Sunset Love: The Bold and the Beautiful

by Shannon Curtis

“You’re right. You and Ridge—” Thorne began, his voice rough.

  “There is no me and Ridge, not anymore,” she said, averting her gaze. There was so much pain there, but she had to accept the facts. Ridge didn’t want her. She wasn’t good enough.

  “But …”

  Milly shifted further away at the surprise in Thorne’s tone.

  She finally met his gaze; saw the curiosity, the befuddlement. “Your brother prefers my sister to me.”

  She pulled on the mare’s reins and pressed her heels in, taking off for the homestead as tears gathered in her eyes.

  How could it still hurt so much?

  *

  Thorne watched as Brooke cleared the dishes. He still wasn’t quite sure what to say to her; didn’t know what had possessed him to reach over and plant a kiss on her.

  Yes, he did. She’d looked beautiful galloping across the pasture with her blond ponytail streaming behind her, a light-hearted smile on her face. He realized it had been some time since he’d seen her smile like that, and he’d just wanted to reach over and kiss her.

  So he did.

  Thorne picked up their glasses and the bottle of wine, and, lightly clasping her elbow, drew her out of the kitchen onto the deck. She was surprised for a moment, but she followed amicably enough.

  Once they were settled on the rocking chairs, gazing out into the darkness, wine glasses in hand, he turned to her.

  “Tell me about it.”

  Her eyelids drifted shut, her eyelashes creating half-moon crescents against the top of her cheeks. She took a deep breath.

  “Ridge has decided to make a life with Katie instead of me.”

  He nodded. He knew Ridge had made his decision a while ago.

  “When I spoke with Dad, he told me of his decision to make you and Ridge co-vice presidents,” he murmured. That had been his tipping point—the fact that his father was awarding his half-brother that position after Ridge had left the head office for over eighteen months without so much as a by-your-leave—but Brooke didn’t need to know that. Thorne had done everything in his power to build the operations and prove to his father that he was worthy of that position … only to have it given to the prodigal son. “I thought you would work together so well—you’ve done so in the past.” That remark chafed him, but he couldn’t deny it. Brooke and Ridge had always shared a connection that seemed unbreakable, despite his best efforts. “I know that would have been … problematic, considering your personal situation.”

  She opened her eyes, a dry smile crossing her face. “Problematic. That’s an interesting way of putting it. Co-parenting has become a minefield. Business decisions—well, we are surprisingly uncoordinated in that area too, at the moment. That’s probably one of the things I’m really struggling with—we used to be so in sync, and now I feel like we’re speaking different languages.” She waved her hand casually. “Whatever common interests we shared, they are long gone. We have the company, and we have our son, and we just can’t seem to get on the same page with either of them.”

  Thorne frowned. He could hear the stark pain in Brooke’s voice, see it in the shadows of her eyes as she spoke of his brother. “It’s been hard for you.”

  Brooke nodded. “When it didn’t work out with Bill …” she shrugged. “I’ve had to question everything about myself, about everything I thought I knew—my relationship with my sister, with Ridge—what is truly important to me, and what I want to be remembered for.”

  Thorne chewed the inside of his cheek. His brother had this magnetism with the opposite sex that Thorne just couldn’t fathom—but envied, all the same. “You almost sound like you’re facing a personal crisis,” he murmured.

  Her droll expression made him smile. “Ugh, that sounds so dramatic. Perhaps more of a personal awakening. I’m having to face some harsh truths about myself. I made decisions that I thought were right at the time, but I’m still feeling those ripple effects.”

  “Such as?”

  She tucked a strand of golden hair behind her ear. “Katie was so very angry with me when Bill and I first started our relationship. Now, I’m in exactly the same position, and I’m angry, and I’m hurt, and yet there’s a little voice inside me telling me that now I know what I put my sister through, and perhaps losing Ridge like I did is my just desserts. It’s over. He told me his heart is with Katie now.”

  Thorne winced at the pain in her voice. “I’m so sorry, Brooke.” His brother was an idiot.

  Brooke shrugged, then took a sip of her wine. “It’s my own fault.”

