Bill held his hand out to Taylor, and she grasped it, letting him pull her into his side.
“Let me go on the record as saying Taylor Forrester is not my therapist,” Bill stated. “She is a very dear friend who has helped me through some rough times.” He glanced down at her. “A very, very dear friend,” he murmured to her.
Taylor gazed into his dark, shining eyes. He’d taken a huge risk, calling this press conference, and showing her how he was prepared to face his darkest fear: everyone knowing of his struggles.
“This is me fighting for you,” he whispered, and she was humbled by his effort.
She rested a hand on his cheek, lifted herself up and kissed him tenderly in front of friends, family and the world. If he was prepared to take this risk for her, than she was going to do the same. Walk through the fire.
She rested back on heels and faced the barrage of questions and bulbs flashing. They would face the world. Together.
*
Bill felt a tap on his shoulder and turned. The press conference was over, and the last of the reporters were packing up and leaving. Eric and Brooke were talking quietly in a corner, and Taylor was off to the side, earnestly talking to Jarrett Maxwell, her hands gesturing gracefully as she spoke.
Mike stood behind him, grinning. “Wow, you don’t do anything by halves, do you?”
Bill returned his grin. “If you’re going to do something, do it spectacularly, I say. Did you hear any of it?”
Mike nodded. “Very impressive. I’m sure it’s going to shine a spotlight on PTSD. What made you do it?”
Bill gazed over at Taylor. She was beautiful, in a cream silk dress that hugged her curves. “I tried to tell someone to do something, to hell with what everyone else thinks, and it was pointed out to me that I wasn’t prepared to do the same.” He shrugged. “So I decided to come clean. To hell with what everyone says.”
Mike chuckled. “Oh, from what I could hear in the back, everyone was talking positively. I must say, getting the hot doc to kiss you was a nice touch.”
Bill shook his head. “She ad-libbed that. It wasn’t in the script.” He wasn’t complaining, though. It had been unexpected, but it had flooded his senses with excitement. He knew how much it had cost her to kiss him. He was humbled, and he was proud. And horny—definitely horny. He’d been tight with frustration since he’d left Taylor the night before, but she’d been right. He wanted her to risk everything, but he hadn’t shown her how much he was prepared to risk along with her.
He’d had a nice long chat with Liam and Wyatt, and had discovered his apprehension about his sons’ reaction was unwarranted. They had hugged him, immediately offered him support—and had helped him organize the press conference.
Mike held up a folder. “I have that information you wanted.”
Bill’s eyebrows rose. “That was quick,” he said, accepting the folder. He flicked through the contents, and froze when a familiar name caught his eye. “You’ve got to be kidding. Is this correct?”
Mike shot him an exasperated look. “Of course it is. What’s the problem?”
Bill shook his head. “No problem, it just explains so much.” The competitor publisher responsible for so much lost business and innuendo was owned by a holding company, but Mike had managed to find the name of the man ultimately responsible.
Nick Marone.
Bill smiled. Nick Marone was an old acquaintance. The former CEO of Jackie M Designs, the one-time main competitor of Forrester Creations—until he used Pam to steal Eric’s designs and pass them off as Jackie M originals.
Oh, he was also Taylor’s ex-husband. Things just got very interesting.
He needed to act on this, starting with his New York team. He lifted the folder. “Thanks.” He slid his hand inside his jacket pocket and withdrew his check book.
Mike waved his hand. “Don’t worry. What’s a little intel between friends?”
Bill hesitated. He knew Mike needed a job, but the man was prepared to assist him without reward, all in the name of friendship.
He scribbled something on the check. “I could use a man with your—talents,” he said, and ripped off the slip and handed it to his friend. “I’d like to put your security company on retainer.”
Mike took the check and did a double take at the amount written there. “Are you serious?”
Bill nodded. “As a heart attack. I’m not an easy boss, but I’m fair.”
Mike looked at him briefly, before returning his gaze to the slip of paper he held in his hand. “I can live with that.”
Bill patted him on the arm. “Good. But you’ll need to set yourself up quickly. You can start by getting me all the information you can on this man’s activities over the last two years,” he said, and gave the folder back to Mike.
“Sure.”
Mike turned and left just as Taylor approached. She frowned, her eyes following Mike. “He looks vaguely familiar. Mike, right?”
“He’s a friend,” Bill answered.
She looked up at him, her blue eyes bright. “My goodness, that word keeps popping up, doesn’t it?”
Bill slid his arms around her narrow waist. “Yeah. I’m still trying to get used to it.” He pulled her close. “Thank you for coming today.”
“It was my pleasure.”
He kissed her, ignoring the other occupants of the room. Taylor’s arms stole around his neck, and she returned his kiss. A throat cleared behind them, and Bill reluctantly raised his head and saw Eric and Brooke. Eric’s face was inscrutable, but Brooke’s was not pleased.
