by Ros Baxter
Ridge grinned to himself as the lawyer stammered out his next question.
*
Donna knew no-one, least of all Eric, expected her back to work that day. She also knew it was exactly what she needed to drive out memories of the courtroom, and of the night that had caused it all. So she shuffled the papers for Eric’s upcoming European visit, focusing on details of itinerary and final preparations.
It was over. She didn’t need to think about it anymore.
A soft knock on her door drew her attention away from her work.
“Still here?” Eric’s brow was furrowed. Dark shadows hung under his eyes and he rubbed a hand across his five o’clock shadow as he moved over to Donna’s desk.
“Yep,” Donna said, slipping the papers into a folder with Cannes 2014 marked on the front. She placed the folder into a drawer and then stood, moving over to Eric and motioning for him to sit on the low couch. She took a seat next to him. “You okay?” Her heart went out to him. She could only imagine the kind of day he’d had, dealing with grieving relatives and all the aftermath of a serious industrial accident.
He smiled wryly. “I think that’s my line,” he said, his mouth twisting downward. “Donna—I’m so, so sorry I couldn’t make it. How did it go today?”
Donna could feel the genuine concern radiating from him. She knew better than most how seriously he took his responsibilities. This was the man who had adopted her child, in defiance of his family. She knew how much it must have cost him to break his word to her. “Don’t be silly,” she said, reaching over to pat his arm lightly. “I know you would have been there if you could.”
Eric smiled, and his face lightened. “Ridge told me you were phenomenal.”
Donna felt an unexpected blush creep up her face at Eric’s words. Really? It was hard to imagine him using that word, but the thought warmed her. She had felt his presence strongly in that courtroom today; had felt his eyes on her through her whole testimony. And the knowledge had given her a warmth and strength that had allowed her to stay calm and focused. She was glad he’d been there, even with her almost meltdown outside the courtroom. As the thought skittered across her brain, she remembered again the feeling of Ridge’s arms around her, the hot press of them, and the way her skin had responded to his proximity, and his touch.
Her blush deepened.
Eric laughed loudly. “Oh, Donna,” he said, rubbing his eyes and then patting her leg. “You really need to learn to take a compliment!”
If only he knew, Donna thought, smiling back at him. This was more than modesty. This was . . . What exactly was it? She blinked. Certainly nothing she could explain easily to Eric. Nor did she care to.
“Anyway,” she said, ignoring his teasing. “I’m fine.” She stood up and moved to the desk, picking up the folder. “And here it is,” she said, passing the folder to Eric. “Your final itinerary.” She smiled broadly at him, genuinely proud of the work she had done. “I’m really pleased with how this baby has come together. Every detail we wanted is in place.”
Eric put the folder down beside him on the couch but did not open it. He looked suddenly very serious, and Donna felt a wave of concern. What had she forgotten?
“Every detail except one,” Eric said, his face unreadable. “Sit down, Donna.”
She did as he instructed, and Eric took her hand. Her heart began to beat faster. Was this it? Was he about to tell her how he was feeling? She smiled at him, wanting him to hurry up but also feeling suddenly, strangely, worried about what he might say. An image of Ridge’s face from earlier in the day flashed across her mind’s eye. Ridge, in the courtroom, sending her strength and courage. She shook her head. What did he have to do with any of this?
“Donna,” Eric said, clearing his throat. “I want you to know I’m so grateful for everything you’ve done for me these past few months. Your work . . .” He clucked his tongue and made an expressive gesture with one hand. “It’s been perfect.”
“Thank you,” Donna said quietly, feeling like there was a “but” hiding there somewhere. Was Eric about to tell her that he didn’t want her to work with him anymore? His expression certainly looked serious and hesitant enough for that kind of statement. But why? What had she done?
“I know you may find this unusual, given our . . .” Eric looked a little uncomfortable. He shifted slightly in his chair. “Our history. But I want to ask you something.”
Donna nodded, her throat dry, her heart pounding. “Sure,” she said, thinking, Come on, get on with it. “Anything.”
“I want you to come to Cannes with me.” The nervous look disappeared as he said the words, and he rushed on. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, think I’m trying to take advantage of you.”
Donna smiled to herself. If only he knew how much she wanted him to see her that way again.
Eric continued. “I just value you so much, and you have been such an important part of this.” He sped up, trying to convince her. “I’ve . . .” He hesitated, and Donna was confused, she had rarely seen him so nervous—Eric was always so self-assured. “I’m making some changes in my life, and this shoot is an important part of them. I’d love you to share it with me, especially given all you have done to make it possible.”
Donna tried to make sense of Eric’s cryptic words. Then she decided they didn’t really matter. All that mattered was that Eric was asking her to go with him. This could be just the opportunity they needed to reconnect outside of work and remember how good they could be together.
“I’d love to,” Donna said, beaming at him. “Thank you.”
Eric exhaled noisily and smiled, patting her leg again. “Wonderful!” Donna loved him when he looked like this—part excited boy, part magnetic, exciting man. “Will you have time? We leave the day after tomorrow, you know.”
“Oh, I know!” Donna laughed, pointing at his folder. “I put that together, remember?”
