Forbidden Affair: The Bold and the Beautiful (7 page)

“This is not an appropriate conversation to be having in my apartment.” Where there were no desks. And two beds.

“You think,” Bill asked as he took to prowling around her apartment, “it’s an appropriate conversation to be having at work?”

‘No,” Steffy conceded. “It’s an entirely inappropriate conversation to be having at all, because what you did was entirely inappropriate.”

Bill nodded. “Agreed. But what can I say? The red dress made me do it.”

Steffy glared at him. “This is serious, you know. Half of LA is talking about your dance-floor move.”

“Sorry,” he said, although Steffy didn’t think he looked particularly contrite. “I didn’t think about the cameras being there.”

“Bill Spencer,
media mogul
, didn’t think about the tabloid appeal of his actions? I find that exceedingly hard to believe.”

Bill shrugged. “It’ll get Liam off your back.”

“No,” Steffy snapped, “it won’t.” She picked up her cell and navigated to the list of missed calls, most of them Liam’s, and thrust it at his chest, hard. “He’s been calling all afternoon.”

Bill looked at the names printed neatly on the screen and scrolled down the extensive list. “Steffy, he’s my son and I love him but while you remain single, Liam is going to think he can control you, that he still has some say over your life.”

“So you,
his father
, decided to be the one?”

“Yes.” Bill shoved his hand through his hair. “I don’t know, it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Steffy was about to tell him in minute detail how bad an idea it was but a voice from behind them made her turn.

“Steffy? Dad? So it’s true.”

“Liam.” Bill whirled around to see his son standing in the open doorway, noticing the newspaper he had in his hand, a picture of himself and Steffy locked in a passionate kiss splashed all over the society pages in vibrant Technicolor.

Liam glared at his father then at Steffy. “Please tell me you didn’t spend the night together.”

Steffy blinked at the look of disbelief and disgust on Liam’s face. That look would have killed her once. Would have had her rushing to his side to make it all better. But not anymore.

“What? No!” she denied.

“Can you blame me for asking?” Liam demanded as he advanced into the apartment, brandishing the paper.

“Liam,” Steffy said, keeping her voice calm and low, trying to defuse the situation even though he was making her angry. He had no right to barge in here and throw around accusations.

“It’s not how it looks. I can explain.”

“No! I don’t want to hear anything from you, Steffy!” he roared. “I want to hear it from my father. I want to hear it from the great Bill Spencer. I want to hear him say he’s not sleeping with his son’s ex-wife. With his
ex-daughter-in-law
.”

Bill shook his head. “Go home, son. This is none of your business.”

Liam shook his head and Steffy could see the wildness in his eyes. “She’s my ex-wife,” he snapped.

“And that’s the operative word, Liam—
ex
,” Bill said and Steffy admired his calm. “What she does with her life and who she does it with is none of your business anymore.”

“It’s my business if she’s doing it with you!”

Bill shook his head. “No, son, it’s not. And why do you care so much anyway?”

“I’m always going to care about Steffy,” Liam said. He turned to her and the look on his face would have broken her heart not so long ago. He seemed so confused. “I’m always going to care about where you are and what you’re doing and who you’re with.”

Steffy nodded. “I know. Thank you. I appreciate that, I really do, but Liam—” Steffy softened her voice further—“Bill’s right, none of it is your concern anymore. You don’t have a right to know any of it. To be involved in any of it.”

“I know,” Liam said. “I know. But I’d like us to stay friends. To be able to have a phone conversation or talk at parties or dance, for crying out loud, without it being a … thing.”

“And we will … one day. It’s just too soon.”

Liam took a step towards her. “But Steffy—”

Bill grabbed his son by the arm. “The lady needs some space,” he said.

“What, so you can move in on her?” Liam demanded, shaking himself out of his father’s grip. “You know he uses women, right?” Liam said, turning to face Steffy. “And he’ll use you too. Just ask Katie. He’ll hurt you, Steffy.”

Steffy watched as every muscle on Bill’s face tightened. But Steffy couldn’t let him fight her battles or say something to his son he might never be able to come back from. She was the one who needed to point out the irony in Liam’s argument—not Bill.

“Oh my God,” she said to Liam, shaking her head. “Do you hear yourself?”

“What?” Liam frowned.

“
Bill’s
going to use me?
Bill’s
going to hurt me?” She forgot all about allaying Liam’s fears about her and Bill being an item—there were bigger fish to fry. “Do you have any idea how much
you
used me. How much
you
hurt me?”