“Aren’t you the slightest bit embarrassed by your behavior?” she asked coldly.
Taylor leaned back to look up at Bill “I’m not. Are you?”
His arms tightened. “Nope.”
“Oh, come on, this is hardly professional,” Brooke pointed out.
Bill nodded. “That’s right. It’s not in the least professional. It’s personal.”
Taylor smiled sweetly at Brooke. “I’m following my heart, Brooke. Surely you can understand that?”
“But—but you’re not supposed to be together,” Brooke sputtered, and Eric put a cautionary hand on her shoulder. “Think of what people will say,” she said. “First Bill’s got PTSD, and now he’s in a relationship with his therapist?”
Bill straightened and faced Brooke. “Taylor is not my therapist. She’s my friend.” He glanced down at the petite woman at his side. “Actually, she’s more than a friend,” he said softly. He lifted his gaze to meet Brooke’s again. “If you have a problem with it, deal with it. You’re going to have to get used to seeing Taylor and me together.”
“I wish you all the best,” Eric said, and Bill saw the regret in the older man’s gaze. Eric knew what he’d lost. Thankfully, Eric’s loss was his gain.
“Besides, Brooke, after all the scandal you’ve brought to Forrester Creations, you’re hardly in a position to judge,” Taylor said, quietly but firmly. “You heard the reporters—there was no negative feedback for Bill. Actually, there was a lot of praise. So I think we’re going to be okay when it comes to Forrester Creations’ reputation—or mine, for that matter.”
“Now, if you’ll excuse us, Taylor and I have plans,” Bill said, and whisked her off to the door.
“We do?”
“We most certainly do. We have some unfinished business. Have you ever heard of exposure therapy?”
Taylor frowned, curious. “Yes, I have.”
“Great. I want to try something,” he murmured.
*
“This wasn’t exactly what I thought you had in mind,” Taylor said dryly as she climbed up the stairs into the jet. Bill was gazing about, taking in all the details.
“How are you doing?” she asked him. This was a big step, coming so soon after the press conference, and she hoped he wasn’t rushing himself.
He cocked his head to the side. “I’m okay. I wasn’t sure, but—I’m okay.” He walked further into the cabin. There were a couple of seats s
et up facing each other over a table, and a lounge lining the length of the cabin on the other side. It looked a lot like his old jet, only more luxurious, if that was possible. She remembered when Thomas and Brooke were stranded on an island, and Bill had offered the use of his jet in the search. Taylor trailed her hands along the leather back of one of the seats.
“Just take it easy. If you feel anxious, we can step outside,” she reminded him. He’d suggested this exercise, climbing into a plane to see how he’d cope. It was remarkably brave of him, but she wasn’t surprised. He’d already shown her his willingness to face a challenge.
He slid into one of the seats. “Okay, do it now,” he called out to Drew, the man waiting outside on the tarmac, who climbed in and closed the door behind him.
Taylor spun around when she heard the door locks engage.
“What’s going on?” she asked, concerned, as Drew passed her silently and walked through the cabin to the cockpit.
Bill waved casually after Drew. “Oh, that. I thought I might see how I handle being inside the plane, with everything shut tight.” He grimaced. “You know, the tin can concept.”
Taylor sat down beside him. “You don’t need to rush this, Bill. Exposure therapy is meant to be done a little at a time.”
The engines started, and she gripped the armrest. “What’s happening?”
Bill reached for and clasped her hand. “I’m going to tell you the truth.” He gestured around him. “This is my new plane. I’ve been getting used to it over the last few weeks.”
Taylor gaped at him. “Really?”
“Yeah. I’ve been putting off this trip to New York, but I really have to go.” Bill shifted in his seat to face her squarely. “And I wanted to fly for the first time with you by my side.” His dark gaze held hers solemnly.
“You tricked me?” she gasped. “We’re flying to New York? Now?” The plane lurched, and she could see the airport building outside the window slowly disappear from view.
Bill nodded. “Yes. Consider it payback for tricking me into therapy.”
“But—I have patients. My practice—” She couldn’t just up and leave at the drop of a hat. The jet engines rumbled. What was Bill thinking? Did he want to trigger a flashback?
“I got Alison to talk to your secretary. She’s cleared your schedule for the next few days.”
“We’re flying to New York,” she repeated in disbelief. “Of all the autocratic, domineering, arrogant—”
He slid his hand over her cheek, and she trembled at the caress. “I wanted you with me, by my side, when I faced this particular hurdle.”
He leaned in to kiss her softly, tenderly, and she closed her eyes, surrendering to the sensations he was awakening within. Eventually he lifted his head.
“You are so special to me, Taylor. Through all of this, you’ve been that kickstart I didn’t want, you’ve been that rock of support, a true and special friend.” He rested his forehead against hers. “You understand me like nobody else can. You ground me, Taylor, and I love you for it.”
