by Amy Andrews
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
About Amy Andrews
Also by Amy Andrews
About Sunset Love: The Bold and the Beautiful
About Blindsided by Love: The Bold and the Beautiful
About Dangerous Love: The Bold and the Beautiful
Copyright
This book is dedicated to all the die-hard Bold fans out there. You guys are awesome!
Chapter One
“And that’s a wrap.”
Taylor Hayes smiled at the director as she pulled out her earpiece and stood. A production assistant approached and passed over her ringing cell phone.
“This is the third time it’s rung while you’ve been taping,” she said.
“Thanks,” Taylor murmured as she took the phone and swiped her thumb across the screen to answer. “Hello?” She left the television studio and headed for her dressing room.
“Taylor? It’s Rick.”
Rick? Rick Forrester? She paused in the corridor. Her mind instantly rejected the notion as a flight of fancy but deep down she knew it was him. It was the voice. She’d know that rough purr anywhere.
“Rick? This is a surprise.”
His low chuckle oozed over her like warm chocolate. “A nice one, I hope.”
Taylor smiled as she started walking again. “Of course.”
She’d been away from LA for a while, made a separate life for herself on the other side of the country. A life she enjoyed. And she’d needed to do that. But it was good to hear a familiar voice.
“I was hoping you’d agree to go out to dinner with me tonight, if you’re not already busy.”
Taylor faltered at the unexpected invitation before she opened the door to her dressing room and stepped inside. “You’re in New York?”
“For Fashion Week.”
Of course. Back in LA, her life had revolved around the fashion industry and the machinations of the Forrester Creations empire. But not any more. She vaguely remembered seeing some of the events mentioned in the New York Times but hadn’t given it a second thought.
“So? How about it?” Rick prompted.
How about it? Taylor blinked. It seemed an odd request and she didn’t think for a minute that Rick was calling to catch up and reminisce.
She sighed. “Your father asked you to check on me, didn’t he?”
There was enough of a pause for Taylor to know she was right.
“He’s worried about you, Taylor. About you being out here all alone. We all are.”
Eric was sweet to worry about her but Taylor didn’t think for one moment everyone was concerned about her. She was pretty damn sure Brooke wouldn’t give a rat’s ass.
“I’m not all alone, Rick. I’m surrounded by millions of people. Neither am I some runaway country bumpkin who’s never been to a big city before. So tell Eric I’m fine and not to worry about me.”
There was another pause. “Okay. How about just for old time’s sake, then?”
Taylor frowned. She glanced at herself in the mirror. The white bulbs softened her reflection and she liked what she saw: her long chestnut hair was glossy, her skin glowed with health and vitality and her figure was still trim.
She was a confident woman in her prime.
But there was a lot of water under the bridge where she and Rick were concerned. She’d once felt very deeply for him.
“That sounds like a good reason to decline,” she said.
“Yes. Maybe …”
Taylor sucked in a breath. She hadn’t expected him to agree with her. And yet, she couldn’t deny the mysterious pull she felt at his request. It had been a long time since she’d been to dinner with a man—been anywhere with a man for that matter. She’d spent her time in New York with her head down, working hard. Toiling away on her book and growing a TV career from a one-off guest spot on a cable channel to a regular weekly slot called Mind Matters.
She’d deliberately not socialized, wanting to establish herself here first, really ground herself, before getting distracted by her personal life. Not that there hadn’t been offers.
And mostly the solitude hadn’t bothered her. Only occasionally did she miss the company of a man. But with Rick’s voice low in her ear, reminding her of their history—of how good distractions could be—a rush of loneliness engulfed her.
“Come on,” he said, his voice lower still. “You gotta eat, right?”
Taylor’s grip tightened on the phone briefly before the loneliness swamped her good intentions. What the hell? He was right—a girl had to eat. “Okay … sure.”
“I’ll drop by your apartment tonight at seven. How does that sound?”
“Fine.”
“Text me the address.”
“Okay. See you at seven.”
Taylor looked at her reflection again as she hung up.
Rick.
Her stomach performed a funny little flip and she slid her hand onto it to quell the strange sensation.
It was only dinner.
*
Taylor’s apartment phone rang at two minutes to seven. It was Bob, one of the doormen. “A Mr. Rick Forrester is here for you, Dr. Hayes,” he said. “Shall I send him up?”
Taylor felt a moment’s panic. She didn’t want Rick in her apartment—it seemed too personal and she didn’t want to give him the wrong idea. “No, it’s fine, tell him I’m coming straight down.”
Taylor inspected herself in the mirrored wall of the elevator as it delivered her to the lobby. Rick had said “casual” in his text and she hoped her jeans and the soft, peacock-blue shirt that accentuated the color of her eyes were neither too casual or not enough. Giant gold hoops dangled from her lobes, thin gold bangles adorned her wrists and a leather jacket was slung over her arm. September in New York was warm and mild but the evenings tended to cool off quickly.
