Sunset Love: The Bold and the Beautiful

by Shannon Curtis

  Brooke nodded. She remembered some groundwork lessons from her early days in riding, but most horses had come to her fully trained. Thorne’s words suggested that perhaps Milly still required some training. Entering the ring with a horse that was still new to her, and perhaps not as drilled and docile as the horses she’d handled previously, gave her a small thrill of excitement. It had been so long since she’d been challenged like this, and she’d always loved working with horses.

  Thorne had given her a long length of rope with the halter, and she realized now it was a guide rope. She started to lead Milly around, and the mare stopped occasionally, her head turning toward Brooke as she gave her a nudge. Brooke frowned. She knew it wasn’t out of affection. She’d pull on the rope a little, urging the horse forward, but soon Milly was crowding her again. Brooke smiled. Milly was trying to assert herself. Well, she’d been around enough horses to know who was really boss.

  “She’s cheeky, isn’t she?” she called out to Thorne.

  “But she’s worth the effort.”

  Brooke’s smiled broadened as she led the horse around the ring some more. Every time the mare tried to gently invade her space, Brooke raised her elbow and pressed back. After she’d managed to walk her for a few turns without any further bumps, Brooke halted, as did the mare. She nodded in encouragement. Good girl.

  Years of familiarity with horses kicked in, and she stepped back until the rope relaxed in a low droop between her and Milly. She moved in behind the mare’s drive line, the point near the horse’s shoulder where the girth line would be if she wore a saddle. Brooke made sure she was positioned as though at the point of a V between the drive line and the horse’s tail, then started to walk her, pausing every now and then until she was sure she had the mare’s attention, before briefly changing direction. Once she was sure she had the mare’s eye, she adjusted the speed, nodding when the horse obeyed her body’s signals in direction and pace, jogging into a trot, then a canter, and slowing back down again.

  “Mind if I join you?” Thorne called to her.

  “Sure.” She was really enjoying herself, all her worries gone as she focused on the horse and her interaction with it. Thorne vaulted over the fence with the graceful ease of well-trained gymnast, the tendons in his arms standing in relief against his tan skin. He walked over to her, his boots scuffing little puffs of the sandy sawdust.

  One hand clasped her shoulders, the other slid around her waist, pulling her back slightly. His warm, muscular body cradled hers. “She’s really responding well to you. Maybe she’ll extend that cooperation to me when I work with her.” His words were softly spoken, his breath stirring the tendrils of hair that had escaped her ponytail. His slid his arm down from her right shoulder to her elbow, and she shivered at the caress.

  “Let’s try it, shall we?” he whispered, and Brooke had to close her eyes as his breath teased at her ear.

  She nodded, sucking in a breath. She really was trying to focus on Milly, but his presence was so darn distracting.

  “Okay, let’s walk on,” he said softly. His hands were still light on her body, and she took a step forward, surprised when he did also. Milly followed, and this time Brooke surrendered to the distraction, shutting off her mind and just going with the moment. They continued like this for a few minutes; man, woman and horse moving in perfect synchronicity. Thorne’s body was so close she could feel his heat. The sensation was welcome, but also distracting, stirring up all sorts of feelings that were better left alone.

  “Okay, that’s good,” he said, his voice low, approving. They came to a halt, and for a moment stood stock-still. Brooke stared straight ahead at the wall beyond the pen, feeling his breath against the back of her neck, his hand like a brand on her waist. “She seems to respond well to a little care and attention.” Thorne withdrew, giving her space as he strode back to the fence and scaled it to sit on the top rail. Brooke felt oddly bereft and shivered in the cool draught. She continued to pace the horse for a little longer, gradually winding her down to a slow walk before finally halting.

  She cleared her throat and nodded. “She’s a good horse, although I think she needs a rest now.” Brooke approached the horse that was now staring at her with patient interest. She rubbed the mare’s forehead, then gently patted along her neck and smoothed her hand over her shoulder. “Good girl,” she crooned softly, and the horse nickered, turning in for more petting. Brooke laughed. “Oh, that was wonderful, Thorne, it’s been ages since I’ve done any horse training.”

