Sunset Love: The Bold and the Beautiful

by Shannon Curtis

  Brooke started to laugh. “Oh, I’ve missed you.”

  Donna waggled her eyebrows. “So, what’s it like at the ranch?”

  Brook started to tell her about her activities at the ranch, the horses, the cattle, the house—until Donna held up a hand. “Please, tell me about Thorne. Does he look good in a Stetson?”

  Brooke sat back in her seat and folded her arms. “I haven’t noticed,” she lied, trying to ignore the memory of her first sight of him, riding up the hill at sunset, his open shirt streaming behind him, his muscles on glorious display.

  “Oh, come on, Brooke. The guy is gorgeous. You’ve been out there for nearly a week, and you haven’t noticed?”

  Brooke frowned. “Donna, he’s Thorne. I can’t do anything with Thorne.”

  Donna blew her breath out in an exasperated huff. “Why on earth not? You’re not seeing anyone, he’s not seeing anyone … it’s perfect.”

  Brooke glanced down at the wooden grain of the table. “I’m—I’m not ready,” she murmured.

  “What are you waiting for?”

  “I’m not waiting for anything. I’m just not interested in a relationship at the moment.”

  “Thorne’s a great guy,” Donna stated.

  She nodded. “Yes, he is—and that’s the problem. I like him, Donna, I respect him—but the last time I was with him, I hurt him. I’m still feeling raw, I can’t entertain the idea of a relationship with anyone, least of all Thorne.”

  Donna’s eyes narrowed. “Why ‘least of all’ Thorne? That makes him sound special.”

  “He is special. He’s been amazing, Donna. This place of his—it’s stunning, and all the work he’s put into the ranch—”

  “I thought you were going there to convince him to come back to Forrester Creations?”

  “I’m working on it. But work is the operative word here. When Ridge decided he wanted Katie instead of me, it forced me to face a few hard facts. I want to be a better sister,” she said softly, and Donna smiled. “I need to be a better person, and I need time to focus on me, and who I am, before I can think about another relationship.” She didn’t want to admit that her thoughts were turning less and less to the man who’d broken her heart.

  “And then you’ll think about Thorne?”

  In his Stetson and nothing else. “Maybe.” She sighed. “How is Katie?”

  Donna took a deep breath. “She’s doing well. I think Will is keeping her very busy at the moment.”

  “Gosh, he must be running rings around her by now,” Brooke murmured. She hadn’t seen her young nephew in so long. She missed the little man. She missed Katie, too.

  “When are you coming back?”

  “Soon. I’ve been able to get so much work done here, hopefully enough for this project to get a green light.”

  Donna held up her hand. “Fingers crossed,” she said as she did exactly that.

  Brooke held her hand up and did the same. “Fingers crossed.”

  Donna blew her a kiss and tapped a command on the keyboard to shut down the video conference.

  Brooke leaned back in her chair feeling a little dejected. She missed her family. She missed those little chats she used to have with both of her sisters. It had been so long since they’d all been in the same room and just talked. She had to decide what was important—hanging on to the pain and the heartache that came with Ridge’s rejection, or mending relationships with her family, and perhaps celebrating that her sister was finally happy, after so much desolation?

  She rubbed her neck and moved it from side to side, trying to stretch out the kinks. Could she be happy for her sister, knowing she was forging a life with Ridge? Could she be that charitable? She hoped she could be. She wanted to be that generous-spirited woman who wanted the best for her sister, who celebrated her joys right beside her.

  The dining room door opened, and Thorne sauntered in, dangling his hat from one hand.

  “Why, hello,” Brooke said, glancing down at her watch. “I didn’t think I would see you before sunset.”

  Thorne grinned. “I’m planning a big day tomorrow, so I’m finishing early today.” He dropped the hat on to the bench and pointed to her neck. “Sore?”

  “Just a mild ache,” she admitted. “I don’t think my body is used to all this exercise—or all these hours in front of a computer.”

  He walked up behind her and reached over to close the cover of her iPad. “Well, that probably means you should finish early, too.” He placed his hands on her shoulder and Brooke almost melted at the warmth of his touch.

