Blindsided by Love: The Bold and the Beautiful

by Hilary Rose

  “Enjoy it? If I know my son at all, I bet he fell head over heels in love with you during all this expanding of your horizons.”

  Eric was clearly joking, but Caroline’s heart banged in her chest. She asked herself if Eric could sense what had happened in the limo, how she and Ridge had kissed, how he’d said he’d been wanting to kiss her, how her body was still feeling the ripples of pleasure whenever she replayed those kisses in her mind. “What makes you say that?”

  Eric smiled knowingly. “Why wouldn’t he fall for you? Rick did. He told me he gave you an engagement ring, by the way.”

  “Yes, at Brooke’s the other night, a beautiful ring. To say I was surprised is putting it mildly. He and I have mended fences over the past few weeks and I’m grateful for that, but it’s just not going to happen for us this time. Too much baggage between us, I guess. I was planning to make it clear to him in case there was any misunderstanding—after the fundraiser. I don’t want you to worry about the event for Stephanie, Eric. It’ll be a display of Forrester family harmony. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll have a heart-to-heart talk with Rick after it’s over and that’ll be that. I’m sorry for both of us.”

  “He’ll be sorry too.” Eric narrowed his eyes at her. “But is the baggage between you the real reason it’s not going to work out? Or maybe I wasn’t so far off the mark when I made the crack about Ridge falling for you?” He cocked his head, his tone becoming serious. “Are my two sons about to do battle over you?”

  She lowered her gaze, suddenly shy in front of the man who had been her father-in-law, the man who would be her father-in-law again if she and his oldest son ever—“Let’s just say I’ve come to see an entirely different side of Ridge.”

  “Would you care to elaborate?”

  Maybe it was Eric’s kind, gentle tone or the fact that he’d always been so good to Caroline, or maybe it was that she missed her best friend Gigi and had no one else in whom she could truly confide, but either way she was ready to burst. “I—I think I’m in love with Ridge.”

  Eric inhaled deeply as he processed her news. “‘Love’ is a powerful word.”

  “I know, I know. It’s crazy, right? He’s older than I am. He was in love with Brooke forever and then with Katie. He’s only been in my life on a daily basis for a couple of months. But if I’m really honest with myself, maybe there was something there even before I came back to LA. Why else would I have been walking around New York stewing over him, holding a grudge against him for taking away Rick’s presidency? I spent way too much emotional energy on a man I supposedly hated. And then when I saw him at that party, out of the blue …”

  Eric looked baffled. “Maybe you should back up and start from the beginning.”

  Caroline took a deep breath and let her feelings come gushing forth. She admitted to Eric how much she’d resented Ridge after her divorce, blaming his humiliation of Rick for the affair with Maya. She told him how she ran into him at Luc’s opening and then how she’d stood up to him that first day back in his office after he’d criticized every word out of her mouth. She recounted how well they’d collaborated on his designs, how he’d asked about her life, her goals, her interests; how he’d prodded her to seek new experiences, how they’d shared some of those experiences together; how they’d kissed, how Ridge had said he’d been longing to kiss her. Yes, she even told him that.

  He listened with rapt attention to all of it without passing judgment—without saying a word, in fact—and it was only at the end of her narrative, after she stopped to collect her thoughts, that he said simply, “You do realize this could get complicated.”

  “Maybe,” she acknowledged. “And maybe not. I could be delusional about Ridge’s interest in me, which would make my interest in him a moot point and Rick would never need to know about it.”

  “That’s not what I meant by complicated, although I do worry about stirring up my sons’ already overheated rivalry.” Eric sighed, his brows furrowed with concern. “I was actually thinking about Ridge’s eyesight. The specialist on the case believes the blindness will recede completely, but in the meantime are you prepared to have a life with a man who’ll be depending on you for even the most basic tasks? You’re a tough, capable young woman, but it’s one thing to collaborate on fashion designs and quite another to be the caretaker for the one you love. I know. I’ve been there.”

