by Amy Andrews
“Dad,” Liam said looking at him. “She has no business being here. It doesn’t seem like a … smart thing to do, to hire someone we both have a history with.”
“She’s intelligent with a keen business mind and has a wealth of experience in the fashion industry, which, you know, I thought would be a good match for my fashion magazine.”
“Sure, but Dad—do you honestly see this working out?”
Bill took a sip of his scotch, regarding Liam over the top of it. “Come on, Son, out with it, what’s this really about?”
Liam sighed. “I’m … worried about her. I think she’s making this huge life decision at a time when she’s been through enormous upheaval and I think she’ll regret it.”
Bill took his time in answering. He had a sneaking suspicion that Liam liked being stuck in the middle, between two feuding women. That he liked having Steffy wrapped around his finger.
“Well, I agree, making big decisions during times of upheaval can be bad. But it can also work out really well. Maybe Steffy deserves a chance to find that out?”
Liam shook his head. “Forrester Creations is her birthright, Dad. It’s all she’s ever known; it’s in her blood. You don’t think she’s going to regret turning her back on that?”
“I think maybe she might,” Bill said carefully. “Eventually. But she always has the option of going back. As you said, it’s her birthright, Forrester Creations isn’t going anywhere. It’ll always be her safety net. But at least this way she’ll have added a few more strings to her bow.”
“I think she’s making a mistake.”
Liam’s paternalism was beginning to annoy Bill. “She’s not a child or some feeble-minded girl,” he reminded his son. “She’s a grown woman who’s exceptionally talented and capable. Which, by the way, is why I hired her.”
“She’s endured an awful lot this last year.”
Bill nodded. “And come through it.”
“I just think if she was back at Forrester Creations, Thomas and Eric could keep an eye on her. Check that’s she’s going okay.”
“Well that’s a very noble thought.”
Liam glared at his father. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It sounds to me like you want to put Steffy back in the same miserable situation she was in before she left.”
Liam waved his hand as though to dismiss the accusation. “I’m with Hope now. You know that.”
“Right,” Bill said bitterly, annoyed at how blind and stupid Liam was when it came to Brooke’s golden-haired daughter. “You’re with Hope but you still want to keep Steffy panting on the sidelines.”
“No!” Liam denied hotly.
“You don’t want her but you don’t want anyone else to have her either.”
“No!”
Bill nodded. “Yes.”
“This isn’t about me, Dad,” Liam said with a terse shake of his head.
“Really? Are you sure?”
Liam glared. “What about you?” he demanded. “Can you say your motives are exactly pure? I know you’ve always had a thing for Steffy. Are you planning to be her shoulder to cry on?”
Bill was not going to dignify that with an answer, no matter how close his son had come to the truth. Liam made it sound dirty and sordid and that wasn’t what it was. He was glad to be giving Steffy a hand up. He’d always admired her and he admired her even more now she was striking out on her own. Yes, there was a spark between them but it wasn’t his intention to pursue that. It was professional suicide and personally—well, there was just something unpleasant about a father moving in on his son’s ex. Even if Liam had been stupid enough to let Steffy walk away.
“I’m not planning anything,” Bill said, his voice steely. “Steffy is here to work. I am here to facilitate that. Don’t go looking for someone to point the finger at over how it all ended with Steffy, son.”
He knew he’d pushed Liam too far but his son’s lack of insight was galling at times. He’d done nothing but string two women along for years, going from one to the other and yet he had the hide to criticize his father’s actions.
Liam slammed his drink down on the desk. “Screw you,” he said, pushing past his father and storming out of the office.
Bill shut his eyes on a sigh as the door slammed. Another moment of stellar parenthood chalked up on the wrong side of the board.
He drained the remainder of his glass and poured himself another.
*
It was actually several weeks before Bill took Steffy out to dinner. She’d worked late every night for a month, even went into the office on weekends, determined to learn and become competent at everything in as short a time as possible. He called in occasionally during the day to check on her and swung by every Friday night to pick her up for their dinner date but she’d declined his offer each time. There was too much to do, to learn, and she refused to socialize when there was work to be done.
But on the fourth Friday night, Bill wouldn’t take no for an answer and even enlisted the help of Sasha to persuade Steffy to leave the office early for once.
“Go,” Sasha insisted. “You’re making the rest of us look lazy.”
Steffy glanced up from her computer, startled. The last thing she wanted to do was get the staff offside. She’d worked her fingers to the bone this last month but only to learn the ropes.
But Sasha was smiling at her. “I’m joking,” she said. “Just go already. You’re going to have a heart attack or a hypoglycemic episode at the very least. Have you eaten at all today?”
Steffy grinned at Sasha. She liked her; she was good at her job and efficient but still had time to cluck around like a mother hen. “I had an apple at my desk.”
“Ooh,” Sasha said rolling her eyes. “A whole apple, huh?” She turned to Bill. “Will you get her out of here before she faints?”
“Right,” Bill ordered. “You heard her. Up. I’m taking you to dinner. No arguments.”
