by Amy Andrews
“Yes.” Rick’s fingers tightened on the phone. “Well, clearly that wasn’t our intent.”
“Oh, I bet it wasn’t. When were you going to tell us you and Taylor are an item again?”
“It’s …” Rick hesitated. He’d been going to say it wasn’t like that, but he honestly didn’t know what it was, other than a lot of sexual chemistry and one really spectacular night. That’s what the next few days were supposed to be about—figuring out what this thing between the two of them was, quietly, slowly.
But their cover had just been well and truly blown.
“I need some time to figure this out,” he said.
“No,” Brooke said. “You need to come home. You need to stop avoiding your real life.”
“I’m not avoiding anything, Mom.”
“Oh really? Firstly you stay in New York over these ridiculous stalker claims. And then you refuse to come back when a huge problem crops up at Forrester Creations yesterday.”
Rick heard the slim thread of his patience snap in his brain like a cracking whip. “That’s enough, Mother.” He would not sit by and let her malign Taylor over this very serious threat to her safety.
Brooke paused and Rick felt the tension ease from his shoulders.
“I don’t understand why you need to be there when she’s got a security company looking after her. Honey, you’re neglecting your work, the company needed you yesterday, in fact, it’s still floundering over this supply issue and where are you? Gallivanting around Central Park with Taylor Hayes.”
Rick sighed. He should have known his mother was just changing tack. “I’m not neglecting anything,” he said. “I can deal with whatever crops up from here.”
“Except you haven’t been.”
Rick shook his head. He was obviously getting nowhere fast. He turned around to face Taylor. She still had her back to him, her hair brushing her shoulder blades as she watched the coffee drip into the pot. “I’m hanging up now,” he said.
“But Rick, what about you and Taylor?”
Good question, he thought as he inspected the tense angles of Taylor’s back. “Taylor and I are none of anyone’s business,” he said. “Goodbye, Mom.”
The silence in the apartment was broken only by the gurgling of the coffee machine.
“She’s right, you know,” Taylor eventually said. She turned to face him. “You have been neglecting your work.”
Rick folded his arms across his chest.
Taylor folded her arms too. “You have to go back. Deal with what needs dealing with. Calm your mother down.”
Rick shook his head. “No. I’m not going anywhere until you’re safe.”
“Rick …” Taylor sighed. “I have men who are named after trucks looking out for me.”
“I know. That doesn’t mean you don’t need me too.”
She frowned at him and opened her mouth, a protest clearly forming on her lips, but it was interrupted by a loud knock on her door—so unexpected after days of having a security guy right there. Taylor’s look of apprehension said it all.
“I’ll go. Stay here,” he ordered brusquely.
He strode from the room and headed for the front door. “Who is it?”
“It’s Hummer, Sir.”
Rick pressed his eye to the peephole and saw the security guy. Mack and a detective he recognized were also there. He opened the door. “What’s going on?”
Mack smiled. “They’ve got him.”
*
Taylor looked up as all four men entered the living area. Her heart went to her mouth temporarily to see such a display of force but then she realized Rick was smiling, in fact they all were, and relief rolled through her like a cool breeze.
Her hand went to her throat. “You found him?”
The police officer nodded. “Got him trying to deliver a letter downstairs earlier this morning. We’re still questioning him but there’s no doubt he’s your stalker. His fingerprints matched the ones we pulled off the other letters.”
Taylor reached for the counter, suddenly giddy with the news. “Really?”
The police officer nodded. “Really.”
Her gaze sought Rick’s and she beamed at him. “That’s such great news.” He nodded back, walking toward her and opening his arms when he was within reach. She accepted the solace and celebration of his hug, sinking against his chest, feeling the relief wash through every cell in her body, feeling light, feeling liberated.
“For what it’s worth, he claimed he wasn’t going to hurt you. That he just wanted to spend time with you. That he’s your biggest fan.”
“That’s not what he said the night he attacked her,” Rick said.
The police officer nodded. “He’s currently denying that he attacked you. It’s quite common for perps to cop to lesser offences and deny the more serious ones. But the detectives think he’ll crack soon.”
Taylor smiled again, so grateful that it was all over. “So … I guess this means I don’t need protection any more? It’s safe to go out?”
The officer nodded. “He’s under arrest. He’ll be arraigned later this afternoon and held until his court date, which will be a few weeks away at least. We’ll keep you up to date with the progress.”
Taylor looked at Hummer and Mack. “I’m going to miss you guys.”
Hummer laughed. “I’m sure you won’t.”
She laughed too. “Well, I won’t miss having my door guarded twenty-four-seven. Nor being cooped up inside, but I will miss your professionalism and commitment. It meant a lot.”
Mack nodded. “We’ll just need to clear it with the studio and get some loose ends tied up and we’ll be out of your hair.”
“Music to my ears.” She smiled.
*
An hour later, Taylor and Rick were alone again. Truly alone.
“It feels strange,” she said.
“Good strange though, right?”
She nodded. “Good strange.”
“So.” Rick made a grab for her, snagging her around the waist and dragging her close. “Alone at last.” He nuzzled her neck and she shivered. “What now?”