  “How?” Good God. How was any of this her fault?

  She toyed with her glass. “When I—when Bill and I first got together, Katie had broken up with him. I thought, as did Bill, that she’d meant it when she’d given him his rings and walked out. But she had a change of heart, and when she discovered our relationship, she was so terribly hurt.”

  Thorne nodded. He was aware of the whole fiasco, had witnessed the moment Katie discovered the relationship. What a nightmare. “But how does Ridge figure into that?”

  Brooke swallowed. “When he came back home, he was devastated to hear that Bill and I had had a relationship, that I could do something like that to my sister.” A tear rolled down her cheek, and he resisted the urge to reach out and wipe it away. She was finally opening up to him. When her relationship with Bill had been revealed, Brooke had closed herself off in her mansion, working from home. He’d been worried, but he’d had to respect her self-imposed imprisonment.

  “Bill isn’t his favourite person, so not only did I betray my sister, I did so with a man he can’t stand.”

  “And he blames you? He left you, Brooke. He abandoned you. On your honeymoon, no less, then returns eighteen months later and is upset because you moved on?” His brother wasn’t just being an idiot, he was being a jerk.

  Brooke shook her head. “He came back to reunite his family, Thorne. He came back to find the woman he loved had betrayed not only him, but her sister. He was understandably shocked.”

  Thorne’s lips twisted. Hmm. It must have been a blow to discover the world hadn’t stopped on a dime, waiting for him to return. There were times—like this—where his sympathy for Ridge was sorely tested.

  “I think you’re being too hard on yourself,” he said quietly.

  “Am I, Thorne? Am I really?” She brushed at the fresh tear running down her cheek. “I slept with my sister’s husband, Thorne. I ruined her marriage, and in the process ruined any chance for happiness in my own. I deserve everything that comes my way.”

  Deep inside, something keened at the self-recrimination, the self-hate, in her voice. God, she was tearing herself up inside.

  “Why are you bearing all the blame?” he asked. “Ridge left. You were no longer married to him—you were a free agent. Katie dumped her husband, then got hurt when he behaved like a single man. Bill had a liaison with you, his wife’s sister—yet you seem to think this is all your fault.” He shook his head in frustration. “You all made decisions, and you all have to live with the consequences, I’ll admit that, but as far as I can see, every person involved there is culpable. You shouldn’t be bearing all that guilt by yourself, Brooke. Share it around. You’re not responsible for Ridge’s actions—only he is. Same with Katie, same with Bill. You can only take responsibility for your own actions.” The whole mess was frustrating—and it was a mess, with all those hurt emotions, the anger, the betrayal, but Brooke was acting as though she was the sole villain of the piece, and everyone else was blameless. They weren’t.

  Brooke nodded, sucking in a deep breath. “And that’s exactly what I’m doing, Thorne. I am taking responsibility for my actions. I’ve done things that I’m ashamed of, I’ve hurt people, and it’s time for me to change. This is why the Glamazon line is so important to me.”

  She twisted in the chair, pulling her legs up to curl them beneath her. “I have the opportunity to do something good. To help women in a really dark time, to not only give them a tool t
o help them through recovery, but also a way for them to feel good about themselves in a time where they need to feel good, to feel comfortable—to feel beautiful. I keep thinking about what my mother went through—the pain, the depression she hid from us … After the operation she moved to Paris, she distanced herself from her family, from the man she loved—all because she didn’t want to be a burden.”

  She chewed her lip for a moment, as though choosing her words carefully, and that surprised him and saddened him. The Brooke he’d known had felt comfortable enough, confident enough, to express herself freely. Now a sobering caution guided her.

  “I firmly believe beauty comes from within, as does confidence, but I also know that confidence is rocked by this disease. They struggle with identity, they struggle with pain, with loss—and this is something small, in the grand scheme of things, but it could have a huge effect on their self-esteem, and that’s what I want to do, I want to have some positive effect, somewhere. I need to do some good.” She gazed up at him, her eyes pleading with him to understand.

