Dangerous Love: The Bold and the Beautiful

by Ros Baxter

  So, yes, Donna had a million reasons not to trust and not to like Ridge. But, watching him like this, so full of some strange kind of pain, raging at his father and the world, she couldn’t help wanting to go to him, put her arms around him and try to make it all better. She shook her head. What was that and where had it come from? Was it because of all the pain her sister Brooke had caused Ridge? Had she started to feel responsible for Ridge as she watched him storming around Forrester like a man possessed?

  Looking at these two men, father and son, she wished she could wave a magic wand and say the words that would encourage them to listen to and understand each other. Eric had felt deserted, she knew, when Ridge left so suddenly. And when it all ended with Brooke, Eric had expected Ridge to return to take up the mantle at Forrester Creations. Thomas was a competent manager but he was no Ridge, and that was why Eric had been forced to take control again of the daily running of the business.

  Donna gently murmured some apologies and left. One way or another, father and son were having it out tonight. And nothing she could say was going to make any difference.

  *

  Ridge eyed his father warily.

  “Well?” Eric stood facing him, his body straight and still. The air between the two men was thick with emotion and history. They were standing in the small alcove, away from prying eyes, but Ridge couldn’t help but wonder who might see them. Anyone looking at them now would know something was about to blow. “I think you owe me an apology.”

  Ridge felt his hackles rise at his father’s imperious tone. He raised an eyebrow. “An apology? For the truth? You were married to Donna, weren’t you? As I recall, you left our mother for her and broke her heart.”

  Eric shrugged his shoulders. “Really, Ridge? This again? Now? I thought we’d gotten way beyond all that. What’s this really all about?”

  Ridge watched his father’s face carefully. Eric was right: why did he care so much about the idea of his father with Donna? He was having trouble himself wondering why the thought of his father sliding back into an old relationship with Donna bothered him so much. Ever since he had come back, Donna had been everywhere, fluttering around like a zealous butterfly, full of good ideas and hard work. And more—he knew there was more to what he was feeling.

  The real problem was that he was trying not to notice how attracted he was to Donna. Trying, but failing. Badly.

  Ridge sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. “I just can’t believe you’re going there again,” he said, leaning against the wall like a man defeated. “It didn’t work before and there are absolutely no signs that anything is different now.”

  Eric’s eyes narrowed, and his shoulders squared. Ridge remembered too late how much Eric loathed being told what to do, especially by his own children. Eric was a proud man, a self-made man. He expected respect, not least from those to whom he had given so much.

  “Let me tell you this for free, Ridge, because I’ll only do it once,” Eric said, his face unreadable except to someone who knew him as well as Ridge did. The cold fury Ridge saw there was like a living thing ready to leap out and strike. “It is absolutely no business of yours what my intentions are with any woman. You know nothing about what’s going on in my head, or in my love life. You’ve been away. Remember?” Eric seemed to think for a moment, and Ridge sensed there was more. Then he shook his head and continued: “I will pursue whatever I want with whomever I please.”

  There was such vehemence in Eric’s tone Ridge was almost sure now that he was hiding something. But Eric wasn’t finished. He drew himself up further and eyeballed his son.

  “I will not have you try to shame me—or embarrass Donna—like that again. Ever. Do you understand me?” The last three words were enunciated carefully.

  Ridge nodded slowly. He was fraught with tension and he wanted to punch something. And he could tell there was more to his father’s words, and the anger behind them, than just Ridge’s behavior toward Donna. Ridge had felt it since he had returned: there was a gulf between him and the man he had grown up believing was his father. Ridge knew Eric was angry with him, but it was hard to unpick all the reasons why, and neither of them seemed to be prepared to call it out.

  Well, now seemed as good a time as any. He decided to go straight for the jugular as he stepped away from the wall and faced Eric.

  “Okay, then,” he said. “What is it? Why have you been so mad with me since I got back?”