  Thorne jumped down and sauntered over to her, a proud glint in his eye. “You’re good with them,” he said, as he patted Milly’s forehead. He raised his hand and slipped the halter over her head and off. “You should do it more often.”

  Brooke cocked her head to look at him in consideration. She kept patting, and Milly dipped her head for more. “So, was this a training exercise for the horse or for me?”

  Thorne’s grin was unabashed and so darn sexy, displaying a dimple that was all bad-boy mischief. “Both,” he admitted. “I remember when you would spend every spare moment with a horse, and you were happier, and more confident—nobody could push you around, not even my mother,” he told her quietly, and her smile faltered. “Sometimes, I think you need to be reminded of that.”

  She averted her gaze to Milly. He was right. She should have been stronger, more independent with the horse at the start, more commanding. Sage advice she could use in other areas of her life … She nodded, not quite able to say the words.

  “Okay, now let’s start getting her to follow your guide,” he said, gesturing to the guiding rope she still held. “You’re going to give Milly her direction.” He crossed over to the fence, and Milly stood patiently, waiting for Brooke’s next command.

  Brooke straightened her shoulders. She lifted her chin. For once, she felt completely in control.

  Chapter Six

  They spent the morning with the horses, first doing some groundwork exercises, then riding them out on one of the trails.

  During their ride, Thorne listened as Brooke chatted about the proposed collection, and the research she’d read during the night.

  “I sent your doctor friend an email,” she admitted.

  Thorne chuckled. That was Brooke. Once something caught her eye, she would investigate it and pursue it until she’d learned everything she could, until she understood how things—or people—worked. It shouldn’t surprise him that she was so intent on this line, but it did concern him.

  “What if you don’t succeed, Brooke?” he asked, tilting his head as he glanced at her. This morning she wore a light blue shirt, and despite the color in her cheeks, she still looked tired. She said she’d been reading up on seaweed and aloe vera–infused fabric.

  “I will,” she said blithely, chin up, hips swaying in the saddle. He wasn’t going to focus on the bob of her breasts. Oh, well, maybe a little.

  “But what if you don’t?” he persisted. “What then?”

  She frowned, looking at him in frustration. “I can’t fail.”

  Oh, dear. Those were words bound to drive a woman to ruin. “What if you do? What happens next?”

  Her mouth opened, but no words came out, and her expression grew confused. “I—I don’t know,” she admitted. “I really need this.”

  “So what’s really standing in your way?”

  Her answer was immediate. “Ridge.”

  “One man?” He frowned. “I thought you were both vice presidents? Don’t you have equal power?”

  “Yes, but at the moment Rick is also being cautious. I know I can convince him,” she said, and he realized she wasn’t speaking from arrogance, just confidence. “I have Caroline’s support, and this means so much to me … with both of us campaigning, he’ll eventually come around. Besides, I’ve spoken of Mom’s experience before. I think he will see the benefit, for something like this—and Caroline can be very persuasive.”

  Thorne’s lips twisted. That was one of the reasons wh
y he’d tried to convince his father to put him in the position of CEO. Rick and Caroline were joined at the hip, and he couldn’t see Rick making an objective decision that affected the future of the company when Caroline’s desires were involved. He sighed. That wasn’t his problem anymore.

  “He loves her, doesn’t he?”

  Brooke smiled fondly. “Yes. I’m so proud of him, Thorne. He’s grown into such a fine man, he treats his wife with respect—like an equal partner.”

  “I’m never going to be a big fan of Rick’s, but I have to admit, he seems to do right by Caroline, and she adores him.” He envied the bastard. “But you don’t think you can convince Ridge?”

  Brooke’s mouth turned down. “I don’t think I should have to,” she said. “I know it’s a good opportunity, with a great purpose. I believe we can do it economically.” She sighed. “It used to be that Ridge would trust my judgment, but not anymore.” She shot him a glance. “And unfortunately that goes both ways.”

