Dangerous Love: The Bold and the Beautiful

by Ros Baxter

  About Dangerous Love: The Bold and the Beautiful

  Donna is convinced that Eric is the man she needs to get her life back on track.

  But then Ridge returns to Forrester Creations determined, it seems, to tease and taunt her.

  When Donna, Eric and Ridge travel to the South of France for a photo shoot, Donna thinks that, finally, Eric is about to reveal his love for her.

  But a yachting accident changes everything . . .

  Contents

  About Dangerous Love: The Bold and the Beautiful

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Acknowledgments

  About Ros Baxter

  Also by Ros Baxter

  About Heart’s Desire: The Bold and the Beautiful

  About Sunset Love: The Bold and the Beautiful

  About Blindsided by Love: The Bold and the Beautiful

  Copyright

  To my dad, for never saying ‘that seems like a dumb idea’. Even when it turned out to be.

  Prologue

  Donna stepped out of the building into the unexpectedly cool night. The dinner had been lovely—the food exquisite, the service perfect and the company entertaining. Ivo had made no secret of his desire for her as he had stared across the table, asking her carefully crafted questions about herself, his hand casually brushing hers as they toasted the joint venture they had just finalized. The designer was young and almost too handsome—his red-blond hair styled perfectly; his designer jeans clinging to every gym-sculpted bump and sinew; his face close-shaven to set off that killer jawline. He should have been a model, not a designer—Donna wasn’t entirely sure why she declined his offer to go for another drink after they finished coffee.

  The doorman held a solicitous hand out to her. “Can I hail you a cab, Ms. Logan?”

  Donna considered the man, who was looking tired but trying hard to hide it behind his usual cheerful smile. “No, thank you, Michael. It’s such a beautiful night. I think I’ll walk a while.”

  The restaurant was not that far from her new apartment. Both were in the fashionable part of town, where the best restaurants met the best bars, the most exclusive boutiques and the latest luxury apartment buildings. The night was cool, Donna was full of award-winning food, and the neighborhood was safe. There was no reason not to take a stroll and stretch her legs.

  Michael smiled and nodded in response. “Until next time, Ms. Logan.”

  She smiled at him. “Indeed, Michael.” She set off toward her building, which she could see in the distance. Its towers sparkled like blue sapphires against the summer skyline. It was as appealing to the eye from the outside as it was luxurious on the inside; no wonder it had won the prestigious Manning Joyce award just last month. A cool breeze ruffled her hair, which she had worn long and loose, and she pulled her black Fendi coat more firmly around herself.

  As she did, she felt it again—the lick of melancholy that had nipped at her heels all night. Even Ivo’s attentive flirting had been unable to drive it away. In fact, it had almost seemed to grow more intense as she had looked at the charming, beautiful young man making such a concerted effort to woo her. Something about him—the raw edges of his youth carefully disguised with clever dressing and grooming—made her feel jaded. He felt flimsy and surreal. She didn’t want to be sweet-talked and engaged in shallow conversations about popular people. As she sat with him, she had a sudden, strong desire to be in her own home, talking to someone she loved, someone who really knew her, connecting genuinely about things that really mattered.

  But there was no-one waiting for her at home. Not anymore.

  She shook her head, barely noticing the crowds thinning and the streets becoming a little darker. What was this sudden wistfulness all about? It was unlike her to feel so moody. She quickened her pace, resolving that a long bath in her jacuzzi, and perhaps a little nightcap, would fix this onset of malaise. She smiled suddenly, thinking about the twenty-year-old single malt in her cabinet at home. She’d never opened it. It had been a present from Eric, who always teased her about needing to develop a taste for whiskey. Perhaps tonight she would crack the bottle and have a taste. See what all the fuss was about.

  The thought cheered her, as thoughts of Eric usually did. Although they were no longer married, they remained friends, and he never forgot her birthday: the single malt had come with a lovely necklace. He remained sweet and thoughtful despite all their history. Or perhaps because of it.

  Donna glanced up from her reverie and noticed she was still a few blocks from her building, realizing with a jolt that it was further away from the restaurant than she had initially thought. The building’s height was deceptive; it made it seem closer than it was. She set her shoulders and continued. Soon enough she would be in that lovely bath, soaking in some Chanel salts.

  The street was quite dark now, although she wasn’t concerned. A block or so ahead she could see the lights of Chez Michel, another popular restaurant, and she could hear that its evening sitting was very much in full swing. Still, she increased her pace a little, knowing she would feel more comfortable once she was walking in its light.

  As she drew level with a small alleyway, a dark figure stepped out in front of her. Donna’s heart rate spiked and she internally berated herself. She was being neurotic; he posed no threat. But she could not shake the tiny shiver of fear that skittered down her spine, and found herself wishing she had let Michael call that cab after all.

  It happened suddenly, in the way of all bad things. The figure stopped and turned, and Donna was walking so quickly she was suddenly upon him. The parts of her that relied purely on instinct kicked into action and she could feel her heart hammering in her rib cage, the pounding thrum of her pulse. In the second it took for her to register that the figure had turned around, she noticed that there was an unnatural stillness to the man—he was poised and alert. She avoided looking at his face, and made to step quickly around him on the narrow sidewalk.

