Forbidden To Touch. JC Harroway
‘We had a contract.’
Blair
REID FAULKNER’S DECADENT lips thin, but he manages to keep his expression free of the irritation I’m certain he feels. He’s not a man to be side-swiped, his reputation for dominating every aspect of the Faulkner Group well known. But I too have learned a few ruthless skills this past year, although none that can help me with my most pressing question—why does he have to still be so thigh-clenchingly hot?
Within thirty seconds of meeting him again, while I’d drooled at the way he fills his immaculate suit, I’d recalled his permanent air of supreme confidence, every stupid, misplaced and sometimes downright filthy fantasy I’d ever had about him roaring back to pulse-pounding life. Of course, back when I first noticed the eldest Faulkner brother was a bona fide fully grown sex god, he seemed permanently out of reach, and I finally abandoned my long-held crush when he married. But now...? With the way he’s sliding that sexy stare over me, I have the urge to resurrect those fantasies. Funny how eighteen and twenty-eight seemed an insurmountable and naive dream, but twenty-five and thirty-five has...delicious possibilities.
I sit a little straighter, ignoring the way that, despite trying to wriggle free of our deal, he makes me feel a little more invincible. After all, this is business. My first priority. I wait for him to process my bombshell, while my own eyes burn with the pressure of maintaining his searing eye contact.
‘A contract?’ His expression hardens even as his stare lingers on my mouth so I almost feel the brush of his lashes. The cut of his voice—commanding, confident, seductive almost—makes my breath catch and leaves me wondering if I can’t have the best of both worlds. Flex my professional muscles on this deal with an adversary as worthy as Reid Faulkner and explore what I’m pretty certain is a mutual attraction.
And why shouldn’t I?
I’m no longer a besotted eighteen-year-old. Our chemistry, if kept separate from business, needn’t be an obstacle. In fact, the opposite. Now I’m close to nursing Cameron Interiors back to full health, perhaps Reid Faulkner is the perfect reward I deserve...
I swallow and brace my entire body to combat the swirls of excitement twitching my muscles in response to our showdown. My pulse ricochets between my nipples and my pelvis, reminding me of my long year of celibacy, until I mentally slap myself and focus on pumping blood to my brain—the only part of me required for this particular encounter.
I open my tablet and, after a few swipes, offer him the screen for proof, but he bats me away with one large hand, which is big enough to leave me wondering how much of my waist it would circle and if it would swallow my entire breast...
Ignoring my soaring temperature, I clench my jaw with determination. I won’t be dismissed, for all his years of business experience, and he wouldn’t be the first person to underestimate me. As the youngest sibling in a large family, I’m used to fighting to be seen and taken seriously. Even my university professor cautioned me against trying to run before I could walk, to pay my dues at a big, well-established design firm, but I’ve always known I’d rather put in the hours and work hard for my own company, not someone else’s. And if Reid Faulkner thinks I’m walking away from my first major deal since Josh and I parted ways, he can think again.
‘Is there a problem?’ I try not to allow the lurch of my stomach to register on my face—it’s like a roller coaster in there. I secured this contract alone, fair and square, despite the competition. I won’t be side-swiped for a second time.
‘Nothing that can’t be rectified.’ His stare narrows as if dissecting me. ‘But you should know we decided to shelve the Faulkner renovations until some time in the future.’
Panic flutters in my throat but I swallow it down. ‘I wasn’t party to that information.’ I breathe, choose my words carefully, willing to fight but happy to remind him of his professional obligations, despite our family’s connections. ‘And I’ve already committed considerable hours to the Faulkner project. I’ve delayed other work to give it my full attention, as it deserves.’
I don’t add that I’ve funnelled all my energy into secretly rebuilding my decimated business this past year—I won’t be sidetracked by another man, not even a sexy suit who happens to make me feel eighteen again.
‘The way I see it, Reid, we need each other.’ I hold my breath. Even simply saying his name aloud leaves me achy and distracted, and the reminder we’re more than business acquaintances flashes sparks in his eyes. But the bite of his tone puts him firmly back in charge.
‘In what way?’
I hide my frustration behind my neutral facial expression—he’s being deliberately obtuse. ‘You have a hotel in need of renovation, and I have an interior-design business and a contract for those renovations. Plus, my commission is highly competitive—great news for the Faulkner Group. Surely there’s only one outcome here that satisfies both of us.’
I feel the weight of his assessment to the tips of my toes. I can’t work out if his mind lingers on business, where mine should firmly reside, or pleasure, a place I’m lured to every time he looks at me? The shiver of goose pimples along my bare arms tells me I’m struggling to ascertain which I want more, that I’d welcome the change of tack, once we’ve cleared up this misunderstanding.
Chemistry can be indulged or ignored. And the chemistry between us seems to have matured over the years like a fine vintage wine.
At his continued silence, my defensiveness kicks in. ‘Is it an...experience concern? I assure you I’m more than capable of this contract. I’d be happy to provide you with references.’ I should have known he’d underestimate me, see me as someone to be easily ignored and dismissed, just like many others have in my past. But I’m done being naive. No way will I ever put my business in the hands of anyone else. Especially not a man who, physically at least, does it for my poor, neglected body.
Reid narrows his steely eyes. ‘It’s not a question of experience.’
I ignore the way I feel naked under his scrutiny and how much I like it. ‘Good, because interiors are personal—it’s crucial you and I have a close working relationship.’
‘Oh, we will,’ he says on a husky promise that leaves me floundering to guess if we’re still talking about interior design.
He brushes a speck of lint from his trousers, completely at ease. ‘Nothing happens at a Faulkner hotel without my seal of approval. But, as you’ve brought up the size of your company, don’t you think C&L Interiors is reaching a little far with a hotel of the Faulkner’s calibre?’
‘Cameron Interiors. I dropped the L.’
I ignore the jibe I’ve heard before. Yes, I’m young, my company small, but I work hard, even harder this past year. Ambition isn’t a crime. I sit up taller—faking it. I can’t confess, but his reticence is justified—Cameron Interiors isn’t making waves, and, thanks to my hateful ex, who stole all our big clients despite promising we could still work together even though we were no longer a couple, hasn’t grown in proportion to the amount of work I’ve personally invested. All the more reason I intend to walk out of Reid’s sumptuous office with a start date agreed.
‘What happened to the “L”?’ His eyes spark.
Of course, he would ask the one question designed to throw icy doubt on my assertions I’m capable of running the business I’ve taken a year to rebuild single-handed.
I cross my legs, force my facial muscles to relax, showing him I’m here to stay. ‘Mr Lyle left the company. Now it’s just me—better and stronger alone, and, as I’ve already pointed out, competitively priced. So why don’t you let me worry about the details? I assure you that you’ll be happy with the final outcome.’ I ensure my posture matches my words in oozing confidence,