*
Bill scowled at his assistant. “Is this the best you can do?” He tossed the report onto his desk in disgust.
“I’m sorry, Bill. I don’t create the figures, I merely collate them,” protested Alison.
“You’re my assistant, Alison. Don’t you think it would have been nice to get a warning on a decline in circulation? You know, assist?” First their online forums started talking about another company’s magazines, then some of their advertisers had pulled campaigns in favor of this new company, Fashion Buzz, and now circulation was dropping. It didn’t take a genius to realize something had to change before he lost too much market share. He was top dog in the fashion publications sector, and he wasn’t planning on budging.
“But I—you—” She raised her hands in the air and stood. “Look, you have the report now. You can see the figures. Would you like me to schedule a meeting with the New York office?”
Katie and Will were in New York. He swung his chair around to stare out the window, blind to the view. That would mean flying to the Big Apple. He clenched the chair’s armrests. That would mean getting on a plane. He couldn’t do it.
But he really wanted to see his young son. He also needed to meet with his New York team. “Make it a video conference.” He’d ask Katie to bring Will over for a visit.
“Are you sure? We could also schedule some meetings with some of the advertisers there, especially some of the designer brands.”
“Video conference.” His grip tightened on the leather.
“But this would be a good opportunity to get face time with some of our accounts, possibly—”
“I said video conference. If the accounts want face time, they can video conference, too.” He whirled in his chair. “Or better yet, maybe some of the New York team could get in front of our clients themselves. Hell, that’s why we have a team in New York. So that I don’t have to do everything myself.”
Alison gaped at him for a moment, her expression pale. She nodded stiffly. “Fine. I’ll schedule the VC and forward you the details.” She crossed to his door. He noticed her raised shoulders, and bit back a sigh. She should know by now a thick skin was needed to work with him.
“Tell them I’ll want an action plan drafted for the call, and it better be a good one,” he said.
Alison opened the door and Bill saw a woman standing there, her hand raised as though to knock.
He groaned. “What the hell do you want, Taylor?”
Taylor’s deep blue eyes rounded, and he realized he’d been more terse than necessary, but jeez, this was one woman he didn’t want darkening his door.
“Uh, I just thought I’d drop in,” she said, her tone soft, almost hesitant.
“Well, you can just drop the hell out again.”
Alison brushed by her, and Bill didn’t miss the reassuring pat the woman gave Taylor’s arm. Traitor.
Taylor walked into his office and closed the door behind her. He sighed. Apart from his ex-wife Katie, Taylor was the only one who seemed to ignore his commands. In any other woman, he’d find the attribute admirable. Not Taylor, though. This woman had ruined his marriage.
“I just thought I’d say hi.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “I’d almost believe that, if we were on speaking terms. But we’re not, so say whatever the hell it is you came here to say, and then get the hell out.”
Taylor nodded, her lips pursed. Bill forced himself to look away from them. The woman had voluptuous lips. It was one of the first things he’d ever noticed about her—her deep blue eyes, her pouty lips. She had the figure and beauty that could grace one of his magazine covers. And then she’d ruined the image by speaking her mind.
He leaned back in his chair. “Why are you here?”
She walked to the chair in front of his desk and took a seat, crossing one shapely leg over the other. “I realized I hadn’t really talked to you since—”
“Since you broke up my marriage?” he interrupted, baring his teeth in a parody of a smile.
She frowned, and her lips pursed further. He forced his gaze up to her eyes.
“Actually, I was about to say since the plane crash. I—I just wanted to see how you were doing.”
He held up his hands and waggled his fingers. “I’m all in one piece, as you can see. Thanks for the visit. See you.” He pointed to the door.
“Really? You’re fine?” She leaned forward in her chair, and he noticed how the sapphire-blue silk neckline of her top draped, just a little. He told himself that in his line of work, he always noticed clothing. He also noticed she’d ignored his instruction to leave. Again.
“After everything that’s happened, you feel fine? I mean, if you wanted to talk about it …”
Bill smirked. “Trust me, Taylor. If I wanted to talk about my feelings, you’d be the last person I’d choose.”