Eric smiled. “Of course. So it will work? For you, I mean.”
Donna smiled. She would make it work. She was already planning just how to take things to the next level with Eric.
He might be finding it hard to see what was right under his nose, but she would help him. And this trip was just the opportunity to do it—and to put all the confusing thoughts of Ridge to bed once and for all. Donna ushered Eric out, visualizing how she might shift him from thinking of her as a friend and colleague, to seeing her how he used to. She recalled his love of beautiful lingerie, and a plan started to form in her mind.
Chapter Four
Donna stepped out of the limousine Eric had sent for her into the wall of heat and eyed the airport doors. She had arranged to meet him in the lounge.
“Let me take that in for you, Ms. Logan,” the young chauffeur said, placing her bag on the sidewalk. Donna couldn’t help but notice his quick appraisal of her in the close-fitting white cotton suit and patent red stilettos she wore before he fussed with closing doors and trunk. The young man was blushing as he returned and started to pick up her case.
“I’m fine, thank you, José,” she said, taking the case from him. “I pride myself on packing light.” She gestured to the small suitcase. “I only have carry-on.”
José looked uncertain so she shooed him back into the car. She was excited; her spirits light and her tummy tingling with anticipation. Eric had asked her to go to Cannes with him. Summer in France. Nothing could ruin her mood today. As she picked up her case and turned to the doors, another limousine pulled up beside her. Some sixth sense stopped her in her tracks and she turned to watch its occupant alight.
Dear God. Could it be some kind of coincidence?
“Hey, Donna,” Ridge said, stepping nimbly from the car before the chauffeur could get the door for him. He looked like the king of the world—or maybe the underworld—casual in cargos and designer trainers, and a black shirt rolled to the elbows and open at the neck, showing far too much tan skin. His hair was mussy, like he’d not long been pulled from bed, and Donna
bit her lip as something about the image tugged at her tummy. She wondered what he wore to bed. Pajamas? Boxer shorts? Nothing? She wondered if he was as tan all over as those forearms and that enticing little V of skin at his neck suggested. She shook herself quickly.
“Hey,” she said, turning for the door. “You going somewhere too? Have a great flight.”
“Oh, I’m sure we will,” Ridge said, taking his case from the driver and joining her in two quick strides. “I love the continental leg, don’t you?”
Donna stopped and stared at him, hoping her mouth wasn’t hanging quite as far open as she felt it might be. Ridge was coming with them?
“Let me take that,” Ridge said, reaching for her case and brushing her fingers as he did. “I pride myself on traveling light. Only take carry-on.” He lifted the small case in his other hand by way of explanation but the echo of Donna’s words of a moment before stopped her in her tracks. She studied him quickly, trying to decide if he could have heard her say that. But no, it wasn’t possible.
Words Brooke had spoken to Donna years before suddenly popped back into her mind. It had been during one of the times Ridge had gone to Taylor, and Brooke had been devastated. Donna had been trying to convince her to forget him, that he wasn’t worth it. Her sister had turned to her, shaken her head softly and said: “You don’t get it, Donna. You know, you’d really like him if you gave him a chance. Sometimes he reminds me so much of you. Sometimes he says things, or does things, and I think: ‘That’s exactly what Donna would do.’”
She shook the memory away. What was going on with her and the universe? Why was this man constantly being thrust in front of her, despite her best efforts?
Ridge carried on unperturbed. “I tried to find you yesterday,” he said, as they made their way up the escalator to the lounge. “To see if you were okay.”
Donna knew. She had seen his missed call, and had dodged his visit to her office. She had decided avoidance definitely had a role to play when it came to Ridge and she intended to pursue it. She made a noncommittal noise in the back of her throat.
Ridge chuckled gently and they stepped off the escalator into the foyer that opened into the lounge. Something about that chuckle—that deep, knowing sound—frayed the edges of Donna’s control.
He knew, curse him. He knew the effect he was having on her, and he thought it was funny. Well, screw him. She wasn’t here for him. She had no idea how he had managed to talk his way into this trip, but she sure wasn’t going to let him ruin her composure and jeopardize her plans to spend some quality time with Eric.
Donna tried to tug her case away from Ridge, but he was holding it quite firmly. She saw too late that she had failed to fix the clasp properly this morning and felt the bottom drop from her tummy as the case fell open and all her things landed on the floor in the space between them. Donna fell to her knees in a desperate scramble to re-stow her things before . . .
“Expecting company?” Ridge smirked at her as he held aloft a tiny scrap of black lace and silk that had landed near his feet.
Donna felt her face burn but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer, she simply raised an eyebrow and held out her hand. He passed the skimpy teddy over, but she was sure his fingers lingered on hers as he made the transfer.
“You’re going to make someone a very happy man in that little number,” he said. His tone was light and teasing but his face belied his attempt at humor. Something about the sight of her lingerie had infuriated him. “For my father, I assume?”
The nerve of the man. He was so unpredictable. One moment so sweet and supportive, the next such a bastard. What was going on with him? “For me, actually,” Donna lied, quickly shoving her things back in the case and closing the clasp tightly.
It was his turn to raise an eyebrow.