His voice was deep and throaty, loaded with what sounded like a hundred bad ideas. Good bad ideas.
Taylor took a deep breath and pushed out of his arms. “You go home,” she said.
Chapter Thirteen
Rick put his hands on his hips as he took in the determined tilt of her chin. “Taylor.”
She shook her head. “There’s absolutely no reason for you to stay any more.”
With the stalker caught, Rick knew that was true. But it didn’t seem right, just walking away; leaving only an hour after her reprieve seemed exceedingly mercenary. Like he’d been impatient to go all along and just waiting for the first opportunity to get her into bed.
And nothing could be further from the truth.
“Except I haven’t finished my vacation,” he pointed out. “In fact, I haven’t really started yet. Being cooped up inside with you,” his gaze flicked to her cleavage and he grinned, “that’s been a real hardship, you know.”
Taylor made an impatient noise at the back of her throat. She didn’t look impressed by his argument or his attempt to lighten the conversation. “Quit stalling, Rick. You and I both know your vacation was totally bogus.”
Rick sighed and dragged his eyes back to her face. “Okay. Fine. What if I just don’t want to go back yet?”
“Seriously? You’re a grown up with grown-up responsibilities. You have a job, people who depend on you and family who are expecting you back. You don’t get to play hooky. This isn’t spring break, Rick. You have a duty to all of them. What you want doesn’t always come into it.”
Rick hated that she was right. He did have all those factors to consider but he’d certainly trade them all in now for some more time with Taylor. Duty warred with desire.
“Not even if it’s you I want?”
“No.”
Rick tried not to flinch at her answer or her un
compromising expression. “But what about us?”
There was a slight tightening of her jaw but it was the only sign Rick could see that she was also warring with herself. “There isn’t an us, Rick.”
Rick shook his head. No. No way. She wanted to lie to herself? Fine. She wanted to pretend there was nothing between them? Fine. But he wasn’t going to play along. She could suppress and manipulate her own feelings, put them in some neat little box, but she didn’t get to dictate how he felt.
“Well now, that’s just bullshit and you know it.”
She flinched at his vehement denial then turned away from him, heading back to the kitchen. “We both knew,” she said, her hips swinging, the ends of her hair brushing her shoulder blades, “this was never going to be anything other than temporary.”
Rick shook his head as she poured herself another coffee. “You speak for yourself.” It might seem crazy to Taylor that he’d considered their long-term prospects but he had. This had never been some roll in the hay to him.
She turned and looked at him. “Really?” she demanded. “And how did you picture this working exactly?”
He hadn’t pictured anything. He just knew he didn’t want it to be over. “Look—I don’t know, okay? I hadn’t thought about the logistics.”
Taylor gave a small laugh. “Of course you hadn’t. Because you’re not thinking above your belt.”
Rick’s jaw clenched so tight he thought it might crack in two. “I resent that comment.”
“Well, resent away,” she snapped. “But the truth is, men don’t ever think about the logistics. They only think about themselves and how good it feels to be all loved up. I mean, why worry about the details, you’ve got a secretary who’s been looking after your details for decades, right? Well, guess what? It doesn’t work that way in relationships.”
Rick had to admit Taylor made a good point. He was used to delegating the details. “So let’s spend some time together to work them out,” he said, striding into the kitchen and sitting on one of the stools. “Let’s figure them out together.”
“How, Rick?” she demanded. “With the paparazzi all over us and you needed back in LA?”
“That can all wait,” he said, dismissing the issues with a wave of his hand. This thing with Taylor, whatever it was, was bigger than all of the other stuff combined.
“No, Rick, it can’t. That’s what I’ve been trying to say. We can’t make decisions about us when there are so many other demands on you. With more and more insistent phone calls from LA, with the paparazzi dogging us wherever we go, with Brooke pitching a fit about us every two minutes—”
“My mother has nothing to do with us.”
Taylor laughed and Rick worried about how strained it sounded. “If you think that, then you are even more deluded than I thought. Brooke hates me. You think you’re not going to constantly face her censure, you think she’s not going to try and undermine me, undermine us at every turn?”
Rick figured she probably would. But he could handle his mother. “You leave my mother to me.”
Taylor shook her head. “And how do we overcome the tyranny of distance?” she asked. “Your job is in LA. Mine is in New York. And commuting is a bitch.”
Rick understood these were all valid points but they were also not insurmountable. “I don’t know,” he said. “I honestly don’t know but we’ll figure it out, Taylor. The only thing that matters is how we feel about each other. Being with you again has made me realize how much I missed you. How good we are together. How good we could be. Are you going to stand here and admit that you don’t feel anything for me?”
“No.” She shook her head and Rick’s heart dared to hope. “Of course not. You mean more to me than is healthy, I’m sure. But I gave up on complicated relationships when I left LA, Rick. I’m done with them. I just want something simple and easy for once. Is that too much to ask?”
“No,” he said, pushing off the stool and walking to her side of the kitchen, his hip bumping the counter near hers. “But we don’t always get what we want, do we?” he murmured, gazing into her face. Taylor looked so defeated he wanted to take her in his arms and never let her go.