  “I don’t run away from challenges, even one with that kind of responsibility,” Caroline said, straightening her posture to emphasize the strength of her convictions. “I’ve never told anyone at Forrester Creations about this, not even Rick, but as part of my work with my foundation on behalf of cancer research, I met a man I became very close to. His name was Terry Jarvis and he was the head of marketing for one of the big record companies. I fell in love with him, Eric. He was handsome and smart and funny, and he had brain cancer. And because his tumor was located in the occipital lobe, he lost his sight after we met. Did his blindness stop me from caring about him? Did I care about him because I felt sorry for him? Did I ever once think of him as a burden, even though he was no longer the hot guy who swept me off my feet? No, no and no. Ridge is hardly dying of a terminal illness, so the only comparison I’m making between him and Terry is that if I say I’m ready to be his eyes, be his light, I mean it. I’ve done it.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss, of course, and I appreciate your sharing something so personal with me, but sometimes it’s not up to us,” he said, gazing at Stephanie’s portrait. “Sometimes they don’t want us to make sacrifices for them. It’s possible that Ridge takes after his mother in that respect. He’s a proud man. He may not want to be your ‘challenge,’ Caroline.”

  “Then I’ll just have to convince him otherwise,” she said resolutely.

  *

  “I thought we were going dancing,” said Caroline when she arrived at Ridge’s house that evening and found him upstairs in his bedroom napping instead of waiting by the front door for her limo. It was their last opportunity for another field trip before the fundraiser, and she’d gotten them tickets to a Hollywood Hills blues club with a band and a dance floor.

  “Could we have a raincheck?” he asked, his voice husky with the vestiges of a sound sleep, his hair askew across the pillows of his king-sized bed. He was wearing blue jeans with holes at the knees and a yellow T-shirt emblazoned with the logo of RJ’s soccer team, and he looked like a little boy, albeit it one with a beard. “Must be all the pre-fundraiser stuff at the office. Just knocked me out.”

  “Is it your eyes?” Caroline asked gently from the threshold. “Are you in pain, Ridge?”

  “No more than usual, no,” he said. “Just beat.”

  Caroline stepped further into the bedroom, its lights dimmed, its drapes drawn, and took a peek at her surroundings. She’d never been granted entry before and it was the essence of Ridge Forrester: rugged and masculine. The color palette was gray, black and white—muted and modern—and there was a fireplace off in a cozy corner and an animal print rug on the hardwood floor. Beyond was a sumptuous master bathroom as large as most people’s living rooms, also in shades of gray, black and white.

  He could use a woman’s touch, Caroline thought with smile. Nothing too frou-frou, but some flowers here and there, a cashmere throw and maybe some pink. Yes, definitely some pink.

  “Well,” she said cheerfully. “If you aren’t up to the dancing, then the dancing will have to come to you.”

  She searched the room for his audio equipment, knowing he’d have the latest electronic gear. Inside a built-in cabinet that matched the bed’s headboard, she found an iPod dock and his music library and then located his speakers. Perfect.

  As she scrolled through the songs, she hit on several classic blues tunes but realized she didn’t want Ridge to have to listen to lyrics about heartbreak and choruses of “My baby left me.” Not tonight. Tonight was about her and Ridge, about exploring their horizon as a couple, and heartbreak was the last thing on her mind.

&
nbsp; “I think we should skip the blues and go for some rock ’n’ roll,” she said as she continued to scour his library. “We should liven up this place.”

  “I’m not feeling lively,” said Ridge, “but if I take a quick shower I’ll probably snap out of my fog. Do you mind?”

  “No problem,” she said. “Should I ask if you need help with anything or will you bite my head off?”

  He smiled. “I can find my way to the shower, Caro. I can even brush my own teeth. And if I really, really try, I can use the toilet all by my little self.”

  She raised her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I’ll stop.”

  “Actually, I do need your help. I’ll want a change of clothes.” He directed her to his closet and asked her to pick out a pair of jeans, a white T-shirt and a fresh pair of briefs.

  Caroline completed her tasks and handed the clothes to Ridge, reminded of Eric’s words about how proud he was and how resistant he was to appearing needy. And yet he’d asked for her help and she’d provided it. They could do this. They could do it together.