The elevator dinged as it reached the lobby and Taylor felt a nervous flutter in her belly. She checked her face over one last time, rubbing her lips together to ensure the gloss she’d daubed on them earlier had been distributed evenly before the doors opened and she departed.
Rick smiled as she walked toward him.
He reached out a hand and she slid her fingers into it. “I recognize that shirt,” he said as he leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. “I think it was our spring collection two years ago?”
Taylor laughed and her loose hair swung around her shoulders. “You have a good eye,” she said, looking down at her clothes and then at his. “Looks like I got it right with jeans?”
Rick nodded. “I hope you don’t mind. I feel like I haven’t been out of a suit in a week and I know this great little Italian joint not far from here. It’s not posh. Very Mom and Pop. Best pizza in the universe. But we can do fancy if you prefer?”
Taylor shook her head. Why would she mind? She hadn’t made much of an effort to check out the many restaurant offerings around her and Rick filled out jeans and a T-shirt to perfection. If he hadn’t been running Forrester Creations he could have definitely been a model.
“Pizza sounds good.”
“It’s about a ten-minute stroll. Are you okay to walk or shall I get Bob to hail us a cab?”
“A stroll sounds good.”
They walked out into the mild evening, the trees of Central
Park just opposite darkening now as the tangerine sky segued into the velvet of dusk. They didn’t talk much as Rick guided her to the restaurant, preferring to take in the sights and sounds around them, soaking in the atmosphere of a vibrant city winding down around them.
When they arrived at the restaurant, which happened to be below street level, they were greeted heartily by Joe, the owner, who, after introductions, hugged Rick and slapped him on the back.
“You don’t come round here much any more,” he claimed, winking at Taylor.
“I know.” Rick grimaced. “There’s never enough hours in the day.”
Joe tutted. “Busy, busy, busy. Always busy. You know what they say about all work and no play, right?” He winked at Taylor again. “Makes Rick a very dull boy.” Joe roared, laughing at his own humor. “Am I right?” he asked, nudging Taylor’s arm conspiratorially.
Taylor laughed at Joe’s obvious delight. “Very dull,” she agreed as she played along but if there was one thing she knew intimately about Rick Forrester, it was that dull was not in his vocabulary. The man was vibrant, a force to be reckoned with. Both in the field of fashion and in other, more private, areas of his life.
She blushed thinking about exactly how she knew that.
Rick grabbed his chest. “You wound me, Joe.”
“Then you must sit and eat,” Joe announced, gesturing to a nearby table laid with checked tablecloth. As they sat, he produced a candle lighter from his pocket and lit the wick on a grizzled candle that had already dripped its red wax down the sides of a Chianti bottle.
He looked at Taylor, who had opened her menu. “My Maria makes—” he paused to kiss his fingers, “—garlic bread to die for. Then I’ll bring you the house special. We’ll fatten you up. You are much too skinny.” He looked at Rick. “Why are women so skinny these days?” Without waiting for an answer, Joe relieved them of the menus and then scurried off with purpose.
“What’s the house special?” Taylor asked.
“I don’t know—it changes every night. But, trust me, it’ll be excellent. I always leave myself in Joe’s capable hands whenever I come here.”
Taylor laughed. “I can’t imagine a Forrester ever relinquishing control of anything.”
Rick shrugged. “It’s nice to be able to let go every now and then. As long as you trust the person, it can be good to put yourself in their hands for a while. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Taylor heard the octave drop in his voice as she glanced at his hands, remembering how capable they were. She stole a look at his face, his impossibly square jaw was covered in blond stubble and his cool blue eyes held hers.
She didn’t think they were talking about ordering food any more.
Taylor slowly shook her head, dragging her eyes away from the magnetic pull of his. “No. I gave up my control for far too long. I’m never doing that again.”
“Ridge,” he muttered and Taylor could tell that there was still no love lost between the two men. “You’re still in love with him?”
“No. He’ll always be a part of my life, of course, but … I’ve moved on.”
“That’s good to hear.”
Taylor was about to ask him if he’d moved on from Caroline but Joe interrupted. “A glass of red for the lady,” he said heartily as he set two glasses in front of them. “And one for the dull boy.”
“Oh no,” Rick said quickly, putting his hand across the top of the glass. “Taylor doesn’t drink.”
Taylor felt heat rise to her cheeks at Rick’s embarrassing paternalism as three nearby couples watched the spectacle. He might as well have brought her sobriety chips and thrown them down on the table. Although no one here seemed to know her, she was often recognized on the streets and she’d prefer her alcoholism not to be common knowledge.
Joe looked from one to the other. He bowed and smiled gently. “Some Pellegrino, perhaps?”
Taylor forced herself to look at him. “That would be perfect, thank you.”
“Perfecto.”
He walked away and Taylor glared at Rick.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought—”
“You thought you’d out me as an alcoholic in front of Joe and the entire restaurant?” she whispered, looking around.
Rick raked a hand through his hair and sighed. “Sorry … You’re just … making me nervous.”
