by Ros Baxter
“Hush,” he whispered. “Just go to sleep.”
*
When Donna woke, Ridge was still asleep beside her. She looked long and hard at him, trying to see in him all the things she had been afraid of before she fell in the water.
The hard and bitter man: afraid to love.
The man who could not let go of her sister.
The man who stood between Donna and a relationship with Eric.
She looked for all those things, but she couldn’t see them anymore. All she could see was the face of a man who had gone out of his way to help and protect her.
A man who had been with her at the courthouse, when she faced down her fear of the boy who had attacked her.
A man whose presence had begun to affect her in strange and compelling ways.
A man who had risked his own life to save hers—in a storm, out on the ocean, without a second thought.
He didn’t look the same to her now. His face—so dark and dangerously attractive before—now seemed very dear. His actions, which had seemed careless and dangerous, now seemed understandable. He had loved and been hurt, as she had loved and been hurt. And he was afraid of being hurt again. It made sense. A lot of sense. So much that had seemed huge and impossible between them before she fell from the boat suddenly seemed flimsy and insubstantial.
Of course she wanted Ridge. Of course she needed to chance her hand with him. Life was short; and chemistry like they had did not come along every day. Her brain groped for an image of Eric, and a sweet clarity filled her at the thought of him. She was not in love with him. She cared deeply for him, she respected and admired him, but Ridge was right, their moment had passed. And no matter how much it would have been easy and safe to fall back into Eric, she could not do it. She knew now that the heart wanted what it wanted, that there was a beauty and dignity in desiring someone with everything you had, with all of the uncertainties and risks that came with it. That was the stuff of life, and when she had been out in those waves, not sure if she would make it, life was the most important thing of all.
Then she thought about all the unspoken messages she had been giving Eric, willing him to notice her. He had said he wanted to talk to her, here in Cannes. He had told Ridge he wanted to dine with them tonight. Was he planning to tell her how he felt?
Oh no. If Eric did love her as she had thought she loved him, she could never hurt him by starting something with Ridge. Eric had been so good to her, so loyal and kind. He had saved her life, just as Ridge had, and more. He’d been a friend; he’d offered her a job that gave her satisfaction and meaning. How could she turn around and tell him she didn’t really want him after all, when the signals she had been sending him were intended to make him notice her, to give them another chance?
“Donna,” Ridge said, his drowsy voice full of concern as he woke and saw her staring into the distance. “Are you okay?”
She smiled weakly at him. “I will be.”
Chapter Eight
Donna steeled herself for the conversation she knew she had to have.
She had been resting and sleeping in her apartment all afternoon, and the doctor had called by again to give her the all clear a couple of hours ago. Eric had telephoned to check on her after hearing about the incident and had been full of concern. It hurt to hear his solicitous care, and Donna knew she had to put things right as soon as she could. So when Eric said that of course they must postpone dinner, Donna had adamantly refused. She needed to talk to him.
She arranged to meet him in the little bar attached to the charming local beach restaurant where they were to have dinner. She was early.
When Eric walked in, she almost lost her nerve. He was so dear and so important to her . . . perhaps she could just avoid the topic all together. Perhaps he hadn’t even noticed she had been rekindling feelings for him? Perhaps they could just slip into their old, easy way.
No such luck.
Eric stalked over, picked up her hands, drew her up from her stool and wrapped her in an enormous hug. “Oh, Donna, thank God you’re alright. I’ve been wanting to visit you all afternoon but my son threatened to break my arm if I interrupted your rest. Doctor’s orders apparently.” He sat down on a stool opposite her and swept his expansive gaze over her. “You look amazing, absolutely beautiful.” He touched her cheek in an intimate gesture. “A little pale perhaps, but apart from that, no-one would ever dream you’d almost drowned today.”
Donna felt herself flinch a little, internally, at his touch. Was it just the touch of an old friend, or was there more to it? Well, she would know soon enough. She smiled weakly at him, taking a deep breath.
