by Amy Andrews
The truth was she probably never had to work another day in her life. She was a Forrester after all—she wasn’t exactly going to end up on the street. But it wasn’t how she’d been raised. Yes, she’d been brought up with money and privilege but she’d also been given a strong work ethic. Everyone from her grandfather down worked hard for Forrester Creations and no-one coasted on anyone’s coat tails. The company was strong and proud because the people who worked there believed in it and gave their all.
Just as she did—had done.
Steffy didn’t want to sit around and be a trust-fund brat. She wanted to work. She needed to work.
She rose from the couch, her neck and shoulders stiff from being huddled over a dozen different newspapers, and checked her watch—five o’clock. She flicked on the television and surfed to the Fashion Channel before wandering into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine. Her mother was coming over in a couple of hours but with the slightly depressing employment situation, a soothing glass of Californian white was most definitely needed.
Steffy took a sip and sighed as the crisp flavors burst onto her palate. French wines were exquisite but there was just something about the flavors of home. She picked up the glass and stood in front of the television for a moment, watching a segment on the latest fashion news coming out of Milan. A designer’s PA had gone a little crazy and slandered him on Twitter and been sacked and was now suing the fashion house for an obscene amount of money.
One eye roll and a quick flick of the remote and the channel changed. She was so over gossip being mistaken for news. Who cared who was sleeping with whom or which designer was snubbed by which European royal? That wasn’t fashion and it made her mad as hell that the serious business of fashion—the clothes, the designs—were constantly hijacked by such trite storylines.
Steffy took her wine outside to the open air of the balcony and leaned on the railing, appreciating the warmth still hanging in the air. Okay, she could no longer see the Eiffel Tower but on a clear day she could see right down to Santa Monica and she realized suddenly how very much she’d missed home. How very much she was looking forward to starting anew here, in the place she loved most.
Not that she could do that without a job. She took another sip of wine as her brain worried over her employment situation. If she hadn’t found anything in a couple of weeks she was going to have to start calling in some favors. Nepotism wasn’t exactly the way she’d wanted to embark on her new life but it would be foolish to be so well connected and not take advantage of it—if need be—because that would just be biting off her nose to spite her face. And if Steffy Forrester knew anything from growing up in the fashion industry, she knew the value of a face.
And it was better than the alternative: sitting idly around with too much time to think.
A knock on her door interrupted Steffy’s musings and she looked at her watch. She frowned. Her mother wasn’t due for at least another hour. They hadn’t parted well yesterday after Steffy had told her mother of her intentions to leave Forrester and Steffy needed every single minute she had to prepare herself for round two. She hurried to the door as the knock came again, a sixth sense causing the hairs on her neck to stand to attention.
It had better not be Bill.
Steffy looked through the peephole. Not Bill. Not her mother.
Hope.
What could she possibly want? Gone were the days of easy friendship between the two of them. When the battle lines had been drawn for Liam, any friendly just-dropping-by gestures had vanished. They may once have been step-sisters, but for the last several years they’d been fierce adversaries.
That was another thing Steffy wanted to end. She and Hope had virtually grown up together—it was time they buried the hatchet. And there was no time like the present.
Steffy took a deep breath and pulled the door open. “Hope,” she said, smiling.
Hope looked startled at the exuberant welcome but she smiled too, albeit not quite as widely. “Hi, Steffy.”
Steffy stepped in close to Hope and gave her a big hug. “It’s so good to see you,” she said. And it was. Maybe now she’d let Liam go, she and Hope could have a real relationship.
“Come in,” she said, ignoring Hope’s stiffness. To be fair, Hope probably hadn’t been sure of the reception she was going to get.
Steffy ushered her step-sister to the couch and urged her to sit down. “You want a glass?” she asked, holding up her wine.
Hope didn’t answer for a moment as she looked down at her watch then back at Steffy. “No, thanks. It’s a … little early for me.”
Steffy ignored the thinly veiled criticism but the hairs on her neck remained raised. She shrugged. “This is late for Paris. My body clock hasn’t adjusted.”
Hope nodded awkwardly and Steffy waited for her to say something. Clearly something was bothering her and she’d come to get it off her chest.
“Just say it, Hope,” Steffy murmured. “We’re both grown-ups.”
Hope swallowed and for a moment Steffy wondered if she was going to throw up. She looked pale and her hand shook.
“I was wondering … what your intentions are, now you’re back? I know you and Liam annulled your marriage … I need to know if you’re going to make another play for him. And you need to know he’s happy now.”
Steffy blinked. Wow. Passive little Hope had gotten some gumption while Steffy was away. But Liam was in her past and Hope was welcome to him.
“You don’t have to worry. I’m not back for Liam. We’re completely over and I hope you and he will be very happy. I won’t be around to torment you. I’m not even going back to Forrester Creations, so you don’t have to see me at all.”
Hope gaped. “What?”
Steffy smiled at the look on Hope’s face. She couldn’t blame her—the idea had been utterly foreign to her months ago, too, when she’d first started to think about it. But now it was totally empowering. “I’ve resigned. I’m done. I’m going for a complete change.”