Liam reached out to touch her arm. “Steffy—”

“No!” Steffy jerked her arm out of reach. “Don’t touch me. Years,” she said. “Years and years I wasted on you. Wasted while you went between me and Hope like we were … interchangeable.” Steffy was disgusted with herself just saying it out loud. She could hate him for that as much as she liked, but the truth was she’d allowed him to treat her like that. She’d let him use her.

She pushed a hand into her hair. “You were never content unless you had one of us pining in the background for you,” she said. “Plotting and scheming with our mothers to get you back. I flew to the highest heights when you were with me, and crashed to the deepest lows when you went to Hope. Waiting and hoping and praying that you’d choose me for good. That you’d want to be with me only. Just like my mother has always done, hoping my father would choose her over Brooke.”

Steffy scoffed at her stupidity. “You’d think I’d have been alert to the signs, right? But oh no, here I am, repeating the pattern. Well, not anymore,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m not playing anymore, Liam. You’re with Hope. And I’m not going to be used or hurt by you again. I’m not going to be some pawn in this who-can-love-me-more game you’ve got going on.”

“That’s not true,” Liam said hotly.

“Yes, it is.”

The voice startled them all and they turned to find Hope standing in the open doorway.

“Hope,” Liam said, crossing the room to be by her side.

Steffy was pleased to see Hope pull away slightly, causing Liam’s hand to fall from her arm.

“What are you doing here?” Liam asked.

“I followed you,” she said and Steffy had to admire the steel in her voice. “What are
you
doing here?”

“You followed me?” Liam blanched. “Honey there was no need, I told you, I’m in love with you, I don’t want Steffy back. I just came to make sure she doesn’t make a mistake with my father.”

Hope looked at Steffy then back at Liam. “So you don’t want Steffy back, but you don’t want anyone else to have her either?”

“No,” Liam said. “It’s not like that. I just don’t think my father is the right choice for her.”

“That’s none of your business, Liam,” Hope said frostily and Bill shot Steffy a brief look-at-that-girl-go look.

“Well he’s my father and she’s my ex-wife,” Liam said. “So I think it
does
have something to do with me, don’t you?”

Hope shook her head. “They’re adults, Liam, they don’t need your permission.” She looked back over Liam’s shoulder again at Bill and Steffy and, for the first time in a long time, Steffy actually felt sorry for her step-sister—Liam’s indecision had to be hard on her too. She also admired Hope’s courage for putting her foot down, something she’d never done.

Hope pursed her lips as she returned her attention to Liam. “Steffy’s right. You’re still trying to control both of us like puppets on a string.”

“I’m not,” Liam denied again. “I would
never
do that.”

“Do you love me?” she demanded.

“Hope …” Liam reached for her and this time, Hope let him take her arm. “You know I do. You know it’s always been you.”

Surprisingly, the words didn’t hurt Steffy like she’d thought they would. Deep down, she’d known that Hope had always been Liam’s first love but she’d suppressed it, ruthlessly ignored it in her pursuit of him, in her belief that he could love her most.

Of course Liam’s motives for saying it here and now with Steffy within earshot were reprehensible but if he thought they were going to wound her, that it was some payback for being here with Bill, then he was going to be sorely disappointed. She’d come through hell—and survived.

Her days—
her years
—of loving him were well and truly gone.

“Then prove it. Come with me now,” Hope said. “Right now. As far as I’m concerned those two—” she nodded her head towards Bill and Steffy, “—are perfectly suited, so give up on this futile pretense and come home with me.”

Steffy could feel Liam’s conflict from across the room. She knew he was torn between staying to battle it out until he’d worn her down like he’d always done and feathering the nest he had. A nest that, if Hope’s grim determination was anything to go by, wasn’t necessarily a sure thing either.

Go Hope.
Steffy was blown away by her strength. Too often, Hope had played the passive role in their tussles over Liam but, clearly, those days were gone. She was baring her teeth. And Liam was paying attention.

“Of course, I will,” Liam said. “I’ll do anything for you.” And then he pulled Hope into his arms.

Steffy suppressed her skeptical response. How many times had he promised her fidelity, promised her the world? But Steffy didn’t care, she just wanted him gone. Both of them gone. She glanced at Bill.

All of them gone.

Hope looked at Bill and Steffy. “Goodbye,” she said and they both nodded in response.