  “Where does it hurt? Here?” Thorne asked, stroking a particularly tender spot at the base of her neck.

  “Uh huh,” Brooke murmured, wincing.

  “Let me see if I can rub some of those kinks out,” he said, and she closed her eyes as he started to massage her shoulders.

  Oh God, that felt good. She dipped her head, giving him better access to her neck, and shuddered when his hands moved to the nape of her neck. His hands were gentle, rhythmic and so soothing. Her breasts swelled inside the lace cups of her bra, and she tried not to shiver. Okay, so maybe soothing wasn’t quite the right word. His touch relaxed her, inducing a sensual languor that had her thinking of shared bubble baths and silken sheets.

  Every now and then, she felt the puff of his breath on the back of her neck as he worked, his thumbs creating blissful counterpoints of pleasure, releasing the tension in her neck and upper shoulders.

  She trembled. She was a delicious combination of loosened muscles and coiling tension, succumbing to the hypnotic power of his touch. She tilted her head back, eyes closed, and bit her lip to prevent her moan from escaping. He was good.

  He gently manipulated the muscles in her shoulders, sliding and caressing his hands along her arms and back up, gliding across the cotton of her shirt to her collarbone.

  Brooke’s eyes opened in surprise, then she moaned when his hands trailed down over her chest, her bra and shirt barely any barrier to his heat. His hands slid to cover her breasts, and she leaned forward in her chair, pressing them into his touch, her nipples tightening against their barrier of lace. He lifted her breasts, caressing them, alternating between gentle and firm pressure. His breath teased her neck, just before his lips ignited a trail from her earlobe down her neck as one hand expertly flicked open the buttons of her shirt.

  Oh God, yes. She allowed him to press her back in the chair, as his hand moved into the opening of her shirt. His finger slid under the lacy cup of her bra, and she shuddered, her hand rising to cover his.

  “What are you doing?” she rasped, her breasts heaving as she tried to catch her breath, tried to coax reason and logic past the fog of passion clouding her brain.

  “I’m trying to make you feel better,” he murmured against her ear, and his finger moved inside her bra, brushing over her nipple.

  She trembled. “Mission accomplished.”

  He laughed huskily, and she closed her eyes as the vibration of his laughter swept through her, stirring hidden parts of her body that were now screaming at her to let him finish his massage.

  “You’re a beautiful woman, Brooke,” he told her quietly, and although his voice was low and calm, she could hear he, too, was trying to catch his breath, and that arousal gripped his body—she could sense it through the tension in the arm that held her. “I want you.”

  Her eyes widened at his admission. She wasn’t surprised—the touches, the hit-and-run kisses—yes, she knew he found her attractive, desirable even. She was just surprised he’d admit it. She didn’t think she’d ever hear Thorne speak to her like that again, so open, so honest, putting himself in such a vulnerable position, particularly with their history.

  “We can’t do this,” she almost wailed, and he slid his hand out of her bra. She nearly cried at the loss of heat.

  He shifted to his side so that he could meet her gaze. His features were drawn tight with desire, but there was something else, something deeper, darker, more intent. “You
’re right,” he said. “We can’t do this.” He dropped his gaze to her half-open shirt. “Not until you’ve put Ridge behind you. Not until I know that it’s me you want, and not a Ridge substitute.” He leaned forward and kissed her, parting her lips and sliding his tongue inside her mouth, hot and wickedly carnal, before lifting his head, his brown eyes almost black.

  “I’m no man’s surrogate, Brooke. If you want me, you’re going to have to convince me.” He stepped back, then winked. “Dinner will be in an hour.”

  She watched in shock as he walked out of the room, picking up his hat as he went.

  If she wanted him? If? Holy smoke. She was about ready to combust, a hot puddle of need that wanted to follow that cowboy to his room right then and there.

  She swallowed. How could he walk away? How could he make her writhe with lust and then saunter away? She raised a shaky hand to her temple. Good grief. The man was … potent. She wanted him with a hot fervor that was capable of disintegrating her restraint and caution.