  Ridge walked slowly into the bathroom, bracing himself for any stray objects in his path, and closed the door. While he was gone, Caroline sat in one of the two chairs by the fireplace.

  I’m right where I want to be, she thought, as she listened to the water running in the shower, right here with the man who makes me feel needed, alive, the best person I can be.

  At one point Ridge started humming and his voice echoed against the tiles. It was a tune she couldn’t identify because he didn’t so much hum as croak in his raspy voice, but it made her smile because it reinforced how far he’d come from the morose man who’d barked at her on her first day back.

  Yes, she was happy just to be in that room waiting for him. She’d spent so much time in New York rushing to this party and that gala, playing the social butterfly with acquaintances who didn’t care about her anymore than she cared about them, never touching down for very long for fear of being bored, of being alone, of being unloved. She didn’t know if Ridge Forrester loved her, but she knew he was opening up to the possibility, and it sent her spirits soaring.

  She heard the water shut off and more humming, and then he appeared in the open bathroom door.

  “I’ve made a momentous decision,” he said, looking wide awake in the fresh clothes she’d chosen for him. “And I’d really like your input.”

  Caroline rose from the chair. “Of course.”

  “Come here.”

  “In the bathroom?”

  “That’s what this is, Caro: a bathroom. I’ve decided it’s time to shave off my beard and you’re going to do the deed, along with giving my hair a trim. I should look my Forrester best for the fundraiser, shouldn’t I?”

  Caroline gulped. It was one thing to be his caregiver, but take a razor to his face? In a room with all the lights dimmed? She was strong willed but not a magician. “You want me to shave you?”

  He laughed. “And I thought Caroline Spencer was fearless. You’re terrified. Admit it.”

  He was right: she was terrified. But admit it? Not a chance. “I’m totally fine with it.”

  “Sure you are. If it’ll ease your mind at all, I’ll be turning up the lights in here once I put on my glasses. And I’ll walk you through it all, so you won’t have to pretend you have your barber’s license.”

  Caroline swallowed the giant lump of anxiety in her throat and joined Ridge in the cavernous master bathroom, where he’d set up a chair in front of the mirror. He put on his dark glasses, turned up the lights as he’d promised, told her where she’d find the razor, the shaving cream, the scissors and the towels and gave her step-by-step instructions in the art of shaving.

  “The first thing with this much growth is to take the scissors and cut the beard as close to the skin as possible—without killing me,” he said as he sat in the chair, a large white towel draped over his chest. “You have to clip it piece by piece until it’s basically just short stubble.”

  “Right,” she said and started clipping, letting the hairs fall onto the towel. When she was a little girl, she used to cut pretty dresses out of magazines and collect them in a journal—that was the sum total of her experience with scissors. But she was trying to stay calm in order to prepare herself for the much scarier job: using the razor.

  “You’re awfully quiet—for you,” he said after she’d been working on the beard for fifteen minutes.

  “I’m just taking it slowly,” she said. “But I’m done now and ready for step two. The razor, right?”

  “Cock a doodle doo!” He lifted his elbows like a squawking rooster.

  Caroline laughed. “I’m not a chicken, so be quiet.”

  “Actually, you’re very brave. Step two is the shaving cream, not the razor. Whip it into a nice, thick, foamy lather, then use the brush to apply it over the stubble.”

  Caroline did as she was told and discovered that if she imagined his face as a dessert and she was covering it in whipped cream, her hands wouldn’t shake. She slathered the shaving cream over him artfully, making sure she didn’t miss any spots, and then she gave him a second coat.

  “You look like Santa Claus,” she giggled as she took a minute to view her handiwork.

  “No stalling, Caro. Get on with it.”

  Caroline reached for the shiny, chrome-plated razor on the counter and reminded herself that razors were not necessarily weapons of destruction.

  She ran the razor over his left cheek in a slow, downward motion, just under his sideburn as he’d instructed her. And then she continued over the rest of his face, slowly, carefully, telling herself the worst that could happen was that she’d nick his skin in a thousand places and he’d start bleeding profusely and she’d have to call Ben for help and—No, stop it, Caroline.