She nodded. “Oh, I fully understand. I know, though, for instance, that you not only lost a grandchild recently, as did I,” she said, and he watched her hand gesture gracefully between them, “but you recently lost your own baby with Brooke.” He noticed her tiny wince at that mention. “And then you went through a horrific crash. I can only imagine that would leave some … emotional scars.”
He kept his expression still as he stared at her. Did she know what he was going through, now? He rose from his desk and went to the bar in his office. He kept his back to her as he poured himself a scotch, hiding his shaking fingers.
“I’m fine.” He couldn’t sleep, he had the shakes, and he was fighting a feeling of overwhelming panic. But he was fine. He would be fine.
He turned as he took a sip of the amber liquid, relishing the warmth as it spread down to his core, as though maybe that could fight the chill he constantly felt inside.
“Can I offer you a beverage?” he asked, an inner demon grabbing hold of him.
“You know I don’t drink liquor,” she answered softly, her gaze narrowed. “And I’m surprised you’re drinking now. It’s not even midday.”
“Yes, well, I know you managed to convince my ex-wife that I had a drinking problem, but I don’t. I’m totally in control. And I drink whatever I like, whenever I like.” He was in control. He strolled back over to his desk, putting some distance between himself and this woman who noticed too much. He gazed out the window.
“How often do you drink, Bill?”
The words were softly spoken, gently delivered, but he stiffened. “Well, I can still hear you, so apparently not often enough.”
A dark shape fluttering in his peripheral vision caught his attention. He turned his head and froze.
A bird.
In his mind’s eye, he saw the bird flying straight for the window. He flung up his arms to protect his head as the bird smashed into the glass, raining shards of prickling pain all over his arms and shoulders. Wind tore at him, the broken glass felt like the grasping claws of a bird of prey, and he fought against the force that was pulling him closer to the gaping hole in the building.
Chapter Two
“Bill!” Taylor cried.
Bill had dropped his glass and was covering his face with his arms. She shot out of her chair and hurried to him. Something’s wrong. She touched his shoulder, and he twisted away from her.
“Bill, tell me what’s the matter,” she urged, trying to keep calm in the face of his distress. She grabbed hold of his arm, feeling the muscles bunch beneath her touch. She tightened her grip when he tried to shake her off. “Bill, talk to me.”
She didn’t know if it was her voice or her touch, but he whipped his head up and stared at the window in front of him with wild eyes. His complexion was pale beneath the tan and the dark, neatly trimmed beard. His gaze darted from the window to her face and back again.
“Get out,” he grated, his voice rough and unsteady like rocks in a landslide.
“But, Bill—”
“I said GET OUT!” He pushed her to the door, threw it open and hustled her through. “And stay out!”
/> The door slammed in her face, and Taylor stood there, frozen with shock.
What the hell had just happened? One minute they were having a conversation, the next he looked like he was fighting off a cloud of bats.
She turned slowly and noticed Alison staring at her, her eyes wide.
“Does that sort of thing happen a lot?” Taylor asked, her voice hushed.
Alison’s gaze shifted toward the door, and then she beckoned Taylor closer. “Normally I wouldn’t say anything, because Bill’s my boss,” she said quietly, “but I’m aware you’ve had some dealings with him and although you’re probably the only person who has truly annoyed Bill and lived to tell the tale, he’s still prepared to listen to you. He’s always been a difficult man, but lately he’s become almost impossible. He’s so irritable, and explodes so often.” She grimaced. “Well, more often than usual. I’ve never seen him like this, Taylor. Please, you can’t tell him I’ve told you this. He’ll fire me.”
Taylor frowned. “Bill needs help. Why does he want to keep it so secret?”
Alison sighed. “Shortly after the plane crash, a new competitor came into the market. They used his experience to plant stories that questioned his ability to continue running Spencer Publications.”
Taylor nodded. “I saw some of those stories. I ignored them, though. Anyone who knows Bill will know they’re all fiction.”