Liam looked at them too and for a moment Steffy could have sworn he was going to say something, get in one last dig. But Hope pulled on his hand and he followed her out of the apartment without saying a word, without a backward glance.

Steffy watched them disappear, relief swamping her, and if it had been anyone but Bill standing next to her, she may just have leaned against them for support.

“Well,” Bill said after a few moments of silence. “That was a surprise.”

“Yes.”

“About time she grew some balls.”

“Looks like there’ll be no need for any more fake public displays of affection, that’s for sure.”

“Shame,” Bill said and she could sense him looking down at her, could feel him in the stir of her blood and the vibration of every cell in her body. “That could have been fun.”

Steffy stepped away, shaking her head at his persistence. “Goodbye, Bill. Time for you to go too.”

“I know, I know.” He sighed as he ambled toward the door. “Strictly colleagues.”

She nodded. “See you Monday.”

He smiled at her and saluted as he walked out the door and even from halfway across the room it felt strangely intimate.

She didn’t see him on Monday. In fact, Steffy barely caught glances of him for the next three weeks as she worked feverishly on magazine business and her proposal. And then he was away for a week traveling to Europe and Asia and Steffy really breathed easier. Just knowing he was in the building made her nervous. Catching a glance of him was enough to destroy her concentration for hours so knowing he could drop by at any moment always had her on tenterhooks.

But with him gone, she relaxed totally, and became completely absorbed in her work, delving into the advertising figures in her spare time to support her proposal. Steffy hoped the proposal would be finished by the time Bill was back from overseas.

The week went quickly and Sunday arrived before Steffy knew it. It was crazy—she shouldn’t be nervous. The proposal was ready and she’d set up the appointment with Bill’s assistant for first thing Monday. Steffy had worked hard and she was proud of her proposal. What’s more, she knew it was good, knew it could work; knew it was a viable option for
Eye on Fashion.

But Bill’s opinion of her had come to mean a lot and she didn’t want to blow it. She didn’t want him to think less of her.

She was glad it was her volunteer afternoon at Dayzee’s. She was going to be able to put her nervousness aside and lose herself in something else and for that she was grateful. Not that it stopped her from putting her proposal notes in her bag to look at again if she got a chance later.

Steffy was a firm believer in having pitches word perfect and she wanted to be familiar with the figures and all the supporting information so she could instantly answer any question Bill might have, or at least know where to find the answer, pronto.

It was good to be immediately immersed in a busy afternoon at Dayzee’s. Every Sunday, Dayzee opened her coffeehouse to the homeless, serving up free meals all day, and everyone at Forrester Creations took turns volunteering. Steffy did it once a month and always felt closer to her grandmother when she was there, helping a cause that had been close to Stephanie Forrester’s heart.

Usually two volunteers from Forrester Creations worked together with the other staff but given that Hope was rostered on with her today, Steffy was pleased she hadn’t shown. Yes, she was run off her feet what with the numbers of homeless growing each week due to the terrible economy, but she preferred busy to awkward and stilted.

Two hours in, though, Bill swaggered through the door in a pair of well-worn jeans and a snug-fitting black T-shirt and asked for an apron. Steffy, her heart racing a little at his sudden appearance, frowned. “What are you doing?”

“Hope rang and asked me to cover her shift. Sorry I’m a bit late, I only got in from London this morning.”

Steffy couldn’t figure out which part of Bill’s statement was more surprising: that he was volunteering, given that he’d never done so before, or that he’d just gotten in from London but was here anyway, despite jetlag.

Steffy passed him an apron wordlessly.

Bill took it and tied it around his waist. “There,” he said, shoving his hands on his hips, “what do you want me to do?”

Steffy’s gaze was dragged down to his hands. The apron outlined the narrowness of his hips and barely contained his powerful, denim-clad thighs. How was it possible to look that sexy in an apron?

Bill smiled at her. “What’s the matter, never seen a man in an apron before?”

Steffy blinked. Not this man. Not Bill Spencer, media mogul. She’d seen him in a suit. In a tux. Hell, she’d seen him with a lot fewer clothes on altogether. But something so functional should not be so enticing.

“Ever
worn
an apron before?” she said when she realized he was waiting for a response.

Bill looked down at the article in question. “Well, it’s not haute couture.”

“Excuse me, miss, can I have some of that pie, please?”

Steffy dragged her gaze away from Bill with difficulty to answer the woman who had addressed her. “Sure thing.” She smiled and then said to Bill, “Stand there and dish up,” pointing to where she wanted him.