“But … but Forrester Creations is you … a part of you,” Hope spluttered. “Like it’s a part of me …”
Steffy shrugged. “No,” she said. “Ultimately, it’s just a job and I’m sick of all the power plays there. It’s time for something new.”
“But … but …” Hope’s jaw was opening and closing like a broken gate; it was almost comical. “What will you do? Where will you go?”
“Well, Bill’s offered me a job at Eye on Fashion,” she said. No way would she admit to Hope that there didn’t seem to be anywhere else to go.
Hope looked even more amazed—if that was possible—and then after a few stunned moments she laughed. She threw back her beautiful blonde head and she laughed as though Bill employing Steffy was the funniest thing she’d ever heard.
Steffy was annoyed. She put her glass of wine on the coffee table. “Is that funny?” she asked.
Hope looked at her, still laughing, and shook her head. “He can’t be serious,” she choked out.
“You don’t think I’m capable?” she inquired sweetly. Too sweetly.
“Working in publishing?” Hope sobered a little and Steffy wondered if her step-sister had suddenly realized the full implications of her working for Spencer Publications—proximity to Liam. “That’s ridiculous,” she spluttered. “You don’t know the first thing about publishing.”
Steffy knew that was a hundred percent true. She’d told Bill as much. But the fact that Hope thought it so wildly improbable just grated. “I’m a fast learner. And I’ll be reporting to Bill so you don’t need to worry about me having anything to do with Liam.”
Hope laughed again but Steffy could see the relief stamped on her face. “You’ll need to be an exceptionally fast learner. Bill’s been known to fire people for not knowing where the paper clips are. Screw up his magazine …” Hope shook her head and left the “ending up” part to Steffy’s imagination. Yeah—she understood. Bill was a tough taskmaster but the fact that Hope expected her t
o fail, to screw up … that rankled.
Especially after she’d been so nice about Hope moving in on Liam before the ink was even dry on the annulment papers.
“Thank you for that,” Steffy said stiffly as she turned and walked to the door. “And for dropping by, but my mother’s coming around soon so …”
She reached for the door knob and pulled it open then looked at Hope expectantly.
“No, Steffy … wait,” Hope said, scurrying over to the door. “I’m sorry … I didn’t mean to … I wasn’t implying you’d …”
“Screw up?” Steffy asked as Hope drew level.
“I’m really sorry,” Hope said, reaching out and touching Steffy’s arm. “It’s just so—”
“Ridiculous?”
Hope shook her head. “No.”
Steffy didn’t believe her for a moment. Clearly Hope didn’t think Steffy was capable of doing anything outside of the scope of what she’d been doing at Forrester Creations.
“Well, anyway,” Steffy said. “I guess I’ll be seeing you around.”
Hope nodded and for a moment Steffy thought she was going to say something else but she seemed to think better of it, saying goodbye before disappearing quickly from sight. No doubt scurrying home to Liam to laugh about Steffy’s ridiculous job offer.
Steffy shut the door, a well of anger rising in her chest. But she refused to let it consume her, as she would have in the past. She didn’t get mad anymore. But she sure as hell got even.
She walked to the kitchen where her cell was on charge and before she could even give it a second’s consideration, she dialed the number she’d committed to memory a long time ago.
“Steffy?” Bill’s deep voice slipped into her ear and hummed through her body.
“I’ll take it.”
Chapter Four
Bill looked up from his desk as Steffy strode through his door on Monday morning, her hips swinging, her sassy hairstyle framing her face. She was dressed for success and the red-blooded man in him appreciated the sexy little pinstriped suit, clinging in all the right places. But he knew it would be entirely the wrong moment to make a comment; Steffy was skittish enough after their hard, hot kiss in the limo. He didn’t want to send her scuttling away permanently.
He wanted her working here. The more he’d thought about it over the weekend, the more it had felt right. They’d make a formidable team, he just knew it. And that could only be achieved through keeping their relationship strictly business.
But he hadn’t counted on her stopping in front of his desk, putting a hand on her hip and saying, “Where do you want me?” That conjured up a whole host of images he’d been trying to suppress since their clinch in the limo.
Where did he want her?
He doubted there was a horizontal surface in his office where he didn’t want her right now. Maybe some vertical ones as well.
She was clearly nervous, her fingers tapping at her waist. Bill didn’t think she realized just what she’d said, he doubted she’d meant it to be provocative. She just wanted to get down to business and, as soon as all the blood returned to his brain, he would too.
“Have a seat,” he said, gesturing to the chair opposite as he half rose, pleased to have the desk between them—even if he could see himself swiping everything off it and laying her down on it.
As he sat again his gaze was drawn to her bottom lip and he remembered how it had tasted. He dragged his eyes upward. “Nervous?” he asked.
Steffy nodded. “Petrified.”
Bill chuckled. “Don’t be. You’re going to do fine.”
She nodded again but looked dubious. “I feel like I’m skydiving without a parachute.”
Bill sobered as he said, “I’m not going let you fall, Steffy.”