  But he was quicker.

  He shot out a long arm and captured her shoulder, swinging her around to meet his gaze. It was hard to see well in the dim light, but she could make out that he was young and pale, and there was a hardness to his face that brought goosebumps out on her skin.

  “Where you rushin’ to, pretty lady?” The young man’s voice was soft but confident, which only served to heighten Donna’s fear.

  She yanked away, hard, and made to move past him again. This time he positioned his body in front of hers.

  “Hey, girlfriend, I just wanna talk. You look real nice, all those pretty rings and stuff. I bet you got lots of cash in that sweet little bag.” As if to underline his words, the boy produced a small silver switchblade, waving it in the air ostentatiously with a flourish he’d probably learned from the movies.

  Donna thrust the simple gold clutch at him, willing her voice to stay calm. “Have it,” she said, as evenly as she could manage. “It’s yours. Some cash, some cards. But I need to go now.” She held up her hands in front of him, showing her palms. “Okay?”

  The boy took the bag from Donna’s hands and stuffed it in the back of his pants. Then he waved the knife in Donna’s face again. “What’s the hurry, rich bitch? Dontcha wanna talk a little?”

  Donna could see the boy’s small, pale eyes flicking with interest over her emerald green dress, lingering on her hips and bust. Fear swallowed her in its spiky jaws.

  “Maybe we should just move over here a little—” he motio
ned to the alleyway he had stepped out of, “—and chat some more.”

  All of the darkest nightmares of every woman crowded into Donna’s brain. She shut her eyes briefly and red swirls pressed in on her. This was not the time to zone out. She snapped back into the moment. She had to act, and decisively. She knew she could not go into that alley with this boy—this calm, confident boy who looked like he really wanted to use that evil little knife. But did she dare run, or scream, with him waving that blade in her face? Donna tried to force a smile as she surreptitiously scanned the street ahead, where diners were emerging from Chez Michel.

  “Sure,” she said, holding up her hands again. “Can’t hurt to talk.”

  The boy’s shoulders relaxed a little. “Okay, then,” he said, stepping closer.

  “Okay,” Donna breathed. Then she feinted lightly to the left, kicked off her shoes and ran. “Help!” she screamed.

  But the boy was too fast. He reached for her with those long arms and tackled her to the ground. Donna’s vision blurred as her head hit the pavement and she felt the cold steel against her throat. He dragged her up again and toward the alley, the blade pressing into her skin.

  “Oh, now you’ve done it,” he snarled into her face. “Now we really need to have a talk.” He spat on the ground near him.

  Oh my God. Oh my God this is really happening. She couldn’t work out what she should do, and time seemed to slow down.

  “Scream again and I’m gonna cut you, bitch. And you know what else?”

  But Donna didn’t get to hear what else. Before he could tell her, the boy crumpled to the pavement with a great Ooof. Donna scrambled to her feet, conscious that other people were now around her, but too confused and shaky to work out exactly what had taken place.

  As her vision cleared, she saw him.

  Eric.

  Standing in front of her, along with two other men.

  One looked like security and the other had the well-fed and well-dressed look of a business dinner companion.

  “What?” Donna shook her head, trying to clear it. She stared at Eric, who was the most wonderful and appealing thing she’d ever seen. Suddenly, Eric’s arms were around her, and his deep, commanding voice was talking to her.

  “Donna, honey, are you okay?”

  “That was some hit, Forrester.” The well-fed man chuckled. “I think that’s going to be one very sore boy when he wakes up.”

  As Donna’s brain worked to piece it all together, she’d assumed the security guy must have done something to disable her assailant—but her rescuer was Eric?

  Eric grunted. “Did you call the police?”

  “Done,” the security man assured him. “Anything else can I do?”

  “Nothing,” Eric said, and Donna could hear the barely controlled rage in his voice. “I’ll take it from here.”

  The man nodded at Eric then turned to Donna. “You okay?”

  Donna nodded, feeling her neck gingerly. “I think so.” She shrugged. “But if you all hadn’t . . .” She was horrified to find her eyes filling with tears as her brain put the rest of the sentence together inside her head.

  “Don’t think about ‘what if,’ honey,” Eric commanded, pulling her hard against his side and squeezing her tight. “I’m taking you to the hospital right now. The valet has my car just up here. I think it’ll be quicker than an ambulance. But do you think you’re okay to go with me, or would you prefer to wait for the ambulance?”

  “Hospital?” Donna tried harder to stand up straight as her stomach clenched hard at the thought. How could she explain to him why that was the last place she wanted to be right now? “No, Eric, oh my God, I’m so sorry about all of this. Look, honestly, I’m fine, I don’t need—”

  “Donna,” Eric interjected, and his face was a hard mask. “Look at me. You are going to the hospital.”

  Donna looked into those brown eyes that she knew so well, that always made her feel so safe.