“This isn’t getting us anywhere,” she said after a few moments.
“I know.”
“I think we need some breathing space. Go back to LA, Rick, and deal with what you have to deal with. After that, after some time apart, maybe we’ll have a clearer idea of how we feel and what we want.”
Rick’s gaze roamed over her lovely face. He understood what Taylor was trying to do: she wanted to see if separation decreased or increased his ardor. She wanted to test the hypothesis about absence making the heart grow fonder. But he didn’t need separation to know his mind. The intensity of emotion he felt right now scared the hell out of him. This wasn’t some horny-teenager-just-got-laid-for-the-first-time feeling.
But maybe she needed it? A lot had happened to them in a short period, a lot of highly emotional drama, pushing them together. She’d leaned on him more than she would have normally. Maybe she needed time to know that what she was feeling was genuine and not some hangover from having her life threatened. That it was real, not just gratitude or relief.
And yes, she was right, he really did need to get back to LA to sort out the issues that had cropped up yesterday. He had to admit, he could get things sorted much quicker if he was on site.
Maybe a breather would be good for both of them. Time to come down from the artificial high of their enforced intimacy and sift down to their real feelings.
“Okay,” he said, lowering his head, kissing her, deep and slow, wanting it to go on forever but knowing he had to stop. Knowing he had to go.
Taylor needed to set him free so he could come back.
And he would. Just as soon as he could.
Pulling out of the kiss was an exercise in control Rick never wanted to repeat again. Her moist mouth, her small whimper of loss—of need—almost undid him.
“I’ll be back,” he said. “That’s a promise.”
And Rick didn’t break his promises.
*
Two weeks later, Taylor walked to her apartment from the studio, resigned to the fact that Rick was not coming back. She knew that the supply problems that had plagued him those last twenty-four hours had been sorted within a few days of his return. She knew because he called or texted most days. Communication she looked forward to more than was good for her sanity.
But he’d made no mention of returning. I’ll be back, he’d said. He’d promised.
Except so far, nothing. Not even a mention of it. No talk about them or their future or whether he missed her or not. No soft endearments or low, sexy banter. Just everyday how-are-yous and whatcha-doin’s.
And, logically, she hadn’t expected him to rush back.
But illogically, somewhere in the depths of her achingly romantic soul, she had hoped.
Sure, he was busy, she understood that. It was to be expected after being AWOL immediately after a hugely successful Fashion Week. In fact, Rick had spent a good proportion of their brief chats telling her how snowed under he’d been since his return and it was a rare conversation that wasn’t interrupted by something needing his attention.
But his apparent indifference had surprised her. She’d expected him to be relentless in his pursuit of her from the other side of the country. She’d braced herself for it.
Their last conversation before he’d departed had left her in no doubt that he was determined to find a way for them to be together. And knowing Rick the way she did, she’d fully expected him to pull out all stops. This inaction was disquieting.
And maybe just a little bit telling.
Maybe Rick had changed his mind. He’d gone home to LA, immersed himself in the cut and thrust of high fashion, reconnected with family and friends, and realized he’d been under the influence of a vacation high. Everyone knew getting involved in a holiday romance was a recipe for disaster. She was his vacation flin
g. And he was having second thoughts.
Which was precisely why she’d sent him away in the first place. She’d wanted him to be sure. Wanted him to think things through properly, away from temptation. Understand the difficulties and appreciate the sacrifices they’d have to make.
It was good that he was throwing himself into his old life. His actual life. He’d done as she’d asked—taken a breather.
So why did it hurt so much?
Because, she finally acknowledged after a fortnight of denial as she walked along the city pavements, she’d fallen in love with Rick. She hadn’t meant to. And frankly, it was just plain nuts. How could it happen? They’d only been together for a week. But it had been an intense week.
She had fallen for Rick Forrester all over again. Seen inside him to the good and honorable man he’d become over the years. Seen his heart. Felt breathless and excited when his name appeared on her cell phone screen. Trembled at the sound of his voice.
To feel a such deep, emotional connection could only mean one thing—she loved him. It rose in her now, light and airy, and she’d never felt more miserable. Not even when she’d been cooped up inside, a prisoner in her own home.
What was she going to do now with this stupid bubble of love pushing against her diaphragm, threatening to suffocate her? Going back to LA, fighting for him, wasn’t an option. She was done fighting for Forrester men and her life was here on the East Coast now.
Of course, she’d go back eventually to visit, to see Steffy and Thomas, but she’d made herself a deal that she wouldn’t go back until the book was done. Until she’d firmly established herself as a success over here—she had her pride, after all. Although a fat lot of good it was doing her now.
A horn blared nearby, bringing her back to her surroundings. The heat on the top of her head; the aromas of exhaust fumes and warm bagels; the eclectic mix of people bustling past. She’d made a pact with herself since she’d been attacked that she’d be more alert to her surroundings. She wasn’t paranoid, she didn’t feel unsafe any more, but she had realized since the night of her attack that she could have been a lot more attentive and prepared. Maybe if she had been more alert to the stranger’s body signals, to the hostility in his eyes. She was a psychiatrist, for crying out loud, she knew all about body language.