“That’s the problem, though. Those articles were syndicated. They’ve caused some … instability, shall we say? If word got out that Bill was …” Her voice trailed off.
“That Bill was what? I still don’t understand what is going on.”
“Neither do we. So both Liam and I are hoping you’ll be able to figure it out.”
Taylor glanced back at the door. How could she figure out what was going on with Bill if the man refused to talk to her?
*
Bill braced his back against the door and slid down to the floor. No, no, no. He clutched his hands to his head. He took a deep, dragging breath in an effort to calm his galloping heart. He had to get a grip. He wiped his trembling hands on his black jeans, then placed his head in his hands again. God, what a mess. And Taylor—what must Taylor think of him after seeing that?
He hated losing control. He hated what he was turning into. No wonder his stock was plummeting and his business was drowning.
He had to get back to normal. His sons Liam and Wyatt needed him to lead the company. Katie may have moved to New York with their son, Will, but he was still that little boy’s father. He had to get past this, for the three most important men in his world.
His stomach muscles tightened, as though someone was wringing him like a wet towel. He had to hide it from them.
Nobody could know he was slowly going insane.
*
Taylor followed the maître d’ as he guided her between the tables to the bar. Her table wasn’t quite ready, but it wouldn’t be long. She smiled her thanks as she took the seat he offered, and then looked up as the barman approached.
“Soda water, please,” she said. The maître d’ left her and she settled herself comfortably. The background piano music at Il Giardino was always soothing, and she relaxed her shoulders. The low conversation flowed around her, along with the occasional clink of cutlery against tableware. Yes, she might be lonely, but she wasn’t alone. Tonight she’d felt the need to get out of her silent home and surround herself with people.
Sometimes the silence got to her. She missed having her children at home, but at some point, one’s children had to spread their wings and fly the nest. She smiled at the barman when he set her drink down on a coaster in front of her. She toyed with the straw. Her home used to be filled with love and laughter. Her thoughts wandered to Eric, as they often did. What was he doing now? And with whom? She missed him. She sighed. Things had felt so right between them, and then Brooke had happened, and after Brooke, now there was Quinn Fuller—but it was Brooke’s lack of morality that had set the tiny cracks in her and Eric’s relationship, finally resulting in a chasm that couldn’t be crossed.
“Why the long face?”
The deep voice shook her from her reverie, and she glanced at the mirror behind the bar, her eyes widening as she recognized the man two barstools down from her, his chiseled features framed by a dark beard.
Bill Spencer’s gaze met hers, his expression inscrutable.
“Bill. I didn’t expect to see you here,” she said as she turned to face him. His lips twisted as he finished the amber liquid in his glass. She assumed it was yet another scotch. She idly wondered how many he’d had.
“Yes, well, I wasn’t expecting to see you here, either,” he remarked. He gestured to the barman for a refill.
“How are you?” she asked, then sipped her drink, trying to wet her suddenly dry throat. He’d thrown her out of his office, literally. Now they were quietly chatting. She supposed he couldn’t very well throw her out of the restaurant.
Bill hesitated. “I’m fine,” he answered quietly. He glanced at her, then back at the bar. “Uh, listen, about this morning …”
“Oh, don’t worry about it,” she said hurriedly. Despite having several appointments over the course of the afternoon, Bill and his behavior had rarely left her thoughts. Normally she was all for talking an issue out, but this was Bill Spencer. Talking a problem out would be like rolling around in a pile of broken glass.
“No, I have to apologize,” he said gruffly. “Then maybe you’ll stop looking for the exit.”
Goodness, was she that obvious?
He held up his hands. “I didn’t mean to get rough with you, today, Taylor. It wasn’t—nice of me.”
“You’re not normally nice, Bill,” she said, then wished she’d kept her mouth shut. Bill wasn’t the only one with the habit of speaking with a cutting directness.
Bill laughed softly. “I guess I deserved that. I am sorry, though, Taylor.” He met her gaze, and she realized his sentiment was sincere. He really was trying to apologize.