And that was about the most they spoke to each other for the next six hours as they served the steady stream of homeless. Steffy was surprised how easily Bill took direction considering he was the one used to being in charge, but he was charming and affable and chatty with their customers showing no sign of the tiredness he had to be feeling.

By the time Dayzee shut the doors that night, neither Bill nor Steffy had stopped.

“Thanks, guys,” Dayzee said. “You were great.”

“Any time,” Bill said, and it sounded remarkably genuine to Steffy.

Dayzee glanced at her watch and groaned. “Oh no, I’m going to be late for dinner with Marcus and I still have the kitchen to do.”

“Go,” Bill said, waving his hand at her. “Steffy and I can do that and lock up, can’t we?”

Steffy nodded. “Absolutely. Go and have fun.”

Dayzee hesitated. “Are you sure? There are a lot of dishes out there!”

“Of course,” Bill said. “Now scoot.”

Dayzee shot them a grateful smile. “Thank you,” she said then went to fetch her bag from the storeroom in the kitchen before bidding them goodnight.

The place that had been buzzing not that long ago was eerily quiet.

“Alone at last,” Bill murmured.

Steffy shot him a nervous look but he was smiling at her in a goofy kind of way and she relaxed a smidgeon. “Yep, you, me and a thousand pots and pans,” she said as she walked to the kitchen doorway and stood staring at the mountain of dishes awaiting them.

“Very romantic,” Bill said.

Steffy shook her head at him. “Come on, they’re not going to get done with us over here.”

“I think I’m going to buy Dayzee a dishwasher,” Bill said.

“Dishwasher’s no good for the big stuff—it’s much quicker to hand wash,” she said.

“Okay,” he said. “You want to wash or dry?”

“Wash,” Steffy said. With her hands in greasy, dirty water she may be less tempted to put them all over him.

“Right.” Bill rubbed his hands together. “Let’s do this.”

Steffy cleared the sink and stacked up the dirty dishes in order from the glassware through to the pots and then ran the hot water. Bill hunted around for something to dry them with and they were silent for the first minute or so as the clean dishes began to hit the drainer.

“You’re thinking about your proposal, aren’t you?” Bill asked.

Steffy, startled out of her thoughts, didn’t know what to say for a moment.
No, I was thinking about you wearing that apron and nothing else
, didn’t really seem appropriate. “Yes,” she lied. “Sorry, it’s on my mind.”

Or it had been, anyway. But not since he’d walked into Dayzee’s all those hours ago. And right now, with him standing beside her, his sleeve occasionally brushing against hers, his incredible aftershave washing over her, lulling her into a sexual stupor, the proposal was so far away it might as well have been on Mars.

“Why don’t you pitch it to me now?” he said. “We’ve got time.”

Steffy’s hands stilled in the sudsy water. “What?”

Bill shrugged as he looked at all the dishes they had to get through. “I’m not going anywhere for a while.”

She shook her head. “No.” She couldn’t. Not now. Not here. Not with him dressed in an apron, for crying out loud. She needed to keep work at work. They kept blurring the boundaries and it was confusing.

Besides, she needed the written proposal by her side. It was good. Intelligent, comprehensive and balanced. It was her crutch.

“I think I’d rather leave it for tomorrow when my head’s in the game rather than a sink full of dishes.” She looked down at her clothes. “I’m not really dressed for it either.”

Bill thought Steffy should wear jeans that clung everywhere and a T-shirt that barely covered her stomach every day. Sure, those pinstripe suits she wore were very sexy but he liked the whole girl-next-door thing she had going on.

The suits screamed, “Hands-off!”

The jeans said, “Touch me everywhere.”

“Fine by me,” he said, wiping unhelpful images from his mind, grateful for the apron. He picked up a glass and dried it. “What shall we talk about then?”

Steffy felt her heart lurch in her chest. She could hear the suggestion in his words and she fought against the desire to just turn and kiss him. Tear that stupid sexy apron off.

“Tell me about your trip,” she said opting for the safest choice.

So they got through the hour with impersonal business chat and Steffy was grateful to Bill for not pushing it any further. She knew he could be ruthless in going after whatever it was he wanted, so the fact he wasn’t putting any pressure on her was much appreciated.

By the time they were done, Steffy’s hands and fingers were pale white and shriveled and Bill had been through a half-dozen towels.