Steffy sucked in a little breath at the sincerity in his eyes and the rich solid timbre of his voice. She needed his assurance today—she needed it desperately. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
Bill nodded then lounged back in his chair, swinging it slightly from side to side as he regarded her. He’d felt sure she was going to turn him down and yet here she was—sexy and gorgeous and ready to start work.
For him.
A Forrester working for a Spencer.
“What changed your mind?” he asked after a few moments.
Steffy wasn’t fond of the way Bill was looking at her like he was sizing her up, although it was preferable to the way he’d looked at her as she’d entered the room—as though he was ready to eat her up.
“Hope.”
Bill stopped his idle swinging, sat up in his chair and placed his elbows on his desk. “Really?”
Steffy nodded. “She thought it was absurdly funny that you’d even asked.”
“Really,” he said again. It was no secret that Bill was not on Team Hope. He’d believed that Steffy was the person for Liam and, like Taylor, had done everything to champion her cause. It was irritating to see Hope and Liam so in love.
“You’ve been speaking to her?”
“Yes,” Steffy said. “She … dropped by on Saturday afternoon.”
“That was nice of her,” he said as he tried to figure out what Hope was up to. “Checking you’d settled back in okay?”
“No,” Steffy chuckled. “Checking on my intentions.”
Bill frowned. “Your intentions?”
Steffy nodded. “Toward Liam.”
“Ah.” Bill rubbed at his beard. “And you told her?”
“The same thing I’m going to tell you,” Steffy said. “Liam and I are over. We’re done. Done, Bill,” she warned. “No more. She’s welcome to him. I wished them both a long and happy life together.”
Bill regarded her steadily for a moment or two. “Okay,” he said, sitting back in his chair again. “So you’re here to prove to Hope you can do it?”
“No.” Steffy shook her head. “I’m here to prove to myself I can do it.”
Bill chuckled. “It’ll amount to the same thing.”
Steffy arched an eyebrow. “Lucky me.”
“Right,” Bill stood. “Let’s get you started.”
Steffy stood too, straightening her skirt and pulling her jacket down. “Bring it on.”
*
Steffy accompanied Bill on an extensive tour of the Eye on Fashion offices. From editorial to production to advertising, he introduced her to everyone who worked on the magazine. To her relief, Liam was out for the day and she was able to put that awkward moment off a little longer. By the time she was done, her head was spinning and she was even less sure of herself. So much to take in. So much to learn.
And then Bill showed her a corner office with a spectacular city view and told her it was hers.
“What? No.” Steffy shook her head. “This is too much. I can’t come in as the new kid on the block and have a bigger office than Liam. Everyone will hate me Bill. They’ll think—” Steffy stopped the thought before it popped out of her mouth. But she wouldn’t blame any of them if they accused her of sleeping with the boss to get this office.
“No-one could possibly hate you, Steffy.” He grinned, ignoring her abrupt ending, knowing exactly what she’d been about to say. “And anyway, it’s not bigger, it’s the same size and, trust me, you’re going to be working for it.”
Steffy glanced at him dubiously. “Well I’m going to have to now.”
He grinned again. “I want you shadowing Sasha for the next few weeks until you get the hang of things around here, okay?
Steffy nodded absently. “Sure.” Sasha was one of the editorial assistants.
“Good. I’ll leave you to it but have dinner with me tonight. You can tell me all about your first day.”
“Oh, no,” she said. “They’ll definitely think I’m sleeping with you.”
Bill laughed even as his belly clenched at the thought. “It’s none of their business, Steffy.”
Steffy knew that but she didn’t want to start off on the wrong foot. “Let’s make a deal: if I last a week, I’ll h
ave dinner with you.”
Bill held out his hand. “Deal.”
Steffy slipped her hand into his, prepared for a brisk shake, but warmth spread through her body at the contact and his coffee-and-mint aroma enveloped her. The thought of him walking out that door and leaving her to face this day alone was mildly terrifying and she hung on a little longer than necessary.
So did he.
“You ready?” a voice asked from behind, and she dropped Bill’s hand as if he’d just admitted to a communicable disease.
“Yep,” Steffy said to Sasha. “Let’s go.”
And she walked out of her office into her future without looking back.
*
It was almost six o’clock when Bill answered the knock on his office door that evening. “Liam,” he said, smiling at his son as he opened the door. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Liam shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walked towards his father’s desk. “Just thought I’d drop in, shoot the breeze.”
Bill didn’t believe that for a moment but he stood anyway. “Want a drink?” he asked as he headed for the bar cart.
Liam nodded. “Thanks.”
Bill poured two glasses of scotch, handing one to Liam. “To shooting the breeze,” Bill said and they tapped their glasses together.
And for fifteen minutes they sat in the desk chairs and Bill let Liam chat about his work and the football, and the trip to Vegas he was taking with some old school buddies next month. They went on to talk about the economy and the weather and the latest on the war in Afghanistan.
And finally—finally—Liam got around to his real reason for visiting.
“So you employed Steffy.”
Bill nodded. “She’ll be a great asset to the magazine.”
Liam stood and walked over to the massive glass windows with a view out over LA. “Do you think that’s … wise?”
Bill took a deep, measured swallow before he answered his son. “Why wouldn’t it be? She left Forrester, she needed a job so …”