  “Why?” Eric’s face darkened and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “How can you ask me that?” He stepped forward, his hands balled into fists. “You left. You left Thomas in charge and with no sense when you might be back. Thomas is a good guy, don’t get me wrong, but he doesn’t have what it takes to make this company work. It needs leadership. It needed you, Ridge. And where were you?”

  Ridge felt each word like a punch to the gut. He knew it was true. He’d had so much going on with the situation with Brooke, and then coping with its aftermath, that he hadn’t been there for Eric or for the company. But he was back now. And he wasn’t going anywhere.

  Why couldn’t Eric see that?

  But his father wasn’t finished. “And you didn’t tell me. Not anything. Not when you left, and not when it all went south with Brooke. Why in God’s name couldn’t you have picked up the phone and called? I’m your father. You could have called me. I get that you didn’t want to talk to anyone else. But me?” He looked at Ridge with hurt and confusion written all over his face. “Couldn’t you have talked to me?”

  Ridge’s heart shriveled inside his chest as he listened to Eric. He was right. He should have called. But he had been so caught up in his own pain. And more: he’d been swallowed by the strongest sense of failure he had ever felt in his life. He had loved Brooke for as long as he could remember, had pursued their relationship through the ups and downs of his whole life. And it had ended so badly.

  He felt like a fool; and the worst kind—a blind fool.

  “I’m sorry,” he said finally. “I get it, and you’re right. I should have told you what was going on. I should have kept you in the loop. I was just so . . .” He took a breath, and straightened up. “I was just so broken.”

  The two men stood watching each other, and Ridge knew one of them had to be brave and break the impasse that had built between them. As he considered Eric, he thought about how much he loved this man—this brilliant, proud, loving man. Eric, who—along with Ridge’s mother, Stephanie—had built Forrester Creations from nothing into the global force it was today. Eric, who had always treated Ridge as a beloved son, even when he had found out the truth of his birth. Eric, who knew Ridge better than anyone, and expected more of him than anyone else as well.

  What was Ridge without Eric?

  That was something he never wanted to find out.

  Ridge grasped his father’s arms and looked into his face. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve been selfish. I’ve been—”

  Eric met him halfway, wrapping his arms around him. “You’ve been hurt, Ridge,” he said. “I got it, honestly. I’ve been there, too. But you’re back now.” He hugged him hard again. “And that’s all that matters.”

  It felt so good to make things right with Eric that Ridge started to feel the brittle edges of his bitterness and despair chip away a little.

  The two men stood like that for a moment before pulling apart.

  “I’m sorry about Donna, too, Dad,” Ridge said. “I shouldn’t have said what I said. Just like—” He hesitated, but he knew it was right. It was time. “Just like I should never have tried to break the two of you up before.”

  Eric nodded. “Thank you, Ridge. You’re right, you shouldn’t have. And you need to stay out of my love life now. Things are complicated . . .”

  The look on Eric’s face suggested he had a lot to say about his love life and he wanted to share. There was an openness to him that Ridge hadn’t seen in a long time. And for his part, Ridge wanted to know how things were for Eric—what he was feeling
, what was troubling him. Somehow the thought that Eric might open up to him made Ridge uneasy, but he needed to know. Eric had a secret, and Ridge had a strong feeling that it was about Donna. It was clear to anyone with eyes that Eric liked and respected Donna tremendously. But was he falling in love with her again?

  Then a tall, discreet man in an evening suit cleared his throat behind them. “Mr. Forrester,” he said quietly. It was one of the staff from the venue. Then, as if realizing his mistake, he nodded toward Eric. “It’s time for your speech.”

  Eric nodded then turned back to Ridge. “I’m glad we talked, Ridge,” he said.

  “Me too,” Ridge said, feeling the truth of it in the warmth that was starting to replace the cold, hard kernel of bitterness that had settled inside him over the last few months.

  But as Eric walked away, Ridge knew there was something else: something about the thought of Donna with Eric again still unsettled him. This time was different from the irritation he had felt last time. His mother was no longer the emotional sticking point she had once been for Ridge. And he could see that Donna made his father happy. Even more, he could see that Donna wanted his father to notice her again, the way he had previously. She had been careful, but Ridge had noticed her, spending extra time with Eric, going the extra mile in a way that indicated she felt more than friendly toward him.