Taylor frowned. “Why?” she hissed. “It’s not like it’s a date.”
Rick nodded. “I know, but you’ve changed.”
“Changed good? Or changed bad?”
Rick smiled. “Changed good. Definitely good.”
Taylor smiled back. “Good answer.”
Chapter Two
Joe deposited a basket of piping hot, aromatic bread in front of them. “Eat,” he ordered and neither of them were game to refuse.
“So,” Rick said as he swallowed his mouthful of sinfully good ciabatta smothered in olive oil, garlic and basil. “I saw your face on the back of a cab the other day.”
Taylor groaned and covered her face with her hand briefly before looking at him through her fingers. A blush crept up her neck and into her cheeks. “Sorry about that,” she said and Rick was struck by how serious her embarrassment was. “It’s a little over the top, isn’t it?”
“Not at all. I think it’s fabulous. Tell me about it.”
She dropped her hand. “About Mind Matters?”
Rick nodded. “How’d it come about?”
She shrugged and Rick watched the way her hair fell forward over her shoulder, the tips brushing the V of her shirt. He couldn’t help but notice how perfectly the blouse draped against her breasts.
Alarmed at where his thoughts were headed, he dragged his gaze back to her face. Clearly he needed to get out his little black book and start dating again. He hadn’t been with anyone since he and Caroline had split and obviously he needed to do something about that, because Taylor Hayes was a bad idea. They were only having dinner, for crying out loud. That was it. He was discharging his duty to his father and he was flying back to LA in the morning.
Period.
“It was a fluke really,” Taylor said, interrupting Rick’s tumultuous thoughts. “A psychiatrist friend of mine was supposed to be going on and providing psychological insight into a segment they were doing on serial killers, but she fell down some stairs on the way to the studio and fractured her femur. She rang me, frantic, asking me if I’d do it instead.”
Rick smiled. “That does bring new meaning to break a leg.”
Taylor laughed. “Yes.” She sipped at her mineral water. “Her bad luck was my good fortune. I apparently did very well so they started to use me regularly and when the ratings were excellent, they offered me my own segment.”
“You sound surprised.”
“Well, it certainly wasn’t what I expected when I came out here, that’s for sure. My aim was to set up in part-time practice and write a book. I didn’t expect to be on television and have my face on the backs of cabs.”
“It suits you though,” Rick said and he liked the way her cheeks pinked up a little more and the big, pleased smile she shot him. He especially liked how her smile made him feel as though he was the only man in the room. He’d felt mostly invisible during Fashion Week, like whoever he was talking to always had their eye over his shoulder waiting for someone more famous to come along. It felt good to have Taylor’s undivided attention.
Joe placed a plate oozing with red sauce and crusty with cheese in front of each of them. “Parmigana di melanzane,” he announced. “My nonna’s recipe.”
“This smells amazing, Joe,” Taylor said as she lowered her head slightly to inhale the mouth-watering steam wafting off the dish. “Your nonna must have been an excellent cook. I think, judging by all your customers, you’re a chip off the old block, yes?”
Rick watched as Joe’s chest puffed up. “But of course.” He grinned then gave a rapt Taylor a rundown of the delights before them.
Rick wasn’t disappointed when
another customer called Joe away and he shook his head at how easily the older man had fallen under the influence of the infamous Hayes charm.
“So tell me about the book,” he said as he took his first mouthful. Taylor took one too. Her appreciative moan made itself felt in parts of his body it shouldn’t have.
“This is delicious,” she sighed, shutting her eyes briefly before fluttering them open again. Framed by sooty lashes, they settled on him and she looked dreamy and satisfied.
A look he’d seen on her face before—a look he’d always enjoyed putting there.
His gaze dropped to her mouth as her tongue swiped a spot of tomato sauce lazily from the corner of her lips.
Yeah. He needed that little black book pronto.
Taylor returned her attention to him. “Sorry … what were you saying?”
Rick blinked. What had he been saying? Before she’d erased his higher function with one little flick of her tongue.
“The book,” he said as he feigned interest in his meal, desperately grappling to bring his thoughts into order. “What’s it about?”
“It’s about the psychology of loving the wrong man.”
Rick glanced up at her. If anyone knew that subject matter intimately, it was Taylor. He cleared his throat to say something but she jumped in ahead of him.
“I know, I know. You don’t have to point out how eminently qualified I am.”
Her voice was light and teasing and he was relieved she could see the irony of it all. “So, what’s it called?”
“My working title is Loving Better, Loving Well.”
“Oh. So it’s a self-help book?”
She nodded. “Yes, in a way.”
Rick grimaced. “Maybe I could get an advance copy.”
Taylor paused then slid her hand onto Rick’s. “I was so sorry to hear about you and Caroline,” she said.
He shot her a weary smile. “Thank you.”
She slid her fingers through his and gave his hand a squeeze. “I should have called when I heard but—”
“It’s okay,” he said. “I understand you were on the other side of the country, trying to start a new life.”
