Collision Course: The Bold and the Beautiful

by Shannon Curtis

  “I decided to channel my energies into more rewarding avenues,” she finished calmly.

  “You ran.”

  She rolled her eyes. He was so … brusque. So self-assured.

  “No, Bill. I chose something else. I chose to focus solely on helping people.” It was as simple as that.

  Bill leaned back in his chair. “See, I don’t get it. You sit and listen to people whine and moan all day. Why would anybody choose that?”

  Taylor considered him for a moment. Was that really what he thought she did? She shook her head slowly. “Well, I guess as a man of action it must seem unusual,” she murmured.

  “Frankly, yes. I couldn’t think of anything worse.”

  How could she make him understand? He had an attitude similar to Brooke’s, and look how that had affected her. Taylor was tired of the prejudice she faced from those around her. She leaned forward. “When you have an issue in the business, I’m sure you look for a solution, right?”

  He nodded, regarding her with an amused expression, as though waiting for the punch line.

  “Well, my ‘business’ is people. Just as you get great satisfaction out of the latest acquisition or venture, I get just as much from helping people overcome their issues.”

  He stared at her, his gaze intent.

  Well, at least he wasn’t laughing at her. Or deriding her, like Brooke had.

  “Each to their own,” he said finally, shrugging.

  A waiter bearing a number of steaming dishes passed just as a man from a neighboring table pushed his seat out. The waiter tripped on the leg of the chair and went down, the sound of crashing crockery almost deafening.

  Taylor cringed. Oh, dear. The poor waiter was wearing most of the food. She glanced at Bill to comment and halted.

  His complexion had turned pale, and his eyes wore a glazed and vacant look. His hands were fisted on the table, his shoulders tense, and his whole body quivered.

  “Bill,” she said, her voice low and even. “Bill, can you hear me?”

  Chapter Three

  Glass splintered and flew toward him. Wind, freezing and ferocious, whipped about him, grasping at him. The ground dropped away from under his feet. He was falling, flailing. Papers flew around his head. His heart pounded. He tried to yell, to cry out for help, but he couldn’t get the air into his lungs. Blinded, he tried to grab at something, anything. The noise—it was deafening, a high-pitched whining roar that seemed to get louder and louder, spurring his speeding heart on.

  “Bill!” A warm, sensual fragrance distracted him. A cool hand pressed against his cheek, sucking him out of the moment, and he was back.

  “Bill, are you all right?”

  Taylor.

  She knelt by his chair, her hand pressed to his face. He stared into her eyes for a moment, deep blue pools that gazed right back with care and concern.

  “It’s okay,” she said to him quietly, earnestly. “It’s okay.” Her dark hair stirred over her shoulder, and he realized he was panting, as though he’d just completed one of the double black diamond trails at Aspen.

  He took a deep breath, swallowed. With some effort, he finally managed to unclench his fists. Sweat rolled down the side of his face and neck. He glanced around. Where the hell was he? It took him a moment to get his bearings. Il Giardino. Dinner with Taylor.

  The people at the next table were staring at him as though he’d grown two heads. He could hear the tinkle of glass behind him, and turned slightly.

  A waiter was trying to clean up some broken dishes.

  His shoulders dropped. Broken dishes. That’s all. He swallowed again and finally brought his gaze back to Taylor. She still knelt by his side.

  “Talk to me, Bill. What’s going on?” Her voice was husky, smooth, and it slid over him like velvet, soothing his jangled nerves.

  He blinked. He couldn’t. He couldn’t tell her. How could she understand? He didn’t understand what he was going through, how could anyone else? And what would she think of him? What would others think of him? He’d be weak, and Spencers were many things, but never weak. He couldn’t diminish the Spencer name. No, he’d take care of it.

  “I have to go,” he said gruffly, throwing his napkin on the table.

  Taylor rose as he left the seat, her expression serious. She placed her hand on his arm, halting him. “Please, talk to me Bill.”

  He clenched his teeth. He wanted to yell, to snarl. He breathed through his nose, and her scent curled inside him, teasing and tempting. It was surprising; he would have thought she would wear something sweet and floral, but this was dark and sensual, with hints of vanilla and musk, oriental and mysterious. He realized he didn’t want to snarl anymore.

  “Let me help you,” Taylor said, her blue eyes pleading. Her cheeks bore a faint blush, and she still wore the same sexy top he’d seen her in earlier that day. His body tightened.

  “I don’t want your help,” he muttered. He shook her hand off and stalked away. He ignored the stares of the people he passed.

  No, he didn’t want Taylor’s help. He didn’t want her to pity him, or for her to see him as weak or vulnerable. She knew him too well. His son had married her daughter. She was too close, she’d see too much. Of all people, he didn’t want Taylor to see his failings.

  He wasn’t going to try convincing himself her opinion didn’t matter. He wasn’t in the habit of lying to himself. Her opinion did matter.

  Right now, though, he just wanted to be left alone.