“I like nice things,” she went on smoothly. “They make me feel good.”
“Of course,” he said, inclining his head toward her in a gesture that clearly said he didn’t believe her for a moment but was going to (finally) cede to good manners and pretend he did. Then he ruined it with his next words. “And I hope you get a whole lot of feel good on this trip, Donna. You, and my father.”
He held out an arm to usher into the lounge.
*
Eric checked his watch.
Where were they?
He was excited about this trip for so many reasons, and Donna and Ridge were both important parts of what he hoped to achieve. He’d picked up the reins from Ridge when his son had been through his recent troubles, but he wanted this trip to be about showing Ridge that he belonged with Forrester Creations, and that it couldn’t do without him.
This shoot was the culmination of the work Eric had done after Ridge had gone AWOL, and Eric was very proud of it. He wanted Ridge to feel the same; wanted him to be enlivened and excited by what they might achieve together at the company. And he also hoped it might help Ridge forget the pain of the split with Brooke and the disappointment at the loss of what he had thought would be a beautiful future.
And then there was Donna. Eric had always believed in her, and cared for her, but after the support she had given him recently, he knew there were few people he trusted as much. He wanted her there with him, so he could tell her how he was feeling, what was going on with him. He had been uncertain, but after deep reflection he felt very sure, and this trip was the perfect opportunity to share those certainties with her.
He truly felt that this time everything was going to work out perfectly.
Eric took a long sip of his drink and swirled the amber liquid around the ice, glancing at his watch again. It wasn’t like Donna to be late, and he hoped that Ridge hadn’t changed his mind. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw them enter and his breath caught in his throat at the beauty of these two people he cared for so deeply.
Ridge looked casual and handsome, his dark hair dotted with gray, his body still so young and strong. Eric was so happy he had reconciled with his son—it had been important to clear the air between them at the cocktail party; things had been so much easier and more relaxed between them since. But Ridge looked preoccupied as he stalked into the lounge. Then Eric’s eyes settled on Donna. She looked sweet and fresh in a cool white pant suit. Her long hair was tied back in a high ponytail, and her makeup was minimal, highlighting her natural beauty and the pink fullness of those killer lips. By God, she was a beautiful woman.
As he watched the two of them enter the lounge together, he realized for the first time what a stunning couple they would make: Ridge’s dark and intense good looks and Donna’s cool, blond beauty. He wondered if the two of them had ever . . . But he pushed the thought away. He, better than anyone, knew their history. The way Ridge had fought, along with his siblings, to keep Donna out of Eric’s life the first time. And the relationship between Ridge and Brooke, Donna’s sister.
He stood up as the two made their way over to him, and held out his arms.
*
Three hours in, and Donna was remembering all the things she loved about international flights. She knew many people who complained about the discomfort and lack of sleep. She smiled. Perhaps they had never traveled in quite the same way the Forresters did. Private jets sure did have a whole lot to recommend.
Donna sipped her champagne and sighed as she closed her eyes and listened to the classical music being piped through her earbuds. She felt a soft brush on her arm and looked over at Eric, sitting beside her.
“That was a big sigh.” He frowned slightly. “Are you okay about . . .” He shrugged, like he was searching for the right phrase. “The outcome.”
“Of course.” She smiled, pulling the buds from her ears. Donna knew instantly what he meant, in that way she always did. She and Eric had never needed to explain things to each other; they seemed to have some kind of chemical understanding. He could be my brother, she thought happily, then pushed the thought away, wondering where it had come from. No, not her brother. Her partner. Her husband.
She tried out another word: her lover.
Yes, they should be lovers, with that kind of strong understanding between them.
The thought made her shift a little in her chair as she ran over her plan. If all went smoothly, they would be lovers again very soon. Something jarred uncomfortably inside her at the thought, but she tamped it down. They had been lovers before, and it had been wonderful. But Ridge’s voice echoed inside her head, telling her that things change, that sometimes you can’t go backward. She shut her eyes against it. Sometimes you can go backward, she argued. You can, if that is the right direction for you. If that’s where you feel right, where you feel safe.
“Donna?” Eric’s voice interrupted her reflection and she realized he expected more in answer to his question.
“It seems fair,” she said softly. “It means he’ll have . . .” She paused, searching how she felt, and looking for the right words to explain it. “He’ll have a long time to think about what he did, and hopefully get some help to understand the consequences of his actions on other people. I understand they have good programs, where he’s going.”
“It was because of your testimony, you know that, right?” Eric studied her intently. “You did a wonderful job. All the signs were . . .” He shook his head. “There were strong signals that schmuck of an attorney might have been able to get him off. All that crap about darkness and his troubled background. Anyway, from what Ridge tells me, you were incredibly brave up there.” Eric reached over and squeezed her hand, and the feeling of his big strong hand over hers filled Donna with warmth.
She squeezed back. “I might not even be here if it wasn’t for what you did that night, Eric,” she whispered, wanting to say the words but trying not to think too hard about what they meant. She didn’t want anything to ruin the sweetness, the safeness, the rightness of being here with Eric, on this plane, flying off into what she hoped would be their beautiful future together. “Now that was brave.”