But again, she was interrupted. Eric picked up her hands and held them close to his chest.
“Donna,” he said, holding her gaze. “I need to talk to you. I have a confession to make.”
“Eric, I—” Donna broke in, trying to stop him.
She couldn’t bear to have him do this; she couldn’t stand to be the cause of any embarrassment for him; or to have him say something that would make it impossible for them to be friends afterward.
He put a finger to his lips. “Beautiful Donna,” he went on, smiling at her and looking so happy that Donna’s guilt level spiked through the roof. “Let me finish.” It was his turn to take a deep breath. “You know I’ve been impressed with the work you’ve done with me these last few months. So impressed. And I did want you to come to Cannes to see it all come together, to see the fruits of your labors.” He smiled again, squeezing her hands. “But I also wanted more than that.”
Oh no. Donna’s hands began to shake and Eric rubbed them absent-mindedly.
“You’ve become so important to me, as more than a colleague and an old friend. I really feel, after all we’ve been through together, that we’ve reached a new level of understanding with each other.” He raised his eyebrows at her, looking for her agreement and she nodded miserably. “That’s why I wanted you to come away with me. Because this trip is more than business for me. I see it as the start of a whole new chapter.” He shook his head, the smile disappearing and his face darkening a little. “But I’ve been afraid. Afraid to risk myself.”
Donna couldn’t let this go on. She could see where it was heading and she had to stop him. “Eric,” she said, squeezing his hand this time. “You are very special to me, too. I’ve really, really appreciated all you’ve done for me these last few months. If it hadn’t been for you . . .” Donna hesitated, looking for the right words to explain how much he meant to her while also explaining that for her it wasn’t like that. Not anymore.
A waiter exploited her hesitation to ask, “Drinks, madame, monsieur?”
Eric impatiently ordered them two glasses of champagne and as the waiter left he turned back to Donna.
“I know that, honey,” he said, smiling again. “You don’t need to thank me. It’s just part of what we have, isn’t it?” He ploughed on, not waiting for an answer. “It’s just part of our special bond. And that’s why I needed to bring you away, before I took this risk. I knew that you were the only one I could trust with this.”
Trust with what? Donna’s brain struggled to catch up.
Eric squeezed her hand again. “You see, Donna, I’ve fallen in love.”
The way he said it made something lighten in Donna. He didn’t mean her. He was talking about someone else. A ridiculous sense of relief coursed through her. She nodded and smiled at him, unable to speak with the various emotions welling in her.
“She’s local, a French girl. Amelie. I met her here when I started putting this all together, six months ago.” His voice broke as he said her name, and he could not stop the grin that spread across his face. He looked young and happy, like a little boy. “But—” That uncertain look broke across his features again. “She’s . . . much younger than me.” He shook his head as though embarrassed. “And it’s such a cliché, I can’t bear it. I don’t know how the family will react. And I don’t care, not really. But that’s why I wa
nted you to come, so you could be the first to meet her. To see what we have.” He squeezed her hands again. “Donna, I’m very sure I love her, but I need you to meet her, see us together. Nobody knows me better than you do. Please, I need your advice.”
The waiter arrived with two glasses of champagne and Eric took a long sip of his.
“Donna, I think I want to marry this woman. I want to bring her back with me, to the US. But am I being too rash?”
Donna’s head was spinning. She almost laughed out loud.
All this time. All this time she had been sure that she would end up with Eric again, and he had been distracted with a new love. Those late night telephone calls from France. The spring in his step. His renewed sense of purpose. It all made sense. A few days ago the news would have devastated her. But now, all she felt was joy. And relief. Joy for Eric—dear, steadfast Eric, who had found some happiness—and relief that she would not have to tell him she didn’t feel that way about him; relief that he had, in fact, not even noticed the efforts she had gone to so that he would see her in that light.
And, best of all, relief that she was free. Free to consider what to do about the feelings she was having for Ridge. A delicious sense of possibility crept through her as she realized what it all meant. She leaped to her feet and threw her arms around Eric.