  Eric persisted. “Do you understand I’m not asking you here? I’m telling you.”

  She nodded. Of course, he was right. She should get checked out. She was being silly, insisting on not going. She closed her eyes against the memories that hospitals always brought up.

  “You’re in shock, honey,” Eric said soothingly. “And who would blame you?”

  Her knees buckled under her as the image of that pale, angry face flashed across her vision again, and she sagged gratefully against Eric as he pulled her close, taking off his jacket and wrapping it around her.

  He turned to speak quickly to the burly security guard, then back to her. “Barker will take this from here. He’ll tell them where to find us for questions.”

  The valet pulled up in Eric’s car and jumped out, rushing to open the passenger door. He looked about twenty years old and was as white as a sheet. “You okay, Mr. Forrester sir? That was some move back there.” He motioned to the pavement.

  Eric chuckled. “There’s life in the old guy yet,” he said as he helped Donna into the car before carefully closing the door behind her.

  And, as Donna settled into the soft leather interior of Eric’s car, she knew what he claimed was true. Eric Forrester was one of those rare men who could handle any situation. He knew how to make you feel cared for and protected and nurtured all at once. Sitting in the car as Eric revved the engine and made for the hospital, Donna didn’t speak. But she felt content, for the first time in a long time.

  She felt like she had come home.

  Chapter One

  Donna placed the phone gently in its cradle and smiled to herself.

  Eric was going to be very pleased with what she had managed to achieve for the upcoming shoot. Securing Gigi Divine was no small thing.

  She stretched her neck luxuriously, and tidied a few final things on her desk. She hadn’t seen Eric all day, but she was sure he would want to hear this news. She pushed back her chair and checked her reflection in the ornate mirror placed carefully on the wall near the exit. Her hair was tied neatly and elegantly in a low chignon. Her makeup was flawless and understated, and under the severe black jacket, the square-necked red dress she was wearing clung perfectly to every curve. She regarded herself carefully, head to the side, her front teeth chewing at her lip. She looked good. But . . .

  She shrugged out of her jacket and then went back to her desk and extracted her black patent leather Gucci purse. Then she stood in front of the mirror again. That was better. The dress was perfect for her coloring, highlighting her skin and hair. The square neckline sat just below the rise of her breasts, but the severe cut helped to make the sexy peek classy rather than obvious. Donna nodded at her reflection approvingly as she smoothed the sides of the dress.

  A few final things before she went to see Eric.

  First, she tugged her hair out of the simple twist and extracted a small, silver-handled brush from her purse, running it quickly and expertly through her blond hair so that it sat long and straight around her face and brushed the neckline of her dress. Then she applied a wet pink gloss to her lips and a lick of blush to her cheeks. A soft kohl pencil outlined her blue eyes.

  As Donna stood back to check on her ministrations, she nodded again. She had taken her look from subtle and beautiful to subtly sexy.

  She hesitated as she picked up her portfolio to show Eric her work. She knew better than anyone that Eric was no fool. She wanted him to see her for what she was, to see what was right under his nose. But she couldn’t afford to be too blatant.

  Biting her lip, she considered her reflection again. Then she reached into her bag and extracted the reading glasses she sometimes used when she had eye strain after a long day. She settled them delicately on her nose and considered the effect.

  She smiled. Better.

  *

  Eric looked up at the soft knock from the doorway.

  The sight of Donna made him smile. So lovely and so loyal. She was truly an extraordinary woman. She’d been working hard to help him make the upcoming sho
ot come together and he was sure he wouldn’t have been able to achieve it without her help. The business had foundered after Ridge left, and Eric had needed to step back up to the plate—into far more hands-on terrain than he had been in for some time. Asking Donna to assist him had been a stroke of genius.

  Eric had always had a soft spot for Donna, and even more so after things had gone wrong with Taylor. Donna had been very kind to him. They had an unspoken bond after all they’d been through together—and she knew how badly he was hurting. Then, when he had seen her on the street that night a few months ago, after the attack . . . Well, his protective instincts had come to the fore. For some reason he didn’t quite understand, he felt a strong desire to protect Donna. But she was no charity case; she had proven herself to be worth her weight in gold.

  She looked incredible tonight. The red dress she was wearing showed off her figure beautifully, and her hair was soft and loose, as he had always liked her to wear it. She looked stunning, even with the square glasses. No wonder he had fallen so hard for her previously. She deserved to have someone who would make her very happy.

  He shook his head. But that was not why he had asked her to help him.

  No, it was her friendship and her loyalty, her sharp mind and her clever way with people that had led him to ask for her help. He would hate for her to think he had an ulterior motive.

  “You’re here late,” Eric said, rising to greet her as he always did. He strode over and ushered her in, kissing her gently on the cheek. “And you’ve got your glasses on so I know you’ve been staring at some screen or other for too long. I don’t want to work you to death.” He smiled warmly at her.

  She laughed, touching him lightly on the arm, and there was genuine warmth in her eyes. He really felt he could trust her. Perhaps he should mention . . .?

  But no, not yet. All in good time. He needed to see how things played out, first.