Forbidden To Touch. JC Harroway
Reid’s request, I’ve done the right thing.
‘Fantastic—it’s all arranged. See you Sunday.’ He leaves, his whistle echoing through the distant offices.
In his wake, a vacuum sucks all the air from the room.
I stand frozen to the spot beside Reid, my mind whirring over what just happened. Why did Reid ask me to go along with Graham’s misunderstanding? And what does all this—Graham’s obvious confusion—mean, not only for his health, but also for my contract to renovate the Faulkner? I flush at the selfishness of my thoughts, my gaze falling to the carpet. I’ve just spent so long picking up the scant pieces after Josh left, I’ve been counting on this contract to finally put a line under my past. To move forward, alone. Stronger. Independent.
Reid shifts beside me, looks down, wariness clouding his stare. ‘Thank you.’ His breath gusts from him in a long exhale, and I have the crazy urge to reach out and comfort him by touching his arm. But touching Reid Faulkner has always been forbidden.
‘What for?’ All I did was gape and smile and pretend I’m his ex-wife.
‘For playing along.’ He scrubs a hand over his face, his eyes suddenly tired, fires off a text and slips his phone into his pocket.
‘I... No problem.’ My mouth opens and closes, the words springing to mind inappropriate in the muddle of my mind. ‘Is Graham...is he okay?’ Reid and I have never shared confidences, given I’m closest in age to Kit, but Graham was always kind to me growing up, even encouraging my career dreams when my own family considered them an act of childish rebellion and mere frippery.
Reid turns to face me, shoulders back and hands slung in his pockets, wariness at the edges of his stare hinting at his vulnerability. ‘He will be,’ he says, shutting down the line of conversation.
Goose pimples prickle along my bare arms. What now? Do I walk away from my deal? Settle, again, for less than I deserve? Forget the contract I worked hard to secure when Graham Faulkner seemed to be a different man?
As I look at the lines in the corners of Reid’s eyes, my heart thumps and my stance softens. Whatever is happening to Graham, it’s taking a toll on Reid.
‘I thought Sadie was your ex,’ I whisper, my chest tight. I’m torn. Part of me wants answers, even though I know they’ll signal the end of this lucrative, hard-won deal. And the other part—the part desperate to prove herself after the Josh debacle—wants to wallow in ignorance and simply start the job for which I’ve been hired. I swallow past the lump in my throat, telling myself Reid’s personal family problems are not my concern.
But I can’t ignore his look of uncertainty any more than I can ignore what this might mean for Graham.
‘She is.’ He clenches his jaw, his mouth a grim line.
Is that it? Don’t I deserve a little more explanation after lying for him, albeit to save Graham from embarrassment?
‘Is he...? He seemed confused. Is it temporary?’
Medication-related? A result of a blow to the head? The Graham I know was so supportive of my company and so enthusiastic for the renovations to the Faulkner.
Reid’s lips press tighter together. I’m clearly not to be trusted with personal information. And that’s fine. It reminds me that, chemistry or not, we’re barely family friends, whatever Graham might have thought when he walked in.
I search for Reid’s earlier vulnerability, but it’s nowhere to be seen. I’m about to speak, to offer some appropriate platitude—clearly something major has happened since I last saw Graham—to tear up my contract and bill him only for the hours I’ve already put in, when he speaks first.
‘I have another meeting now.’ He scrubs at his stubbled jaw with one large hand. ‘I suggest we reschedule for nine tomorrow in the boardroom. Let’s see if we can’t negotiate a middle ground—’ he pins me once more with that hard-to-read stare, ‘—one that, as you said, satisfies us both.’
The way he utters the word ‘satisfies’ brings to mind all kinds of lewd scenarios featuring Reid—not the younger version, irresistible enough, but this older man who no longer intimidates me. I nod, my head still woolly and doubts over our working relationship lingering. But if a temporary illness has befallen Graham, do I really need to walk away from this deal? Won’t he expect the work to continue, regardless?
My mind races through various practicalities—I’ve already employed contractors and secured supplies. I collect my bag and move towards the door, my steps in no way as certain as when I arrived.
‘Blair.’
I turn, but his face is unreadable with the exception of a flare of heat in his eyes, which my erogenous zones latch onto.
He swallows. ‘Thanks.’
He turns away and I leave, every certainty I brought here in crumbs underneath the soles of my heavy feet.
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