“Oh, Eric,” she said, squeezing him hard, her heart bursting with happiness for him. “I think it’s wonderful news, and I can’t wait to meet her.”
Eric smiled at her as though he could barely contain himself. “Good,” he boomed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and steering her toward the restaurant. “Come, she’s going to meet us inside.”
Donna happily allowed herself to be guided to the dining room.
Amelie was just being seated at a stunning waterfront table. She was indeed very young—in her late twenties, Donna guessed—and she was also stunning, in a subtle, arty kind of way. She had long, straight, dark hair, with bangs that reached almost to her large brown eyes. Her full red mouth blew her hair out of her eyes nervously as she stood to greet Donna. She was dressed in a stunning dress that was fastened tightly around her small bust, but hung loosely over the subtle curves of her body. The dress seemed to be made of some kind of hand-painted silk. The whole effect was ethereal and bewitching, just like her infectious, heavily dimpled smile. Amelie stood on tiptoe and kissed Donna noisily on both cheeks.
“I am so ’appy to meet with you,” she gushed, beaming at Donna and Eric. “Eric has told me so much about you.” She slapped herself on the forehead. “But, my God, I ’eard about what ’appened this day, on the ’arbor. Are you okay?”
Donna nodded and sat down to share the story. Amelie was an interested and charming audience, punctuating the story with cries of disbelief and squeals of encouragement as Donna told how Ridge had jumped in to save her.
“But where is Ridge?” Amelie frowned prettily at Eric, a hand on his arm, and Donna enjoyed seeing the close bond the two shared.
Eric could not stop beaming at his new love. “Oh, I’m so sorry, darling,” he said, leaning over to kiss her lightly on the cheek. “I forgot to mention. He called to tell me he was totally beat, couldn’t make dinner. Asked if he could have breakfast with me instead. Of course . . .” Eric chuckled. “He didn’t know the surprise I was planning to share, so I can’t blame him.” He rubbed a thumb affectionately over Amelie’s wrist, her hand in his. “And he did save Donna’s life today, so I think we can forgive him, don’t you?”
Amelie nodded enthusiastically. She raised her champagne glass toward Donna. “A toast,” she said cheerfully. “To Donna surviving the day in Cannes.” She tilted her head in the direction of the apartments. “And to Ridge, who saved the day. He has earned his rest.”
Donna smiled at Amelie and took a long drink of the excellent champagne. She already knew the woman would become a friend; she could see it in Amelie’s open, cheerful gaze.
“And to you, Amelie,” she countered. “For making Eric so happy.” She raised her glass to Eric. “Which is no more than he deserves.”
He lifted his glass and the three of them clinked. It had been a long time since Donna had felt so genuinely content. It was a wonderful thing to be surrounded by love. She took another long swallow, then put her glass down. “Now, if you’ll excuse me,” she said, pushing her chair back. “I think I need to visit the bathroom.”
Eric and Amelie smiled at her and nodded, then they turned back to each other, Eric brushing a stray hair from Amelie’s cheek. The gesture was intimate and proprietary, and it made Donna think of Ridge, doing the same thing to her earlier in the day. She wondered where he was. She wasn’t surprised to learn he needed an early night; he had performed an amazing feat out in the bay today. So he had more than earned an early night. But she still felt irrationally disappointed that he wasn’t here. She had dressed carefully, and only partly for the discussion with Eric.
As she turned to make for the bathroom, she suddenly knew that her work here was done, and she should head back, leave the two to enjoy their moment together. She turned back to them. “You know what?” She affected a brave smile. “I actually do feel a little tired. I wonder if you would both mind if I call it a night?”
Eric was up and at her side in a flash, and Amelie was only a heartbeat behind him.
“Donna,” the younger woman scolded. “You should not have come out tonight. You should be resting.” Her sweet, pretty face was so full of genuine concern Donna felt guilty at her small deception.
“No, no,” she said, trying to break away from the two of them. “Honestly, it was nothing. The doctor has checked me out and I’m completely fine. Probably just a little jet lag.”
