Second Chances: The Bold and the Beautiful Page 5

  And she remembered it all now as he held her.

  She closed her eyes and drank in the sight and smells of him.

  And she was sure, really sure, that he was feeling it too. A soft moan escaped his lips and she felt his hot breath on her neck. She could feel his muscles tense in an effort to keep himself in check. She remembered the powerful sensuality that had always defined their relationship. She was sure he was remembering it too, as they sat entwined.

  Finally, she forced herself to pull away. “Rick, I—thank you.” She smiled into those dark blue eyes that seemed to burn a hole right through her. “I really needed a hug today.” She was talking too fast, trying to make light of it, trying to dismiss what had just passed between them.

  But he smiled back at her, his eyes frank and full of understanding. “Any time, Steffy.” He stood up and held out a hand to her. “Now, I have my flowers. How about if I come and help you choose yours?”

  *

  It hadn’t seemed right to blurt out what he wanted from her when she had clearly been so distressed. He’d wanted to tell her that he was sorry for all he had done. And that he wanted absolution.

  But it wasn’t until he had seen her that he had really connected with how she must be feeling today.

  He felt like a fool.

  This day wasn’t just about him. It wasn’t his place to be throwing his weight around, making demands for forgiveness. No, he needed to earn it. Steffy needed someone today. Her father was in Paris. And her mother was—well, Taylor was dealing with her own issues. He wanted to ask whether Steffy had any support today, but it was clear from the way she had collapsed on him that he was it. She was all alone, as alone as he felt right now.

  And then there was the other confusing thing: that hug, that he had truly intended as a way to offer comfort and solace, had ended up something else entirely. Or had that just been his overactive imagination, and some echo of their history? All he knew was that as he held her, he’d felt something blossom between them. The familiar scents of her: that Japanese perfume she adored; the fragrant shampoo she used on her hair. And the heady, sweet smell of her skin. It had all worked its way into his brain—and through it, shooting a message straight to his heart.

  And somewhere much lower.

  He had tried to stop himself becoming aware of her as a woman, but it had been impossible. He shook his head to clear the unwelcome thoughts. He knew now what he needed to do. If he truly wanted to change, if he truly wanted to earn her forgiveness, and make things right with Phoebe’s memory, he needed to support Steffy today.

  He smiled at her as they considered the stand of roses. “What does mademoiselle like?” He knew his French accent wasn’t bad, but she wrinkled her nose cutely.

  “These, I think,” she said, touching the soft petals of the pale yellow roses gently. “Something about them reminds me of her.”

  He nodded. “I agree.” He motioned to the older woman behind the counter and passed her a bill as she made her way over. “Can we have these, please?”

  “A perfect choice, sir,” she said, smiling at them both. “Perfect.”

  As she bustled away to wrap them up, Rick steeled himself.

  “Steffy,” he began. “I wonder if you might like to come with me to the cemetery today. I mean, I understand if Liam—”

  Steffy cut him off. “No,” she said quickly. “Liam won’t be coming with me.” She reached up again and touched the mark on the side of his face. “You aren’t the only one who said some goodbyes lately, Rick.”

  Rick cursed himself for the thrill of pleasure that raced through him at her words. No Liam. Once it would have caused him pleasure just to know that he had one over that little upstart, but now it was more than that. He was glad that he could be here, with Steffy, and give something to her, rather than take. Some comfort, some support. He knew that he understood better than Liam, perhaps better than anyone, what Steffy was going through today.

  But Steffy still wasn’t saying yes. “Why, Rick? Why do you want to come?” Her eyes were narrowed, and for the first time she seemed to remember a little of their other history, the dark past that bound them all together. Rick saw the wariness and suspicion creep into those hot blue eyes.

  “Because you need someone,” Rick said. “And I need someone too. Because today is hard for both of us. For some reason, this year is different. Let me drive you. I promise you can have all the alone time you need once we’re there. I just … I just don’t want you to be by yourself today, Steffy.”

  She smiled at him, and slipped a hand into his. He felt warm and happy as she did it.

  “I don’t want to be by myself either,” she said.

  “Good,” he said, smiling down at her. “But we have to find a home for those sketches first.” He turned and began walking toward the Forrester Creations offices.

  Steffy hesitated. “I thought—”

  “What is it? You don’t want to go into work today?”

  “No, yes, I mean—It’s just—I had wanted to give these to Thomas to work with.”

  Rick felt the usual animosity and competitiveness flare in his blood as she said it. The sketches were remarkable. He had not been exaggerating when he had said he felt they could truly reshape the way Forrester Creations approached the season.

  Then he looked at Steffy’s face. He took in the dark shadows bruising the delicate skin under her eyes. He closed his own eyes and brought the sketches to his mind. Their other-worldly colors, the inspired designs. And, most of all, Phoebe’s face.

  They belonged to Steffy. And to Phoebe. It was right that their brother should shepherd these new ideas through development.

  This was not about Rick, or his ego.

  It was time to grow up. To show that he could be bigger than his rivalry with Thomas.

  He nodded. “Great idea. Let’s go and see him together.”