  “So you have to prove yourself,” he said. Welcome to my world. “It’s frustrating, I understand. When you know your idea has merit, and it’s questioned, or even rejected—I know that feeling. Look at it as though you’re putting your proposal through a crucible—this fire will either make your concept stronger and more pure, or you’ll discover it wasn’t strong enough to withstand the challenge. At least, that’s how I had to look at it, when I was at Forrester Creations.”

  She nodded, then gazed out at the landscape. “I really want this to work, Thorne.”

  “Well, you just need to do your homework.”

  “I know, it’s just—the fabric you recommended is fantastic, and I’ve already contacted the Austrian company for more information, including costs … I’m just worried that Ridge is right, that it might be too difficult to produce and still be financially viable. But I can see from the early reports, that the construction of the fabric is sound, the infusions bond well, and it’s a good, safe, flexible material. It all marries up with the research I conducted prior to my proposal.”

  “I forget you were once a chemist. That background already puts you further ahead with this project. That company is just one involved in this kind of leading-edge research. There are probably others out there doing something similar.” He shooed a fly away from his face. “Pretend I’m Ridge,” he managed to say without shuddering. “Pitch what you’ve got to me so far.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure,” he said, and as they rode back to the barn, Brooke conducted a mock proposal. He challenged her on several points, earning several frustrated looks before they dismounted.

  “I thought you were supposed to be helping me,” she grumbled as they groomed the horses in opposite stalls.

  “I am,” he protested. “Whatever I queried, Ridge will query. Give them all the information they’ll need before they ask for it. You’ll need to dot your i’s and cross your t’s for this project if you want to get it approved. I know Ridge. He will look for the chink in your project’s armor. Make sure the whole chain is strong enough to withstand his scrutiny. His focus will initially be on the ‘look’—how does it impact on the Forrester Creations brand, on the impression and tone we like to set with our garments? If he can’t find the crack there, he’ll then turn his attention to the target market. He’s already mentioned R&D, but you’ve done some considerable research, and I know you’ll get the rest of the information you need on that front from those contacts I gave you. The main thing, though, will be the labor—not just from a cost perspective, but also from a quality perspective.”

  She halted in her brushing and narrowed her gaze. “You sound like an old hand at this.”

  “Convincing Ridge?” He tossed his brush back onto the shelf. “I spent most of my time at Forrester Creations doing exactly what you’re doing. Some projects, I was successful. Others, I wasn’t. But I can tell you now, if you don’t have Ridge’s support, he will challenge you at every level.”

  Brooke placed her brush on the shelf, gave Milly a final pat and joined Thorne in the corridor.

  “I’m sorry,” she said quietly as they left the barn.

  His eyebrows arched in surprise. “Why?”

  “I didn’t realize how hard it must have been for you, having to prove yourself in every single action.”

  He didn’t look at her. He hadn’t proved himself—that was the problem. He never truly achieved what he wanted to. “You know my motto.”

  She laughed huskily. “How could I forget? You trot it out whenever I hit a stumbling block. ‘Think positively and rise above adversity.’”

  He smiled, although the smile didn’t quite stretch far enough to feel genuine. “Exactly.”

  *

  Brooke spent the rest of the afternoon working on her project. Rosa plied her with the occasional coffee, glass of water and plate of snacks, and the hours passed quickly. Thorne’s friend from college had responded, advising they were already working on a similar project, and offering whatever help he could. She’d busied herself compiling a list of things she needed from him and his team. She was already impressed with the research he’d sent her—they had the answers she was looking for. So much so that she was considering using the U.C.L.A. Breast Center as a partner when it came to testing prototypes—if she got the approval to create prototypes.