Steffy was about to protest but her stomach chose that moment to growl—a sound that could be heard by her two tormentors standing a good few meters away. She was afraid her libido was growling just as loudly, with Bill lounging in her doorway all big and male and handsome.
Sasha smirked. “I think your stomach has spoken.”
“Fine,” Steffy said. A quick dinner couldn’t hurt. She shut down her computer and gathered the advertising files she’d been looking at. “I’ll take these to read at home later.”
Sasha rolled her eyes at Bill. “You see what I have to contend with.”
But Steffy heard the affection in the older woman’s voice. “What can I say, I have a good teacher,” she said.
Bill chuckled and it went all the way down to Steffy’s toes, and when she brushed past him on her way out of the office, she was conscious of his hand hovering near the small of her back. She knew he wasn’t touching her but it felt like he was, as heat exploded there, rippling out to her hips and down to the backs of her thighs.
“Night, Sash,” Steffy said as the older woman peeled off toward her office and Bill guided her to the elevators.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“To a French restaurant not far from here,” he said as they stepped into the elevator. “I thought you might be missing the cuisine and I want to hear you speak the language.”
Steffy smiled but she was too conscious of them being alone in the elevator for a snappy comeback. His broadness, his sheer masculinity, seemed to shrink the spaciousness to just the air between them and she could feel the heat from his body twisting around her. She could smell the heady maleness of him.
This was why she’d been avoiding having dinner with him.
“I don’t know, I’m probably already rusty,” she joked, clearing her throat of its sudden huskiness.
Bill chuckled. “I doubt it. I think you’re good at everything you do.”
Steffy glanced at him as his chuckle threw fuel on the flames, setting light to her underwear. Every
breath she dragged in seemed filled with him, making concentration difficult. She shrugged. “I try.”
“Everyone speaks very highly of you.”
Steffy cocked an eyebrow. “Been checking up on me, Bill?”
He grinned. “Of course.”
The elevator dinged and Steffy was relieved to be out of the close confines as she stepped into the parking basement. He directed her toward his car, again with his hand just hovering over the small of her back and she was pleased to see he had his own transport this time—something low and black and sleek—and not the limo. At least he’d be too busy driving to touch her, to drag her into his arms again.
Ever the gentleman, he opened her door. Steffy wasn’t sure how she made it inside without pressing her nose into the tanned column of his neck, she was just glad she did, and she took advantage of the few moments alone to pull herself together.
But then he was climbing in beside her and he easily filled the space in the sports car interior and Steffy’s senses were scrambled once more. Man, she had it bad tonight!
Spending a year without male company had clearly not been good for her libido if it was choosing Bill to obsess about.
Thankfully, he didn’t require much conversation as he negotiated the peak-hour traffic and they were soon at the restaurant, having only exchanged a few words.
By the time they’d been seated and ordered drinks and their meals—in perfectly fluent French—almost an hour had passed and Steffy was feeling much more in control.
“French is a very sexy language,” Bill said as the waiter departed.
Steffy’s control faltered. “I suppose. I hadn’t thought about it.”
“Oh come on, Steffy,” Bill teased, “it’s the language of love after all.”
Steffy sent him a weak smile. Love. Did she even know what that was anymore? It had been so long since a man had loved her. “Well, I wouldn’t know,” she said, “I haven’t exactly been lucky in that field.”
Bill nodded, taking a sip of his excellent French Sauvignon Blanc. “Liam came and saw me yesterday,” he said tentatively.
Steffy glanced at Bill over the rim of her wine glass. “What did he want?”
“The usual stuff about how worried he is about you being thrown in the deep end here, how he thinks you’re struggling and how you’d be better off back at Forrester.”
Steffy bristled. “I’m learning, not struggling. He doesn’t think I’m up to it?”
“No.” Bill shook his head. “He knows you’re thriving. He’s just worried I have ulterior motives.”
Steffy’s heart pounded as Bill gave voice to Liam’s concerns. This was it. This was the moment Steffy could confront this thing bubbling away between them, because she was sure he felt it too. She could see it in his eyes, the wicked way he looked at her mouth sometimes; the hover of his hand at her back. He’d given her the perfect opening and instead of feeling flustered around him, unsure of what to do with the heat and the buzz, she could maybe claw back control. Tell him to stop—stop looking at her mouth and lingering too close and undressing her with his eyes.
She cleared her throat. “And do you?”
Bill put his glass down. “I think you’re very attractive,” he said. “I think under different circumstances …”
Steffy nodded. Time to lay down her cards too. “I’m very attracted to you too, Bill, but there are a lot of good reasons why nothing can happen between us.”
“Like me being your boss?” he said. “And your ex-father-in-law and … well … I’m a lot older than you.”
“Yes.” Even though Steffy knew he looked better than a lot of men half his age. “To all of those things. But mainly the first two. I’m loving the job and I think I can be really good at it. I don’t want to screw that up by—”
“Screwing me?” Bill suggested.
“Well … yes,” Steffy admitted. Crude but accurate.
“People can work and maintain relationships, Steffy. Your grandparents did it for decades.”