  She closed her eyes. Good golly almighty. She pressed the heels of her hands into her closed eyes. Hadn’t she learned anything from this latest Ridge experience? She was doing it again, falling for the temptation of a handsome man who threw her crumbs of affection. But this time she had so much to lose. Not only her heart, but her pride, her dignity, and the integrity she was desperately trying to find within herself.

  The scary thing was, after this episode, apparently all it took was a hot kiss and the glide of a hand, and she was willing to sacrifice her peace of mind and self-respect for time in a man’s arms. No, not any man’s arms—Thorne’s arms.

  She took a deep, shuddering breath. Well, no more. She was going to resist the temptation that was Thorne. She was going to dig deep and find that strength to ignore this particular cowboy’s allure. She was going to resist.

  Even if she had to fake it.

  *

  Thorne closed his bedroom door and leaned against it. He was primed and ready to explode. He strode into the bathroom, furious with himself. He’d pushed too far, too fast. Once he’d laid his hands on her, all reason, all planning had left, and all he could do was feel.

  He shucked off his clothes and turned the water on, full blast. He’d startled her, and she’d balked.

  He stepped into the shower, gritting his teeth as the cold water hit him like icy pellets. He’d pushed too strongly, and like any other independent creature, she would resist, she would flinch—she would try to escape.

  He bowed his head under the spray of cold water, trying to cool the raging storm of arousal that clutched his body at the expense of clear thought. Brooke was beautiful, stunning and, just like his new filly, Liberty, she was adjusting to a new situation, and not easily trusting—for good reason. Yet with the horse, he was able to use patience and logic, understand her behavior and adjust his own to create the outcome he wanted.

  With Brooke—hell, he could go his whole life and still not understand how her mind worked. That was the challenge, though, the fascination: the constant surprise and delight. He wanted her, God he wanted her, but he’d been in a position where he’d felt like the stand-in, when the woman lying in his arms secretly preferred his brother. That had been hell, and there was no way he was going back.

  He tilted his head back, letting the water wash over his face. Was he expecting too much from Brooke? Was it too soon for her? Would she ever be ready for someone other than Ridge to enter her life?

  He switched off the water and stood in the shower stall, naked and dripping. Brooke kissed him, and he felt like they were the only two on earth; everything else faded away … but that was him. He didn’t know what was going on in Brooke’s mind when she kissed him, or whether she just closed her eyes and pictured Ridge instead.

  Old insecurities rose within him, sharp and jagged like a splintering windscreen, shards piercing his confidence. Could he ever replace his brother in her affections?

  Chapter Eight

  Brooke brought the bandana up over her nose as she trotted alongside the cows. Thorne rode ahead and Silas brought up the rear. They were moving the small herd up to one of the paddocks closer to the ranch. Some of these cows were due to calve soon, and Thorne wanted them close to home to monitor them, and look after them where necessary.

  She squinted behind her sunglasses. The cattle’s hooves stirred up the dust, and she was coated in it. She could taste it. Thorne wasn’t kidding when he’d said it would be a big day. After their kiss last night, she’d been tempted to leave, to return to L.A. and avoid any further lapses into lusting after Thorne. She figured it was best to remove herself entirely from the source of temptation, but Thorne had confounded her at dinner, neatly directing the conversation back to her research each time she ventured anywhere near the topic of leaving. He’d treated her like a friend, with no secret touches, no sexy little smiles or mischievous glints in his eye, nothing that couldn’t be considered politely respectful.

  She hated it.

  He didn’t mention the massage, and neither did she. She’d thought of nothing else, though, the ease with which he’d intensified the desire in her body. She could almost pretend it hadn’t happened, if only her body didn’t crave his touch so much; the memory of each glide of his hand, each press, each caress, the way she’d trembled with liquid pleasure and hot need at his touch.

  But it was his words, those bold, stark words that had packed a punch and given her pause: he was no man’s surrogate.

  She could honestly say she hadn’t thought of another man while she was in Thorne’s arms. There wasn’t room for anything other than the response he was wringing from her body, the way her heart pounded, the sensations he created that drove her to complete and utter distraction—so much so that his talk of Ridge had been like cold water on her passion.