  And as he sorted through all the things he was thinking and feeling, he realized the source of the churning in his stomach: Donna wanted Eric.

  Big deal, women always loved Eric. Donna could join the queue.

  But why did the thought of her in that queue bother Ridge so much?

  *

  The walnut-paneled lift was blissfully quiet and empty. Donna stepped into it, feeling exhaustion in every sinew, and pressed the button for the top floor. She had booked herself into the hotel where the reception had been held for the night, knowing from past experience she would barely be able to stand at the end of the event. She leaned against the back wall and closed her eyes as the doors slid quietly closed.

  She would not think about the day after tomorrow. It was going to be a hard day, and for now she just needed sleep and forgetfulness. So she wouldn’t let her mind dwell on going to court.

  All she needed to do right now was just thank God tonight was over, that it had gone well, and that nothing stood between her, a thousand-dollar-a-night bed, and a dreamless sleep.

  Or almost nothing.

  A sudden thunk indicated someone had halted the lift doors as they were almost closed. Donna’s eyes flew open at the sudden intrusion and her stomach sank.

  Oh no. The Big Bad Wolf himself.

  Ridge was showing no signs of tiredness from the long day and night, or from whatever scene he had just played out with Eric—he looked as alert and relaxed as always. And, even from her brief glance and in her semi-comatose state, she had to admit he also looked as sexy as they came. He’d shrugged off his jacket and it hung over one shoulder. His shirtsleeves were rolled almost to the elbow, revealing tan, muscular forearms. He was leaner and harder than she remembered—like recent pain had firmed his already impressive body, along with his heart.

  “Hey,” Donna said, not having the energy to push herself away from the wall to greet him. Just leave me alone. I don’t need another scene tonight. She closed her eyes again once Ridge had silently acknowledged her, willing the lift to be quick and Ridge to be kind. She mentally counted under her breath as the state-of-the-art lift hummed to the top floor. Then it stopped.

  Her eyes flicked open again, and she realized their ascent had been arrested halfway up. And that Ridge’s hand had been the one to press the emergency stop. His face was dark with intent and she knew he wanted to say something. The opulent lift suddenly seemed very small, and the force of Ridge quite overwhelming. He was studying her intently, and he looked like he was mentally rehearsing a speech. Donna had been on the receiving end of Ridge’s views about her and her relationship with his father before.

  She knew what he thought, and she really didn’t need it right now.

  “Ridge,” she murmured, her senses on high alert despite her exhaustion. She wanted to shout at him to leave her the hell alone, but she was tired. So tired. “Please, I just don’t have time for this tonight. I’m shattered. I’ll talk to you tomorrow if that’s what you want.” She squared her jaw. Men like Ridge needed people to stand up to them. “Not tonight,” she said, more firmly.

  Ridge stepped back a little, his eyes widening as though he was shocked by how strongly she was reacting to the idea of talking to him.

  “I’m sorry, Donna,” he said. “I know you’re tired.” He ran his hand through his dark hair that was peppered with gray, and the gesture was so masculine that Donna’s interest spiked in spite of herself. “I’m not trying to bother you. I just want to . . .” He took a deep breath. “I want to apologize. For my behavior earlier. It was rude, and boorish. You didn’t deserve it. I meant what I said earlier tonight: you did a good job out there. You deserved only praise. Not some childish attack from me.” He held his hands out to her in appeal.

  She studied him. Was this some trick?

  Then she recalled the scene she had left brewing between Ridge and Eric.

  “Your father made you apologize?” Her lips twisted into a wry grin, and a wave of sadness washed over her to think that Ridge’s words had to be forced out of him. More than sadness; she felt oddly hurt and let down, as though she’d hoped for more.