  Chapter Four

  Steffy’s palms were clammy as she walked through the corridors of Forrester Creations with Rick, thinking about what Thomas would make of her designs. She hoped he would understand what she had created with the sketches, and that they would mean as much to him. This was part of what she needed to do to honor Phoebe’s memory and to carve out something new for herself.

  But what if she saw Eric?

  She had avoided her grandfather since her return. There was so much to explain, and she wasn’t sure if she could get through it without breaking down. And then, of course, he would want her to stay. She gripped the bag with the sketches carefully in her hands. Especially if he saw these. Eric Forrester was nothing if not shrewd. He would see the value of this new idea, and demand that Steffy stay to see it through.

  But Steffy knew that it was not Forrester Creations, LA, and all the madness of their family that she needed right now. She needed some time and space while she worked through the next steps. She needed Paris. She needed her father.

  And right now, she needed Rick. For some reason, he was her lifeline in this awful day.

  The world was a fuzzy bubble, the expensive art on the walls one long blur of color and glass. Rick was guiding her through the hallways carefully, one hand solicitously at her back. Steffy could feel the warm pressure there, and the heat rising from his body, even through his jacket. His presence was partly comforting, and partly disconcerting. Something about his hand at her back felt so right, and she had to keep reminding herself that he was just taking care of her; this wasn’t like it had been before. They were not together, they were just leaning on each other today. She needed someone. And it seemed perhaps he did too.

  Rick stopped her with a gentle pressure on the small of her back and Steffy realized they were outside the door of his office suite. He looked down at her, and his blue eyes were kind. “I’ve been thinking about what I said before, Steffy,” he said. “And I think you should go and see Thomas yourself. I’m not sure I’m his favorite person.”

  Steffy nodded, knowing it was true but feeling suddenly bereft.
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  “I’ll wait here,” Rick said. “Come back when you’re ready and I’ll bring the car around so we can go together.”

  Steffy was touched by his concern, and impressed that he was not insisting on coming with her to see Thomas. Like everyone else, Thomas didn’t know she was back. Steffy had begged her father not to tell anyone she was coming home, to give her some space with Liam. And then when Liam had left, she’d asked him to keep quiet as well. So Thomas would be surprised to see her. He might even be a little offended that she hadn’t contacted him. She had planned to, but after the problems with Liam, she just needed some time to herself.

  She wondered how Thomas was doing today. No doubt the anniversary would be hard for him too. She shut her eyes, wondering if he would insist on accompanying her to the cemetery.

  Everything in her rejected the idea. This day was so hard every year, but this year it was harder than normal. It was so personal. She wanted to tell Phoebe about the baby and about Liam and she didn’t have it in her to support someone else as she did. Rick had been clear that he would be there to help her. She couldn’t prop someone else up when she felt like she was falling apart herself.

  As all these thoughts did battle in her head, she felt herself sway on the spot in Rick’s doorway.

  “Steffy!” He was at her side in an instant and he had an arm around her neck and another around her waist in seconds. He picked her up as though she weighed no more than her tote bag and very gently carried her over to the large chesterfield by the window in his office. She should protest, she should complain, but as she considered the ideas, the world grew even fuzzier, and she felt blackness swim in her vision. She felt warm and safe in the cocoon of his solid arms and she wondered vaguely if she was going to pass out. The world began to tilt and go fuzzy, and her stomach turned watery. She clung to the reassuring feeling of Rick’s warm body holding her tightly.

  Rick laid her carefully on the couch, and kneeled beside her. “Steffy, listen to me.” She still felt floaty but tried to focus on his voice. “Have you eaten anything today?”

  Steffy tried to remember. Had she? “No,” she mumbled, having a hard time connecting the dots.

  Rick grunted. “Hmm. And I’m sure you didn’t get much sleep either. You’re exhausted, and so thin. And it hasn’t been very long since you—since you lost the baby. I think we need to get you a doctor.”

  At Rick’s words, Steffy’s brain clicked back into gear. “No.” She reached for his arm and grabbed a handful of starched cotton shirt. “No, Rick, please don’t. I couldn’t bear it. Not a doctor. I …” She closed her eyes, remembering all those white coats buzzing around when her heart was breaking after losing her baby. She imagined all the drama that would ensue if an ambulance was called to Forrester Creations. Everyone would know of it in moments. She didn’t need the scrutiny today.

  But Rick was already shaking his head. “No, Steffy, I want to get you looked at. You—”

  Steffy interrupted him again, shaking her head to try to clear it. “Honestly, Rick, I just need a bite to eat. Or something to drink. Maybe some orange juice?”

  “Orange juice?” Rick’s voice had become louder, and he was looking at her with irritation and something else she couldn’t quite work out. “It’s not orange juice you need. It’s rest, and food, and maybe some medical attention.”

  As he spoke, his brows drawn down in consternation, Steffy realized he was very, very worried about her. He confirmed it the next moment.

  “God, Steffy, I thought you were going to collapse a moment ago. You scared the life out of me.”

  “I’m sorry.” She smiled at him, trying hard to reassure him that it was a momentary lapse and that she was really fine. “I just … I guess I really should have eaten something this morning.”