Her eyes widened. “You—you—” No. He didn’t really mean it like that. It was just a figure of speech.
“I love your doggedness, your determination—your generosity of spirit,” he whispered. “I love you.”
Something warm bloomed within her. This man, this strong, brave, frustrating man, loved her, and was prepared to fight for her, to risk everything of value to him—his reputation, his company, his family—for her. She had to be honest.
“I love you, too, Bill,” she whispered back. “I love your strength, your courage, your loyalty and love for your family—all of you, flaws and all.”
He took her lips in a hot, ardent kiss. The jet engines rumbled, and the plane trembled as it barreled down the runway. Her stomach dipped as the plane gently took off.
And Bill kept kissing her. She raised her arms to his shoulders and kissed him back, just as ardently. If there were recriminations for their association, so be it. If he was prepared to face his fears, then so was she.
She stroked the muscles in his arms and chest, and he groaned against her mouth. She arched her back against him as his hands caressed her breasts, brushing against her tight nipples.
She gasped at the sensation, and she shifted her hips against him in supplication. She was hot with need, and he strummed her body with the expertise of a maestro, awakening nerve endings that had lain long dormant.
“Wait,” she gasped, drawing back. They were in a plane. Flying. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m feeling great,” Bill answered, and kissed her neck. She closed her eyes to the sweet sensation.
“No, I mean, are you okay? Do you need to talk?”
She shuddered as he drew down the zipper of her dress. “You talk too much,” he murmured against her neck as his hands trailed across her shoulders, dragging the silken fabric of her dress with it.
He leaned back as he slid the material down her arms. She wriggled slightly to help, her fingers rising to work feverishly at the buttons of his shirt as her dress dropped to pool at her waist.
He stared at her for a moment, and her nipples tightened even further beneath her lace camisole. “You’re beautiful,” he breathed, a level of awe that was both humbling and arousing.
“Thank you,” she murmured as she finally succeeded in undoing his buttons, drawing the fabric apart. “So are you.” She glanced hungrily at the corded muscles across his chest and arms.
“Mystique?” he asked as he trailed a finger over the creamy lace camisole. She shuddered at the contact, her breasts swelling. She nodded, unable to formulate words.
“You are so talented,” he murmured. “It looks beautiful on you.” He dipped his head to kiss the swell of her breasts. “But I bet you look even more beautiful with it off.” He reached over and depressed a button on the armrest, and her seat started to recline.
She tilted her head back as he dragged the silken fabric of her dress down her body, lifting her hips to help him in his quest to remove the garment, relishing the wicked caress of silk on skin, the hot, languid kisses he pressed against her as he toured down her body.
The dress fell … somewhere. She didn’t bother to take any notice. He stroked her thighs, sighing at the sight of her lace panties, but she reared up, pressing him back, her dark curls falling down her back.
“You didn’t think I’d let you have all the fun, did you?” she whispered to him, then proceeded to kiss him hotly as she traced the taut skin of his chest. She felt his muscles tense and dip as she ran her fingernails lightly across his washboard stomach, chuckling throatily as he moaned against her mouth.
He grabbed her around her waist, lifting her over his hips so that she straddled him. He tore his lips from hers, panting. “Who knew you were such a temptress?”
She smiled wickedly, enjoying the need, the desire, she saw in his eyes. “There’s a whole lot you don’t know about me,” she whispered.
He smiled back. “I look forward to discovering all of your secrets.”
He took her lips again in a searing kiss, and she arched against him, meeting his passion with her own as they flew toward a new horizon.
Acknowledgments
Being given the opportunity to write for The Bold & The Beautiful is like being given all of your christmases at once, and with this gift comes a deep appreciation:
Thank you to Joel Naoum at Momentum and Claire Craig at Pan Macmillan for the opportunity (and for still letting me do this after I squealed at you over the phone).
Thanks to Amy Andrews, Ros Baxter and Paula Roe for the plotting conversations, mostly in code, that helped craft this story.
Thank you to the U.S. Dept of Veterans Affairs, for such comprehensive information on symptoms and treatment for PTSD.
Thank you, most importantly, to the Bell family and the B&B team, for not only the opportunity to write this book, but also for the wonderful characters and stories you’ve woven over the years that have so enthralled yo
ur viewers around the world.
About Shannon Curtis
Shannon Curtis has worked as an office admin manager, customer service rep, logistics supervisor, dangerous goods handler, event planner, “switch bitch” and betting agent.
She loved reading from an early age and decided to combine her passion for action and romance by penning a novel. Her first two books were shortlisted for Favourite Romantic Suspense for 2012 & 2013 by the Australian Romance Readers Association.
She lives in Sydney with her family and various pets, and dreams of one day having a library like the one in Beauty and the Beast (as long as she doesn't have to clean it).
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