“Thank you,” Steffy said, leaning against the sink as she reached for the strings on her apron, which were wrapped around her waist twice and tied at the front.

Bill turned so he was also propped against the sink. He loomed large and broad in front of her, the muscles in his chest displayed to perfection in the snug black T-shirt. All he was missing was SECURITY stamped in huge white letters across the front. He was certainly big, brooding and lethal-looking enough to be some kind of bodyguard or working a rope line at a fancy LA club. She wouldn’t mess with him.

Not that she felt physically threatened by him. But he exuded a kind of raw power behind his civilized veneer that was … enticing.

Steffy realized she was staring and she cleared her throat. “I appreciated the extra pair of hands.”

Bill watched the play of emotions in her eyes. They’d gone from their usual blue to a smoky silver. He doubted very much she was thinking about the washing up.

“These hands?” he asked innocently, holding his palms face up between them then bringing them slowly down onto her hips. He gave her a moment to pull away, to object, and when she didn’t, he slid his palms onto her butt and applied a little pressure to bring her hips nearer to his.

Bill was looking at her mouth with total focus. He was going to kiss her—she knew it as sure as she knew the sun would rise in the morning. Steffy swallowed as her insides melted to a useless puddle of liquid.

She licked her lips. Not to be provocative but because they suddenly felt hot, like they were on fire, and she desperately needed to extinguish the flames. Snuff out the desire.

She shut her eyes, reaching for an inner fortitude she’d worked so hard to find during her time in Paris. “Bill, I—”

A noise interrupted her and Steffy’s eyes flicked open. Then the ground jerked beneath her feet. She reached for the sink and for a few moments she had no idea what the hell was happening. Then the ground began to shake some more and the walls began to lurch violently.

“Earthquake,” Bill said, his voice raised over the increasing volume of an angry earth and pots and pans crashing around them.

Steffy blinked. “What?” she yelled.

“Earthquake,” he roared.

Steffy’s heart slammed in her chest as Bill dragged her to the kitchen doorway and pulled her to him. She buried her face in his chest as things jerked and shook and fell around them.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” she chanted into Bill’s chest, covering her ears to block out the sounds of destruction, shutting her eyes tight, waiting for the moment the upstairs floor fell down too and flattened them.

This was it. She was going to die. Here at Dayzee’s, with not even half of her life finished. Without finding someone worthy to love. Without being loved back.

And the wild angry jerking just went on and on.

Through it all she was conscious of the steady thump of Bill’s heart, so much less frantic than hers. She clung to its reassuring beat, trying to tune out the noise and the movement.

She became conscious of the deep murmur of his voice, right near her ear. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

And he did. He was like a bubble of calm in the middle of chaos. Her body was constantly jostled against him as the floor bucked and shifted relentlessly beneath her feet as though it was trying to knock them on their asses, and she leaned into him to ground herself.

When the movement finally stopped, it took Steffy a moment or two to notice—locked as she was in the bubble where she’d shut out everything but the feel of Bill’s arms around her—the steady thump of his heart and the murmur of his voice. His words had changed: “Steffy, it’s okay. It’s okay. It’s over now, Steffy. It’s over.”

He was shifting, pulling on her arms gently, and she realized the ground had stopped rocking beneath her feet. She opened her eyes, pulled her head off his chest. Her hands shook as she pried them away from her ears. Hell, her whole body shook—there was no way she was letting him go any time soon. It was dark, really dark, and her pulse was so loud in her ears she almost thought another earthquake was hitting. “You okay?” Bill asked in the eerie silence.

Steffy nodded automatically even though he probably couldn’t see her and she’d never felt less okay in her life. She wasn’t hurt, just really, really freaked out.

Mild earth tremors were something LA locals lived with as a part of their everyday life. It came with living over the San Andreas Fault. But this?

“That was big—bad—wasn’t it?” she asked.

“Yes,” Bill said and the grimness of his voice frightened her more than what they’d just been through.

Steffy sucked in a breath as the enormity of what had happened hit her. Was this the big one they’d predicted would strike one day? What about her family? Friends? Were they okay?

But she could voice none of those fears as her nose and throat filled with thick dust and she choked on it, her lungs seizing, her trachea spasming as it fought against the invasion. She coughed and coughed, her eyes watering as she clutched at Bill’s shirt.

“The dust should settle quickly,” Bill said. He stroked her back gently as the coughing started to dissipate.

Steffy hoped so as she dragged in another laden breath, her throat protesting. “What do we do now?” she asked.