“I guess, after everything we’ve been through, I’m lucky I escaped with just a push through the door,” she said dryly.
“Oh, you mean when you wrecked my marriage?” he said, and although there was humor in his expression, she could see the serious glint in his eye—and it wasn’t the first time he’d blamed her for his destroyed marriage. Well, two could play at that game, they had enough history.
“Sleeping with your sister-in-law had nothing to do with me,” she pointed out. “That’s what ended your marriage, not my talking about it. You’re shooting the messenger.”
He gazed at her for a moment, before slowly inclining his head. “You may have a point. You didn’t have to tell Katie, though.”
“Your wife was my patient, as well as my friend. I couldn’t lie to her about it.” Bill straightened in his seat, and she held up a hand. “But I realize my announcement caused both of you pain, as well as Brooke, and I regret that. There were better ways of dealing with it, I’ll admit. Some of the consequences were unexpected, and definitely not intended.” His marriage had ended, and so had her relationship with Eric. They’d all lost.
Bill hesitated, then reached for his refreshed glass. “Truce?” he suggested, lifting the glass.
Taylor nodded, lifting her own. “Truce.” She took a sip, watching as Bill did the same. Okay, so Bill had changed. This was the most approachable she’d ever seen him. He seemed almost reasonable. Something was definitely wrong.
“Dr. Hayes, your table is ready.” The maître d’ gestured toward a table.
“Thank you,” she said, and clutched her purse. She slid from the stool, and Bill raised his glass again in farewell before turning back to the bar.
She hesitated. She wasn’t sure what made her do it. Maybe it was the fact that he was drinking alone, or the slight downward movement of his shoulders as he turned away, or the clouded, almost haunted look in his eyes, but she tapped Bill on the shoulder.
“Are you meeting with
anyone?”
Bill frowned. “No.”
“Would you—” she took a deep breath, “—would you care to join me for dinner?”
Bill glanced at the table, then back at her. His gaze swept over her, and she felt as though he was trying to see past her layers. Not in a creepy way, more as though he was looking for an ulterior motive. He finally nodded.
“Sure. Why not?”
The maître d’ smiled. “Wonderful. We’ll set another place.”
When they were both settled, Taylor looked up from her menu to find Bill staring at her.
“What?”
“How do you do it?” He looked genuinely stumped.
“Do what?”
“This morning I was throwing you out of my office, and now I’m your dinner date.”
Taylor swallowed. Date? She hadn’t thought of it that way. She casually flicked a swathe of dark hair over her shoulder in a hidden effort to fan herself. She was having dinner with Bill Spencer. He had a point, though. She smiled. “You’re right. It has been an unusual day.”
The waiter took their order and their menus. Great, now she had nothing to hide behind.
“So, tell me. How is life for the great Dr. Hayes these days?” There was a glint in Bill’s eyes, and she wasn’t sure if it was mischief or genuine interest.
“It’s … different,” she said, deciding to respond to the latter. “I’m not involved with Forrester Creations any more. I was so happy with Eric, but when everything started to get so …” She cast around for a word.
“Tough?”
She frowned. “No. I can handle tough. I just found that place—toxic. I would do anything to protect my family, Bill, but I’m not going to argue day in and day out over petty little power plays. Eric and I had our—differences, I guess you could say. It was best we put some distance between us.”
“So that’s why you left, huh? Because Eric didn’t like what you did.”
Taylor smiled smoothly. He was referring to the moment she’d revealed his affair at Brooke’s birthday party. It was so long ago—she didn’t let it bother her now. No, she was over it. Beyond it. She’d heard it all before: Eric had left her, not the other way around. She was a home wrecker, and Eric was both disappointed and appalled. She’d run away from Eric because she was ashamed by what she’d done. Brooke had finally won. All of those phrases had been bandied about in one form or another. Her credibility had been challenged, and she could have survived it, could have proven them wrong. But Eric … well, never mind. She had moved on.
Collision Course: The Bold and the Beautiful Page 2