“True,” she said. “But that’s not the only reason, is it, Bill? If Liam’s suspicion is any indication, I don’t think he would like the idea of his father and his ex-wife together.”
Bill couldn’t believe that after all Steffy had been through with Liam, she was still looking out for him. “You still love him?”
“No,” she said. “But I don’t want to hurt him either. I think there’s been enough hurt between us and I think you and me—that would cut a little too deep for him.”
Bill raised an eyebrow. Liam got to wreak havoc on two women yet it was his feelings that needed minding? “Maybe Liam’s been protected just a little bit too much?” he suggested.
Steffy knew exactly where Bill was coming from but two wrongs didn’t make a right. She slid her hand on top of his. “Oh, Bill, you don’t want to lose him over me. You’ve fought so hard for him in the past.”
Bill nodded, looking down at their joined hands, knowing she was right but wishing things were different anyway. Wishing he could have his cake and eat it too. “Yes,” he murmured.
“Good,” Steffy said, withdrawing her hand. “I think this is the only time we should have dinner together, don’t you? I’m going to get a cab home from here and from Monday we meet only at work, we keep things strictly business, and we don’t see each other outside of Spencer Publications. It’ll be easy enough to do with the crazy hours we both work. We just have to commit to it.” She raised her glass. “Colleagues?”
Bill smiled and raised his too, tapping the rims together. “Colleagues.”
Chapter Five
Another month passed and Steffy was utterly content with her life. Her work at the magazine was fast paced and hectic but she thrived on it, quickly becoming part of the team. Her family had grudgingly come to accept that Forrester Creations was not going to be a part of her foreseeable future and, apart from attending one board meeting, she hadn’t even set foot in the building.
Her relationship with Bill had stayed on an even keel, too.
Their talk at the restaurant that night had done much to clear the air and they’d kept things strictly professional ever since. In fact, she rarely saw him—which was a good thing, because even a glimpse was enough to get her stupid heart pitter-pattering.
She’d also started dating again. There hadn’t been anyone particularly special, certainly no-one she’d wanted to get intimate with, but it distracted her from the fact that she went home to an empty apartment at the end of each day. It felt like a step in the right direction, another step toward making a new life for herself.
It certainly kept her mother off her back.
She didn’t know why, then, she felt the need to rock the boat. But she’d been working at Eye on Fashion for two months and the same things that annoyed her about the fashion channel on television were starting to annoy her about the magazine. Because it wasn’t so much about the actual fashion, it was more about the gossip. Who was with who; who was having an affair with who; which celebrities were seen doing what and with whom in which fashion label; which designer’s children were suing them for something. Blah, blah, blah.
Steffy had been too busy learning the ropes to pay content much heed but now that she knew what she was doing, it bothered her—a lot. Having been the subject of an incredible amount of fashion gossip, it left a bad taste in her mouth.
Did she want to be a party to that?
No, she did not.
So her only hope was to convince Bill to change the focus of the magazine.
*
Steffy knocked on Bill’s door, her nerves jangling. She was more anxious than she had been that first day. Back then she’d been petrified she’d screw up; today she was still petrified she’d screw up but not because she was a novice, but because she was about to suggest something so out of left field she may be sacked for even thinking it.
She hadn’t rung Bill’s assistant for an appointment and she was pleased that the woman who guarded his calenda
r with an iron fist wasn’t at her desk. She didn’t want Bill prepared. She wanted him a little off balance, maybe even a little pleased to see her outside the rigid boundaries they’d set themselves.
Maybe a lot pleased to see her.
His deep, commanding, “Come in,” poured syrup over her stretched nerves, conjuring up a bunch of very bad, very wicked things, and she added turned-on to the mix of feelings churning in her gut. How could he reduce her to a pile of mush with just his voice through the thickness of a fancy solid door?
“Hi,” Steffy said as she stepped into Bill’s office.
Bill looked up from his work and half stood, surprised to see Steffy standing there. Pleasantly surprised. Since their chat at the restaurant, she never made unannounced visits. She looked good. He smiled at her. “Steffy?”
Steffy waved him back into his seat, her heart pounding in her chest. His quarterback shoulders filled out his business shirt to absolute perfection. “Have you got time for me to run an idea past you?”
“Of course.” Bill nodded. He indicated the seat opposite him. “Sit.”
He did that a lot, she noticed, one word commands. Sit.
No, no, no. She gave herself a mental shake as she sat in the indicated chair. She mustn’t think about how long it had been since a man had held her close and rocked her world. That would not be conducive to coherent thought.
Bill waited patiently for Steffy to say something, his eyes trained firmly on her face, because if he let them stray elsewhere they were going to be glued to the way the little buttons on her designer blouse gaped slightly at her cleavage. And that would be bad. “Well?” he said.
Steffy didn’t know where to start now she was sitting here. She’d rehearsed her pitch all morning but it had completely flown out of her head at the sound of Bill’s voice.
“It’s a little left of center,” she started.
Bill quirked an eyebrow. “I like left of center.”
That should have bolstered her confidence but it didn’t. Steffy knew her idea was very left of center.