  But Ridge looked furious at her suggestion. “No,” he said. Then he frowned. “I mean, we talked about you. My father was very angry with me. But he didn’t tell me to—” Ridge looked frustrated by his inability to communicate properly. He picked up Donna’s hands gently. “Donna,” he said, looking deep into her eyes. “This is coming from me, all me.” He brought one of her hands up to his chest. “Cross my heart. I just want to say sorry. For being an oaf.”

  Ridge was standing so close that Donna could smell the citrus saltiness of his aftershave, and feel the steady thud of his heart under her hand. His eyes were wide open and his hands were warm and rough.

  Suddenly, she wasn’t tired at all.

  She was wide awake and wired by the closeness of him. This was the first time Ridge had ever said sorry to her. She didn’t know how to respond. She was programmed to be suspicious of him, after all he and his siblings had done to her over the years, and after the strange watchfulness he had shown toward her since his reappearance a few weeks ago. And then the business tonight, with Mr. Nakamuri. But looking at him now, she felt wrong-footed. He was apologizing, and it threw her off her guard.

  “Thanks, Ridge,” she said, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a gushing thank you. This was still the man who had hurt her sister, many times over. Brooke may have done her share of hurting as well, but she had always loved him. Donna needed to remember: this was Ridge, and he was dangerous to women. He might be saying sorry, but she still felt disinclined to show too much vulnerability to him. So much had happened the last few months: the attack; the work with Eric; her growing feelings for him; and now the re-emergence of Ridge. She needed to pull herself together and remind Ridge who she was. She was Donna Logan, a survivor. She flicked her eyes open, determined to stare this wolf down.

  When she did, Ridge was staring back at her.

  “What?” Donna blurted the word out before she realized how rude it seemed after his apology. But she couldn’t help it.

  Ridge shook his head, and she caught another trace of that elusive cologne. “I was just thinking,” he said, licking his lips lightly as he continued to watch her, “what a lucky man my father is, to have a woman like you prepared to give him another chance.”

  Donna felt herself stiffen. Oh no, this was it. He was going to call her out on her feelings for his father. Maybe this was some kind of trap after all. “What do you mean? There’s nothing going on between your father and me.”

  “Come on, Donna,” Ridge said, drawing her o
ther hand up to meet its partner over his heart. The feeling was strangely intimate. “I’m no fool.” He shrugged and smiled wryly. “Although I’ll admit I may seem it from time to time, especially when it comes to women.”

  Donna raised an eyebrow and nodded for him to go on.

  “I can see what you’re feeling for my father.”

  Donna snatched her hands back, not wanting to discuss this, least of all with Ridge, and least of all now, when she was weak with exhaustion and hunger. And, she had to admit to herself, when she was also weak with the disorienting effects of Ridge’s proximity, stirring up her senses and making her feel a little breathless.

  Ridge shrugged and smiled gently at her. “You don’t need to worry. I’m not planning to say anything to my father.”

  Well, why was he bringing it up at all? What could she say in response to his words? And why did he need her to know that he knew? She felt like screaming at him.

  Ridge dragged in a deep breath. “I just want you to know, that if that’s what happens, if you and my father decide to make another go of it, I will respect both of you, and your decision,” he said. But he avoided her eyes as he said it.

  “Really?” Donna studied him, trying to discern the truth. He was so close, so dark and so confusing. The whole night suddenly seemed such a blur. Ridge was talking to her about Eric, about how she felt about Eric, but right now, she couldn’t pull her eyes away from those mesmerizing dark ones that seemed to be looking into her like they knew her very intimately.

  She felt herself sway closer to him, watching his lips as they formed more words.

  “Really,” he said softly. “But I’ve gotta say this . . .” He seemed conflicted as he spoke.

  “What?” She felt like some fairground clown, trying to understand what was going on, asking, “What? What?” with her mouth hanging open.

  Ridge cleared his throat and moved even closer. He seemed to be moving in slow motion as he lifted a hand and picked up one stray curl, settling it lightly behind her ear. The brush of his fingers on her neck and the top of her ear shot hot tongues of electricity through her. “I’ve gotta say I just don’t get it,” he said, clearing his throat again. “I don’t get why. Why you and Eric? My father is an incredible man, I know that. But—”