She didn’t crave it so much anymore. Since her conversation with her mother and Merry on the terrace at Lyon House, the desire to prove herself to her family, to herself, had dissipated. She knew that she was a good writer, and if it took another ten years for her to sell a script, she’d keep writing because this was what she was meant to do. This was what made her happy, and writing scripts was what she was determined to stick with. She’d keep on truckin’ and one day, someday, her script would see the big screen.
It was wonderfully liberating to be free of that choking need to prove herself... She was Jaci and she was enough. And if that stupid, moron man couldn’t see that, then he was a stupid moron man.
And who was leaning on her doorbell at eleven thirty at night? What was so important that it couldn’t wait until morning?
Jaci hauled herself to her feet and walked to her door. When she pressed the intercom button and asked who was there, there was silence. Yay, now she had a creepoid pressing random doorbells. Well, they could carry on. She was going to bed, where she was determined to not think about stupid men in general and a moronic man in particular.
A hard rap had her spinning around, and she glared at her door. Frowning, she walked back to the door and looked through the peephole and gasped when she saw Ryan’s distorted face on the other side. Now he wanted to talk to her? Late at night when she was just dressed in a rugby jersey of Neil’s that she’d liberated a decade ago, fuzzy socks and crazy hair? Was he insane?
“Let me in, Jace.”
At the sound of his voice, her traitorous heart did a long, slow, happy slide from one side of her rib cage to the other. Stupid thing. “No.”
“Come on, Jaci, we need to talk.” Ryan’s voice floated under the door.
Jaci, forgetting that she looked like an extra in a vampire movie, jerked the door open and slapped her hands on her hips. She shot him a look that was hot and frustrated. “Go away. Go far, far away!”
Ryan pushed her back into her apartment, shut the door behind him and shrugged out of his leather jacket. Despite her anger, and her disappointment, Jaci noticed that Ryan looked exhausted. He had twin blue-black stripes under his eyes and he looked pale. So their time apart hadn’t been easy on him, either, she realized, and she was human enough to feel a tiny bit vindicated about that. But she also wanted to pull him into her arms, to soothe away his pain.
She loved him, and always would. Dammit.
Jaci slapped her hands across her chest. “What do you want, Ryan?”
Ryan shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and rocked on his heels. “I came to tell you that I’ve secured another source of funding for Blown Away.”
Really? Oh, goodie! Jaci realized that he couldn’t hear her sarcastic thoughts, so she glared at him again. “That’s why you’re here?”
Ryan looked confused. “Well, yeah. I thought you’d be pleased.”
Jaci brushed past him, yanked her door open and waved her arm to get him to walk out. When he didn’t, she pushed the words through her gritted teeth. “Get out.”
“The funding isn’t from Banks, it’s from...” he hesitated for a moment before shaking his head. “...someone else.”
“I don’t care if it’s from the goblins under the nearest bridge.”
“Jaci, what the hell? This is your big break. This is what you wanted.” Ryan looked utterly confused and more than a little irate. “I’ve been busting my ass to sort this out, and this is your response?”
“Did I ask you to?” Jaci demanded. “Did I ask you to roar off, ignore me for days, refuse to take my calls and keep me in the dark?”
“Look, maybe I should’ve called—”
“Maybe?” Jaci kicked the door shut with her foot and slapped her hands on his chest, attempting and failing to push him back. “Damn right you should’ve called! You don’t get to fall in and out of my life. I’m not a doll you can pick up and discard on a whim.”
“No, you’re just an enormous pain in my ass.” Ryan captured her wrists with one hand and gripped her hip with his other hand, pulling her into his rock-hard erection. “You drive me mad, you’re on my mind first thing in the morning and last thing at night and, annoyingly, pretty much any minute in between.” He dropped his mouth onto hers and slid his tongue between her lips. Jaci felt her joints melt and tried not to sink into him. He was like the worst street drug she could imagine—one hit and she was addicted all over again.