  He frowned at her, then his face cleared as he seemed to decide something. He stood up quickly. “Okay, then. No doctors. For now.” He said the last words in a gruff voice that suggested he was reserving his judgment about whether he would call a doctor or not. “But only if you agree to lie here a little while and rest before you go to see Thomas. I’ll have Pam order you some food, and I’m choosing it. No orange juice, okay?”

  She smiled at him again. “Okay.”

  “And no complaining.”

  She raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t push your luck.”

  *

  Rick looked down at the beautiful woman on his chesterfield. The antique piece of furniture always pleased his eye. He relished its solid lines and elegant design and often stared at it when he was musing over a troubling problem, or thinking through a new course of action. It soothed him. But it had never looked as appealing as it did today, with Steffy Forrester lying on it.

  He crouched down beside her again, the urge to comfort and protect her rising in him. But he had no right to feel that. She was not his, and they both had complicated issues they were working through today.

  He reminded himself again: today he was here for her.

  He picked up a soft, loose curl and tucked it behind her ear. Her eyes fluttered open and he was momentarily caught in their sweet web.

  He felt a little guilty, like a schoolboy caught staring. “Steffy, I—”

  “Rick!” The voice from the doorway caught him off guard, and he stood quickly, putting the hand that had touched that soft curl behind his back like it had been in the proverbial cookie jar.

  Caroline had changed from her riding clothes to an elegant gray suit with a ruffled fuchsia blouse underneath. Her hair was loose and silky, swinging about her shoulders. She looked perfectly groomed but very sad. High pink spots lit both her cheeks, and her eyes were rimmed with red.

  He looked quickly over at Steffy, who was trying to pull herself up from the couch. She was very pale.

  “I came to say sorry,” Caroline said. “For this morning. For—” She motioned to his cheek, and as she did, he could almost feel the bruise throb where she had slapped him. Then she glanced at Steffy. “But I can see you’ve already moved on.”

  “Hi, Caroline,” Rick said, moving over to her and guiding her with his body out of his office. The last thing Steffy needed was to be subjected to a scene between him and Caroline. “Steffy is having a rest in my office. She—”

  “I didn’t even know she was back,” Caroline said. “I thought she was in Paris with her father. And where’s Liam? Why isn’t he here to be the knight in shining armor?”

  “It’s complicated,” Rick said, looking for the right words to shield Steffy’s secrets and manage Caroline’s sadness with minimum pain for all.

  “Oh, it always is.” Caroline pushed past Rick to where Steffy was lying on the chesterfield. “With you Forresters.”

  Rick hurried to join her, but Caroline was already standing over Steffy, who was blinking up at her in confusion.

  “I’m sorry, Caroline.” Steffy slurred. “I don’t know what I’ve—”

  “Please don’t ‘Sorry, Caroline’ me,” Caroline said, as Steffy lifted herself up on the chesterfield. Caroline blinked back tears as she stood over Steffy, and Rick could hear that she was speaking from the hurt of their conversation this morning. This was not like Caroline, and his heart ached for her as she stood over Steffy, pink-cheeked and furious. “The poor, tragic Forrester women.” Her voice broke. “Why? Why can’t you all just be happy with what you’ve got, with everything you’ve got…?” Caroline brought her hands together in a gesture of supplication. “Why do you all have to come between Rick and me? Everything would be okay, we could work things out, if only you’d leave us alone.”

  “That’s enough.” Rick grasped Caroline’s upper arm and steered her out of his office as quickly and gently as he could. It was difficult, because he didn’t feel like being gentle any more; he felt like calling security and having Caroline thrown out of his office. He knew she was hurting, he understood that, but he had tried to be as clear as possible this morning. And now Steffy was unwell, and he needed to keep Caroline’s sa
dness and growing anger away from her. He turned back to Steffy as he propelled Caroline through his door once more. “Lie down, Steffy,” he said. “I’ll be back shortly.”

  He shut the door carefully behind them, and spun Caroline toward him, still holding her arm. “Please listen, Caroline. I don’t want to hurt you. Ever. But I tried to explain this morning. I tried being careful with you. But obviously you need to hear this one way only. It is over between us. I’m happy to talk to you some more when it’s the right time.” He took a breath. “But that time is not now. Please go. And please, please, leave Steffy out of this. What happened between you and me is not about Steffy.”

  *

  The mid-afternoon sun hurt Steffy’s eyes and she slipped on a pair of oversized sunglasses she’d picked up on the Riviera. Rick was waiting back in the car. He had suggested she go first and have some time with Phoebe, and Steffy had appreciated the gesture more than she could say. She could see him from where she was standing. He had one door open as he waited, parked beneath a stand of trees, and was working on his iPad. One leg was propped up on the door, and he’d shrugged out of his jacket and removed his tie in the afternoon heat. His white shirt was open.

  The cemetery stood high on a hill, with sweeping views to Santa Monica and the ocean beyond. Trees and shrubs grew wild, and the headstones were placed in distinct areas. The Forrester family plot stood among a stand of pine trees. Phoebe would have loved it here.