  He did, probably a whole lot better than she thought he could. She spoke as though she shared an affinity with these women, as though she was struggling with her own identity and self-esteem.

  “And it’s all I have now.” She uttered the words as though surprised he couldn’t see the obvious. “Forrester Creations, my family—they’re all I have left.”

  Something small and sharp hooked at his heart. She honestly believed that. He was seeing a completely different side of Brooke. Her vulnerability, her fragility, drew him inexorably in. For a moment he almost gave into it. Almost. But he’d been there, done that. He might love the woman, but he wasn’t about to let her steal his heart, not again.

  But he could help her.

  He sighed. She wasn’t manipulating him. Sure, she came here on a mission, but she wasn’t using her feminine wiles, or trying to evoke an emotional response to get him to do her bidding. No, she’d been forthright in her goal, and had stated her case plainly and simply. That was probably what he found so irresistible. He’d wanted to leave it all behind him, but seeing Brooke in this state, he knew that he had the power to change her outlook, just a little. His lips lifted in a dry smile. Wasn’t that exactly what she was hoping to achieve with those breast cancer survivors?

  “Fine. I’ll help you,” he said gruffly. Her eyes widened, and he held up a finger as a smile bloomed across her face. “But not with the operations. Anyone at Forrester Creations can do that.” The less time he spent with her and the team, the less likely he was to fall into old patterns. “A college buddy of mine is one of the doctors at the U.C.L.A. Breast Center. He could probably help us with some details about what needs to be factored into the designs from a physical and recuperative perspective.” He eyed her for a moment. “Actually, I might be able to help you with the material, too. There’s some innovative new fabric coming out of Austria that looks very interesting, and might be ideal for your project.”

  “Oh my god, Thorne, are you serious? You’ll help me?”

  “With your business study,” he qualified. “I’m not going back to Forrester Creations to oversee the operations.”

  She nodded, her face transformed from the desolation of a moment ago to happy enthusiasm. “Thank you, Thorne, it means so much to me.”

  He kept his smile in place, although it made his cheeks hurt. That was all she seemed to want from him, his help and cooperation. He nodded. “Let me get that information for you.”

  He went to his office and dug out the contact details for his friend, as well as for the Austrian company and the statistical reports available on the new fabric. He emailed them and returned to Brooke just as her phone beeped.

  “Oh, this looks great, Thorne,” she said as she rose from her rocking chair. “I can’t wait to check it all out.” She gave him a grateful hug, and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. Her pert breasts brushed against his chest, her long legs, which had once wrapped around his waist, pressed against his thighs. He closed his eyes, breathing in the scent that was light, floral and feminine, and seductively Brooke.

  Her arms tightened, then she tilted her head back. “Thank you,” she whispered. “This means a lot to me.”

  She stood on tiptoe to brush her mouth against his. He knew she meant it as a friendly thank you, but that didn’t stop him from taking advantage. He slid his hand up and held her head as he deepened the kiss, slanting his mouth across hers and drinking in her taste.

  She opened her mouth, and he felt her gasp of surprise as his tongue slid in, tangling with hers. He didn’t want her thanks, didn’t want her to just want his expertize. He wanted her to want him.

  He poured every ounce of passion into that kiss, angling her head for deeper penetration. She moaned against his lips, her fingers clutching tightly at his shoulders. He slid one hand down her back to cup her derriere, and she moaned again. He could feel her nipples brushing against his chest, tight and pebbled despite the layers of clothes between them. Desire tightened his body, arousal burning his restraint. She was beautiful, she was hot, and she was pulling his shirt out of the waistband of his jeans, her hips swaying with the same tight need that controlled his actions.

  He backed her up against the railing of the deck, lifting her so that she sat on the top bar. God, she was so beautiful. He moaned as she arched her back, pressing her body even closer to his. His lips left hers to trail across her jaw and down her neck. He pressed her over the railing, and she clasped him with her legs, wrapping them around his waist and pulling him in tight, using him as an anchor to catch her balance.

  He groaned as his hips came in contact with hers, the sensations so agonizingly blissful it was hard not to lose control then and there. He kissed his way to the V of her shirt, as his hand rose and covered a breast. She gasped, and he felt her tremble.