  She urged Milly around to bring one of the heifers back to the herd. She was supremely conscious of keeping her horse—and herself—a safe distance from their lethal-looking horns. She rolled her shoulders. They’d been at it most of the day, rounding up some of the strays, herding them together and driving them toward the home pasture.

  Silas whistled, and his dog, a border collie named Duke, ran around the rim of the herd, barking and gently adjusting their direction. She smiled beneath her bandana. Silas was an interesting character, telling her stories of the big cattle drives down through the open range. He was a fourth-generation cowboy, and ranching life seemed to be embedded in his DNA.

  Thorne whistled up ahead, and Major bounded around the herd. Silas said he was showing good promise for a young pup—as long as the dang mutt didn’t run underneath the cattle’s hooves.

  She watched now as Thorne cantered across the pasture to round up a couple of cows that hadn’t been part of the initial group. He sat comfortably in the saddle, changing direction with the ease of an expert rider as a heifer tried to resist his guidance. Her lips pursed. Yeah, good luck with that.

  Thorne started to push them back to the main group, and Silas trotted around the other side, to prevent the larger herd from changing direction with the newcomers. Thorne leaned over in his saddle as he urged the cows into the larger group. Once the herd was in one group, Thorne grinned and trotted around to Brooke.

  “How are you doing?” he asked, bringing his horse alongside hers, but still keeping an eye on the cattle.

  “Fine, thanks,” she said, her words muffled by her bandana.

  His grin broadened. “Silas and I can take it from here, if you like. There’s only another hour or so of daylight, and I know you were waiting on some reports from the U.C.L.A. team. You can go on ahead, if you like?”

  She felt bad about leaving Silas and Thorne to do all the hard work. “No, it’s fine, I’ll stay and help.”

  This time he did glance at her. “It’s okay, Brooke. You’ve spent the day in the saddle, and you look beat. Go home, run yourself a nice warm bath, and then take some time to do whatever you want. Rosa will have dinner on the stove, so
you can relax. Silas and I have this.”

  Oh, a bath sounded wonderful. The opportunity to wash all this grime off, to feel clean, and then to catch up on some business reading before she fell asleep—she was so tired.

  “Okay, thanks.” She smiled, but realized he couldn’t see it behind her bandana. It didn’t matter, because he was off again, galloping around the herd to round them up and keep them moving in the same direction.

  She waved at Silas, then kicked her heels into Milly’s flanks, spurring her into a faster trot. She veered down the hill toward the river, content to ride along the banks until she got closer to the house. They picked their way carefully through the brush, and she listened as the birds trilled and flitted across the water, dipping their wings and spraying tiny droplets in their wake.

  It had been a warm day, and the river, glittering like diamonds as the sun’s rays hit it, proved too tempting to resist. Brooke pulled Milly to a stop then dismounted, carrying her empty water canteen to the water. She sucked in a breath as she dunked the canteen into the chill river. Milly drank at her side. Brooke’s fingers were tingling by the time the canteen was full, but when she brought it to her mouth and drank, she’d never tasted anything sweeter as the water soothed her parched throat. Once she’d satisfied her thirst, she put the cap back on the canteen and placed it on the ground by her feet.

  She untied the turquoise bandana from around her neck and lowered it into the water, shaking and squeezing the excess water out of it, then dabbing it over her hot face.

  Oh, bliss. The cool water ran down her neck and beneath the collar of her shirt, causing her to shiver. She wiped the cloth against her temples and the back of her neck, enjoying the refreshing contact.

  She rose, feeling revived and rejuvenated. She picked up her canteen, took hold of the reins and swung herself up into the saddle.

  “C’mon, Milly,” she murmured, pressing her heels gently into horse’s sides. The mare started to climb up the rocky slope.

  A bird flew out of a thicket, disturbed by the horse. Milly startled and reared, neighing shrilly. Brooke struggled to keep her seat, but found herself falling, landing roughly on the rocky ground, her wrist bearing the brunt of the fall, her ankle twisting in the stirrup before being released.