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The memory of Ryder’s strong, muscled arms wrapped around her, his masculine scent filling her senses came into her mind, and she squeezed her eyes shut and let out a little scream to banish it.
Okay, maybe she had an idea of what the appeal had been, but what she really didn’t understand was why she’d given into it. It must have been the strain of playing the gracious friend to Noah’s whirlwind romance. And knowing that while he was finding his happily ever after, she was still alone.
If Davis had been more available, maybe she wouldn’t have felt so—
Davis.
Given that he’d missed the other New York gossip headlines, he might not have seen this one either. But this one was circulating much more widely, given the salaciousness of both the photo and the timing of the . . . interlude. He could actually have seen it. Oh God.
She closed her eyes, said a little prayer, and dialed her (almost) boyfriend.
“Hello, Victoria. Lovely to hear from you. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
There wasn’t a hint of anything other than pleasantness in his tone, and Vicky breathed a sigh of relief.
“No reason, just wanted to hear your voice.”
“Well, isn’t that nice? Hang on a second.” His voice was muffled as he said something to someone about files, clearly covering the phone. “Sorry about that.”
“Are you at work already?” It wasn’t even 7:30 in the morning on the West Coast.
“I wanted to get a jump on my notes before the shareholder’s meeting later today.”
“Of course.” She smiled. “Well, I won’t keep you.”
“Call you this weekend?”
“Sur—”
“Oh, wait, I’m on a working retreat through Tuesday.”
“Oh. Great. Well, have fun.”
“Mmm-hmm, you too,” he said distractedly, and the line went dead.
He hadn’t seen the photos. He was as stable and reliable as always, diligently exercising that work ethic she found so attractive. The call ought to have made her feel better, ought to have grounded her. Instead, she felt more lost than ever.
But she didn’t have any time to think about that. She had to get ready to go have lunch with Cheryl, a.k.a. the woman whose son’s engagement party she had ruined with her other son.
* * *
Ryder rolled over and stretched his arm lazily up onto his pillow. Bright sunlight streamed into his bedroom. He smiled to himself.
Vicky had kissed him. She had really kissed him.
Sure, that goddamn photographer had interrupted them, but that wasn’t the point.
He wanted to do something for her. Dinner! He would cook her dinner.
He knew whatever pictures that jackass had gotten were probably all over the internet by now and that she would be worried about it, given the timing and how private the moment had been. But really, how much did it matter in the scheme of things? She’d wanted a publicized relationship with him. She’d have it in spades now.
And he couldn’t wait to see her. To think he’d actually been annoyed at the idea of them pretending to be involved.
He laughed, feeling strangely light. Lighter than he had in years.
He wondered if she liked carbonara . . .
Chapter Twenty
