feel better. A lot better.”
    Working well together, they soon had the dishes cleaned and put away and he was taking their glasses of wine into the living room. He put them side by side on the coffee table and clicked on the TV.
    “What do you want to see?”
    Two hours on the couch next to Ryan. How on earth was she going to survive that?
    “A horror movie.”
    He shot her a surprised look. “Seriously? You want to watch a horror movie?”
    “Love them.” Not really, but maybe if she was scared enough, she could forget about all the damn tingles taking over her cells one by one.
    “I thought you were into indie comedies in high school?”
    Warmth spread through her at his remembering something so small about her. He was right. She’d loved movies like Clerks and Muriel’s Wedding , and even more, the fact that the scrappy filmmakers had followed their vision and found such success. She’d hoped for even a fraction of success like that for herself one day.