  “No,” she gasped, her hands delving into his hair.

  He licked the indent of her collarbone, the way that used to drive her wild, and smiled as the muscles of her thighs tightened around his waist. Her fingers tensed in his hair, and he raised his head to meet her gaze.

  Her eyes were dark with unmistakable desire, the hazel highlighted by green slivers. Her lips were parted, her breath coming in delicate pants, and her cheeks were flushed. She had the look of a thoroughly aroused woman, and he experienced a moment’s satisfaction, knowing he was responsible for that.

  “We can’t do this,” she rasped, then swallowed.

  Thorne frowned. He thought they were doing just fine. They were both enjoying it. He straightened, allowing her some space, despite his body’s protests at the loss of physical, carnal, contact.

  “Why not?”

  Her desire was slowly retreating into something sadder, tinged with desperation, and the lines bracketing her mouth deepened with strain.

  “I don’t want to hurt you, Thorne,” she whispered.

  He banked his own arousal at her words. They brought back dark, painful, devastating memories of the time he’d realized their marriage was over, that Ridge would always have prime position in her heart.

  “You still love Ridge,” he said quietly.

  Her eyes widened, and he saw the glimmer of tears. “I-I-Yes. Yes, I do still love Ridge, but … that’s not what I meant.”

  “Just what do you mean, Brooke?”

  She chewed on her lip, a lip that was curvy and swollen from their passion, as one of those tears spilled down her cheek. “I make mistakes, Thorne. Big ones, bad ones. I feel so strongly, and I follow my heart, and so far I’ve usually ended up hurting someone. I’m poison, Thorne. I can’t be intimate with someone, I can’t make love with a man, if I don’t love the woman I am.”

  She pushed him away and ran into the house, brushing tears from her cheeks as she did so.

  Thorne stared after her for a moment, stunned at her revelation. He turned and gripped the handrail of the balcony, his knuckles white with frustration. Brooke’s liaisons with bot
h Ridge and Bill Spencer had virtually decimated her self-esteem. He wanted to punch both men in the nose.

  He bent over to stretch the muscles of his back, iron out the kinks in his body and give his ardor a chance to cool.

  Brooke thought making love to him would be a mistake. She was probably right. They had a history, and just the fact that their marriage had failed should make a liaison now as repulsive to him as a rotten fish.

  Yet he couldn’t deny he felt an attraction for her, and could see that was reciprocated. He straightened. They’d always been dynamite in the sack, and it looked like his body still craved Brooke’s with the same passion—he could tell she was just as turned on by him. That hadn’t changed.

  He ran a hand over his face. Brooke was hurting, but he’d seen this before. She and Ridge would break up, and then eventually find their way back to each other again. And he would be the one out in the cold. Again. Second place—again. Yeah, Brooke was probably right. Them getting together would be wrong. She evidently still loved Ridge; God knows why—in his view, his brother had treated Brooke badly.

  This was the very reason he’d left Forrester Creations. He didn’t want to be second best anymore, to always lose out. He wanted more—hell, he deserved more. Falling in love with a woman who loved another man was an exercise in masochism.

  Yet how could something so wrong feel so good?

  She thought she was poison—his mind balked at the thought. She was like a drug, maybe, one that was addictive after the first hit. But he’d already been stung by her, and couldn’t you build up an immunity to poison? His lips lifted in a smile as he sauntered back into the house.

  If Brooke thought she was poison, it was up to him to convince her that he was just the antidote she needed.

  Chapter Five

  The annoying beep-beep of a reversing truck grated at Brooke’s ears, prodding her awake. She blinked a few times, waiting for her brain to catch up with her body. She rolled over and was brought to a halt by her iPad. Oh, yes. She couldn’t sleep last night, so she’d done some preliminary research and sent some emails. She frowned. She’d worked for hours, trying to distract herself from the temptation to leave her bed, walk across the hall and slide into Thorne’s. She shuddered as memories of the hot kiss they’d shared on the deck surfaced in her mind.