  “You’re not bad at this,” Ridge mumbled, trying not to move his mouth.

  “Shush. I’m getting to the mustache next.”

  She was deliberate in her strokes and gaining confidence with each one, and before she knew it, she’d tackled his entire face without so much as a scratch.

  “There.” She stood back and admired his clean-shaven reflection in the mirror. “All done.”

  “God, you’re good. When I do it myself, I end up with at least a nick or two.”

  “As you said, Ridge, I’m good.”

  They both laughed.

  “Ready for the next step?” he asked.

  “I am.”

  She grabbed a moist face towel and wiped away the remnants of the shaving cream, then patted his skin with a dry towel. “And now the cologne?”

  “The aftershave,” he corrected her. “The bottle should be right there with the other tools of the trade. Pour just a little bit in the palm of your hand and then splash it—gently—on my baby-soft skin.”

  She found the bottle, opened the cap and smelled it. It was a spicy-sweet scent that, according to the label, contained shea butter, aloe, chamomile and green tea. Then she dribbled a handful of the lotion into her palm and patted his face with it.

  “One more step and we’re finished,” he said. “My hair. Can’t do a thing with it.”

  “Piece of cake.” Caroline trimmed the ends and evened them out, and by the time she put down the scissors he was the old Ridge, the one she’d run into in New York—with one big difference: she was in love with this Ridge and she prayed he felt the same way.

  “From what I can make out in the mirror, I don’t look half bad,” he said, cocking his head at his reflection, “although it’s like staring at a picture in a frame that’s been cracked in a dozen places.”

  “You look movie-star handsome, Ridge,” she said, hoping to keep his mood buoyant, knowing how impossibly difficult his condition had been for him. “You really do. Now lean back while I finish the job.”

  She began to massage his head and scalp with her fingers.

  “I bet you’d get nice money for this,” he said, his voice husky and low. “You have the touch.” He tu
rned toward her and felt for her hands and held them. “Thank you. Seriously, thank you. Now, how about taking me for a road test?”

  “You want to go out?” said Caroline. “I thought you were exhausted.”

  “I meant road test my clean-shaven face, right here, right now. I’m not the least bit tired. Don’t you know what a turn-on that was? Having you shave me like that? I told you that a full life is about using all the senses, and mine are on fire right now—in the best way possible.”

  He stood up, wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her close to him, so close her breasts were crushed against his chest, her belly pressed against his hardness, and she could feel herself growing moist. And then he kissed her, devouring her lips with such intensity that she had to take a break to catch her breath.

  “Come with me,” he murmured. “Be with me.” He clasped her hand and she led him back into the bedroom where he sat her on the bed and removed his glasses, setting them on the night table. “I wouldn’t trust just anybody to do what you did in there, Caro. But I trust you. Let me show you how much.”

  “I may die if you don’t.” Caroline’s pulse raced as he brought his lips down on hers again. Her whole body sprang to life as it occurred to her that there was no limo driver to inhibit them this time, no back seat to constrict them, no member of the Forrester Creations team to demand their attention. They were alone together and they wanted each other and it was happening—very fast but not fast enough to keep pace with her desire.

  “Ridge,” she purred, although it was more of a sigh of longing. He ran his hands over her, anywhere, everywhere. He unbuttoned her blouse and unhooked her bra, not with the fumbling of a blind man but with the deftness of a craftsman, with the hands of the artist he was. He traced the outline of her breasts with his fingertips and circled her erect nipples as if he were sketching her bare flesh. He was creating an indelible image of the curves and arcs of her body, both for himself, to compensate for not being able to see her clearly, and for her gratification. And when he lowered his head to take each breast into his mouth, to suck on them, flick his tongue over them, she cried out with the moan of a woman she’d never known she could be, a woman whose entire being was ablaze with passion, a woman who was anticipating the exquisite sensation of him touching her in the place that was throbbing with dampness and desire. Yes, it was all happening very fast and she was ready. She’d been waiting for a man like Ridge Forrester her entire life.