  Getting information on the innovative fabric that Thorne had suggested, well, that was a little harder. The medical information was obtainable and available; the production data was not so easily attained. The healing qualities of the fabric were well-established and astounding, although the cost was exorbitant. The Austrian team used a micro-encapsulation technique, fusing the fabric with seaweed and aloe vera. She understood the revolutionary process, but reproducing it on a manufacturing scale was a challenge. She sighed. She felt like she was in a two steps forward, one step back cycle. She’d found a testing team ready and willing to participate, she’d found the ideal fabric, but obtaining it in the volume needed was the issue. She’d sent the information to the medical team at U.C.L.A. to review.

  It didn’t help that her thoughts kept drifting back to a particular cowboy. His conversation on their ride and back in the barn had given her an insight into his life. She’d never realized how difficult it must have been to work with two brothers who resisted and challenged each of his suggestions, so much so that she now appreciated how he must have felt under the chafing restraints of their demands. Despite her issues with her sister Katie, and no matter how at odds they were, she always felt there was still love—buried under a ton of betrayal and hurt, but still there somewhere. She may have to prove herself to her family on a personal, emotional level, but she’d never had her professional judgment challenged by them. Well, apart from the relaunch of Brooke’s Bedroom at the behest of Bill Spencer, but that was still based on a deeply personal position, when people had mistakenly thought they were having an affair. The success of the line, the concept, the business aspect of it, had never been challenged by those she loved.

  Thorne, on the other hand, had to fight tooth and nail for any success he achieved at Forrester Creations. Even his father’s support was not guaranteed, and on top of everything else, those tests—those contests—that Eric had devised to assess who would hold the position of Forrester Creations CEO, or which line would be produced and promoted, must have been just another humiliating trial for Thorne. She shook her head. She’d had no idea.

  Today, when she’d pitched her project, he’d challenged her, and while it was a frustrating experience, he’d pointed out some of the flaws in her logic, the assumptions she’d made, and was testing her in a way she’d never really had to endure: she’d never had to jump through hoops at work. She was grateful to Thorne, not only for his valuable insight, but also for his gentle delivery. She’d gotten off much easier than if it had been Ridge questioning her.

  And now that amazing brain, that formidable business acumen, would be lost to Forrester Creations. What if she had to g
o through this again? She couldn’t very well call Thorne at every challenge Ridge threw at her.

  She rubbed at her temple. She didn’t know if she could do this, not on her own. It was such a huge project, the scope was grand and, yes, Brooke was feeling a little intimidated. Okay, a lot intimidated.

  The lamp by the sofa switched on, and Brooke blinked. Rosa smiled down at her. “It’s getting dark out, you should have a light on.” Brooke glanced at the window. Where had the time gone?

  “Oh, goodness, I didn’t realize,” she gasped, folding the cover over her iPad. She looked up at Rosa. The older woman wore her jacket, her handbag slung over her arm.

  “I’m leaving, I’ll be back in two days,” the housekeeper said. “There are some meals in the freezer, and the heating instructions are on the lids. I’ll bring some groceries with me, so would you like me to pick up anything for you?”

  “No, I’m fine, thank you, Rosa,” Brooke said.

  “Do you have a favourite dish I could make for you?” Rosa asked, then smiled. “Perhaps a special dessert?”

  “Uh, no, I’ll be fine with whatever is here.”

  Rosa sighed. “Okay, but my number is on the fridge if you change your mind.”

  Brooke smiled as the housekeeper left, then sobered as she sat in the darkening house. Thorne was out there, and the sun had slid behind the hills. She hoped he was safe, whatever he was doing. Night crept in quickly here, and she worried about her cowboy out there in the dark.

  Her cowboy? Thorne most certainly wasn’t her anything. She found herself plagued by memories of their time together, back when they were married—and before. He’d been gorgeous back then, but now he was like a fine wine, getting much more complex and fascinating as he matured.

  Even now she still trembled when she remembered their time in the barn, his body so close to hers she could feel the ridged muscles of his chest and abdomen against her back. She braced her cool palms against her flushed cheeks. She couldn’t be having these thoughts about any man, let alone Thorne. These fantasies had to stop.