Eric frowned at her and Amelie tapped her foot crossly. “Of course you should go back and rest,” Eric said. “I’ll take you.”
“Absolutely not.” Donna would not hear of interrupting their special dinner; it was the exact opposite of what she had intended. “I just need an early night. But I can absolutely go back on my own. I insist that the two of you stay here and enjoy this.” She nodded toward the beach vista, the sea shining in the moonlight.
Eric’s face was twisted into an I’m-not-taking-no-for-an-answer scowl when Donna hit upon the answer. “I’ll ask Maurice to accompany me,” she said, pointing at the staff member she had come to know well over the phone and had introduced herself to upon arrival.
Eric still looked mutinous, but Amelie laid a gentle hand on his arm. “Of course, Donna,” she said graciously. “If you’re sure?”
“Positive.” Donna smiled with relief at the younger woman.
As she made her way back to the room, chatting idly with Maurice, Donna reflected that she wasn’t particularly tired at all thanks to her afternoon of rest. Nevertheless, the early mark felt like a reprieve. It had been wonderful to see Eric and Amelie together, but Donna had much to think about, not least what she should say to Ridge when she next saw him. And she also felt that three may well have been a crowd at the little restaurant. Eric and Amelie’s love was still so fresh and new, they really only had eyes for each other. And they needed time.
As Donna bid Maurice farewell and slid the key card into her door, she decided to treat herself with a warm bath and a cold glass of champagne. There was much to celebrate. She was alive and life was sweet and good. Eric was in love, and she had snapped out of the mad daydream in which the two of them were somehow going to end up together. And then there was the other thing. She had realized she had feelings for Ridge, and started to think that maybe he even had feelings for her too.
Either way, she would not die wondering.
She turned on some lamps as she moved through the apartment and pressed a button on her iPod to release the haunting strains of Rachmaninoff. She had left the sliding doors to the beach open and the warm summer breeze wafted through the rooms. She felt warm and alive, her skin tingling and her heart beating with joy. She slipped off the pale green silk dress and ivor
y stilettos she had worn to meet Eric, and went to the kitchen clad only in her ivory underwear. She retrieved a crystal flute and popped the cork on a bottle from the well-stocked fridge, pouring herself a modest drink. She took a small sip and enjoyed the play of the bubbles in her mouth. She breathed deeply—ocean, summer and champagne. She even imagined she could smell a lingering scent of citrus and salt.
She made for the bathroom, pushing at the heavy antique wooden door. As she opened it to step through, she squealed involuntarily. There, amid candlelight and discarded clothes, lying in the centre of a storm of bubbles, was Ridge, naked bar the suds that offered him minimal coverage. Ridge was here, in her bath. Like some kind of fantasy come to life.
“Hello, Donna,” he said, leaning forward, close enough to trail one soapy finger up the outside of her leg. “Surprise.” He grinned at her. “Now, you’re not allowed to tell me you don’t like surprises. Because I know that’s not true, remember?”
Thoughts of the night before, in what she had thought was Eric’s bed, filled her brain.
She stood on the fluffy bathmat in her underwear and bare feet trying to make sense of it all. A slow smile spread across her face. “What are you doing?”
“Waiting for you, of course,” he replied, gesturing for her to come closer. As she stepped forward, he took her hand and playfully pulled her into the enormous tub. “I thought you might need a bath after your crazy day.”
She laughed, feeling her underwear soak through as he pulled her down into the water, and enjoying the warmth of his body against her skin as he turned her around and rested her against him. He was all she could feel, all she could smell, and if she had been able to think right now, he would have been all she could think about. But there was no conscious thought in this. Only pleasure.
She sighed contentedly. “And you also thought I might need some company?”
Ridge nuzzled her ear lightly, and she could feel every inch of him behind her. His scratchy stubble grazing her shoulder; his hard chest supporting her in the water; his firm arms holding her in place; and she didn’t even want to think about the hardness she felt pressed against the back of her panties.