  *

  Taylor sank into her seat and watched Bill’s tall form stride away. He towered over the diners, his movements smooth despite the tension she could see in his broad shoulders. He looked like a hawk flying low over prey, with his black jacket and jeans. A corporate rebel trapped in a mental prison. She reached into her purse and drew out her cell phone, tapping a number into the keypad. Her call was answered almost immediately.

  “Hi, Taylor. How did it go?” Had Liam been waiting for her call?

  “I think you’re right,” she said. “There is something going on with your father. I think I know what the problem might be, but I’m going to need your help.”

  “Sure.”

  “I need to talk to a colleague, and I’ll call you back with the details.”

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  “Oh, and Liam? Your father isn’t prepared to talk just yet. This may involve some—creative handling.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Taylor bit her lip. “We might need to lie.”

  “You want me to lie to my father? Trick him into something we both know he’d hate, and he’ll make our lives hell once he finds out?”

  She grimaced. “Yes.”

  “In a heartbeat.”

  *

  Bill lowered his sunglasses, noticing the slight tremor in his hands as he peered out the tinted window. “Are you sure this is the right place?” he asked his driver.

  “Yes, sir. This is the address.”

  Bill frowned. What the hell was Liam thinking? His son had insisted he come out and view a new online application that was still in its development phase. Liam believed it would revolutionize digital publishing, and that Spencer Publications should invest and then become one of the flagship users. As their new competitor was slowly chipping away at their market share, Bill had reluctantly agreed that Spencer Publications had to offer something different, something innovative, to claw back the lost audience, and more.

  Bill donned his sunglasses and climbed out of the vehicle. He’d wanted to see the demo in his office, but Liam had said it was still undergoing initial design and testing, and it would have to be viewed at the designer’s office in Culver City. He buttoned his jacket as he crossed the plaza and climbed the steps to the office building. He took the time to calm himself. He hated going anywhere at the moment. Hated sitting in something that moved faster than he could walk. The irony didn’t escape him. When he’d hit Brooke’s car, it had set in motion events that had ultimately led to
his marriage breakup, yet he hadn’t faced any problems with getting back behind the wheel. The ripple effect from that car accident now seemed insignificant, though, when compared to the problems he now faced.

  Things were beginning to slide at work. He spent most of his time at the office, but didn’t seem to be getting much done. It was hard to focus, to stay on task. He felt like everything was slipping away. William Spencer Snr must be turning in his grave. Liam and Wyatt hadn’t said anything, but he knew his sons were worried about him. His lips twisted and he shook his head. He couldn’t tell them what was happening. He didn’t want to see pity in his sons’ eyes—or worse.

  He checked the address in his notes. Third floor. He eyed the elevator. Another tin coffin. He strode past the bank of elevators and took the stairs to the third floor. Get this over and done with, and get back to the office. He just had to smile and nod. Or frown and shake his head. Whatever. Liam already had a good understanding of the project, it wasn’t like Bill had to offer a review.

  He entered the office and approached the receptionist. “I’m here to see Ethan Snow,” he said as she looked up. She was an attractive woman, well groomed. Bill glanced about the reception area. For a tech startup, their offices were stylishly and expensively decorated.

  The woman smiled and indicated the door. “Just in time. They’re about to start. Second door on the left,” she said.

  Bill frowned. About to start? He wasn’t used to anything starting before he arrived. If Spencer Publications was going to invest in this company, they would have to learn that nothing started until Bill Spencer arrived. He didn’t have the time to play catch up.

  He opened the door and halted. A small number of chairs and couches were arranged in a circle, and a coffee station was set up on a table along one wall. There were several people in the room; a few of them wore military fatigues. Bill’s frown deepened. None of them were his son.

  A movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention, and he turned. A woman had been speaking to a gray-haired man, and was now approaching him. She wore gray pants and a deep emerald-green silk blouse that looked professional, yet incredibly sexy at the same time. Perhaps it was the surprise of seeing her in a place he hadn’t expected. Briefly distracted by the petite woman’s warm smile, it took him a moment to register who it was—Taylor Forrester.

  But—where was Liam?

  “Bill, I’m glad you’re here. I want you to meet someone,” Taylor said, and alarm bells started to ring in his head, especially when he realized that despite her calm exterior, the shadow in her blue eyes gave away her tension. Taylor was nervous. She hid it well, but he was well practiced in assessing the competition. He’d learned through hard experience that there was always more to this woman than met the eye.

  She turned to the gray-haired man behind her. “This is Dr. Ethan Snow, he’s a colleague of mine.”

  Bill’s gaze narrowed, and he glanced around the room again. People were starting to take their seats, and realization hit. Snow wasn’t a software developer—he was a shrink. Rage bubbled in his gut as he glared at the beautiful woman in front of him. She’d set him up. Hell, his own son had set him up. Betrayal, hot and sharp, speared his gut.

  “You’ve gone too far once again, Taylor,” he said, keeping his tone quiet. “Leave me alone.”

  He turned and left the office. They’d set him up. They’d played him like a dunce.

  “No, Bill, wait.”

  He ignored the plea. They thought he needed a shrink. It had to be one of the most humiliating moments of his life. Tricked into a shrink’s office.

  “Bill, please, wait.”

  Something tugged at his arm, and he shook it off carelessly. Did his sons think he was crazy? Did everyone think he was crazy? Humiliation fueled his anger.

  “Bill, stop.” Taylor jogged around him until she was facing him and he was forced to stop. Either that, or mow her down. She held her hands up, and her chest rose and fell under the silk blouse. He refused to be distracted, despite the temptation. “Please, let me explain.”

  “No. You manipulated me. You got my son to lie to me. We no longer talk.” He tried to step around her, but she dodged, forcing him to halt. “Get out of my way.”

  She lifted her chin. “No. Not until you’ve listened to me.”

  Bill looked at her, from the top of her pretty dark head to her dainty shoes. She was tiny. Curves in all the right places, but he towered over her. Did she really think she could stop him?

  “I’m leaving, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll get out of my way. I don’t like being manipulated.”

  “I’m sorry for that,” she said quickly, and matched his step when he tried to walk past her. The door to the reception area was only a few feet behind her. “It’s the only way I could think of to get you here.”

  He bared his teeth at her in a feral smile he used to good effect in corporate negotiations.

  “I don’t waste time with pointless games of cat and mouse.”

  Nobody played Bill Spencer for a fool, not even the good Dr. Hayes.

  She dodged again, and he made a rough sound of impatience at the back of his throat. He grasped her by the waist, picked her up and deposited her behind him, then reached for the doorknob.

  “You’re drinking,” she blurted, and he gave a soft laugh.

  “You managed to convince Katie that I might have a drinking problem, but you were wrong then, and you’re wrong now. Give it a rest.” He turned the knob.

  “You drink because you can’t sleep, you have nightmares,” she said in a rush, and he froze. “Every time you shut your eyes, you’re seeing the same thing over and over again. But now it’s not just a nightmare, it’s creeping into your waking hours, too.”

  He glanced over his shoulder. Taylor’s complexion was pale, but her eyes were bright, her chin set with determination.

  “You can’t concentrate at work, but you don’t want to go home. You want to be surrounded by people, but not have to actually deal with them. Sometimes you feel your heart is racing, and you want to run. You get angry a lot, but most of the time you’re numb. Nothing is happening the way it should, nothing is going your way—and nobody around you understands. But most of all, you’re afraid that you might be losing your mind, and you don’t want anyone to know. Am I right?”

  Bill let go of the knob. He leaned back against the door, staring at the woman who knew. She knew. His shoulders sagged, and he dragged a hand over his face.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, as one last salvo to protect his dignity, his name.

  Taylor stepped closer to him. “If you start to feel something, you have another drink so you can go back to feeling numb. Don’t you see? I’ve been there. I know what that feels like. I carried a son that wasn’t mine, and then couldn’t bond with him … I crawled inside the bottle, Bill. I know what that kind of mental hell feels like. I know the desperation and the loneliness that goes hand in hand with that behavior—and I can see it happening with you. Admitting you need help doesn’t make you weak.” She bit her lip. “You saw the people in there,” she said, gesturing to the door behind her. “Did they seem weak to you?”

  He remembered seeing both men and women in military clothing and a woman in a suit; people who seemed to know their own power.

  “There are people in there who have fought for our country, and who have faced great personal sacrifice. You think they’re weak for being in there?”

  Bill frowned. “No, of course not.” He had the deepest respect for those who fought in the service.

  “They are in there, waiting for you. They’re prepared to share their personal stories with you. Are you going to insult them by walking away?”

  He glared at her. “That’s not fair. You set this up.”

  Taylor glared right back at him. “Your sons are worried about you. Your assistant is worried about you. I’m worried about you, but you won’t listen to any of us. So maybe you’ll
listen to them.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t do warm and fuzzy talks, or soul-baring, or hand-holding.” He’d rather join his father rolling around in that grave. Touchy-feely stuff was for wimps.

  Taylor arched an eyebrow. “We don’t want you to bare your soul, or hold hands, but I think you’ll want to hear what these people have to say.” She reached up and placed her hand against his cheek, and he was surprised by the cool comfort he received from her touch. “It’s okay, Bill. What you are experiencing is normal.”

  He blinked. It wasn’t normal. It was hell. Losing control—losing his mind. He didn’t want this to be his new normal. He didn’t want any of it. He shook his head. “No.”

  She lowered her hand and grasped his arm. “Come back inside. All I ask is that you listen. You don’t have to talk. You don’t have to do anything warm or fuzzy. Just … listen.”

  She tugged gently on his arm. He resisted, just for a moment, before reluctantly moving away from the door. She slid her hand down his arm to grasp his.

  His fingers tightened around hers as he let her drag him back inside.

  Chapter Four

  Bill sat casually in his chair, glancing around the group. Dr. Snow had briefly introduced himself, and then begun.

  He pursed his lips. He was sitting in a therapy session. What the hell was he doing here? He eyed Taylor across the room. It was all her fault. She’d manipulated him. Ordinarily he’d admire someone who achieved that, before annihilating them. He didn’t know what he was going to do about Taylor, but she was going to pay for her actions. Somehow.