A Line He Won't Cross

Around noon, Rachel went out with a group of friends to see a movie. Chloe declined their invitation, blaming it on a headache and a need to settle into her new surroundings.

She simply wanted to be alone. And she hadn't expected to see him until dinner. But an hour later, she heard the unmistakable sound of a car pulling up in the driveway.

The front door opened and shut with more force than necessary. The keys rattled against the wood, accompanied by swift, heavy footsteps that went up the stairs.

Chloe stepped out of the kitchen, an apron draped over her clothes.

The living room was quiet. She walked to the window and parted the curtains just enough to see outside the house. He parked his car slightly crooked along the curb, its windows rolled all the way down.

She thought he forgot something important at home. But then she turned and noticed his blazer on the chair.

She picked it up and called out to him. “Uncle Harvey!”

Nothing.

Chloe folded the blazer neatly and went up to her room with it to have a bath.

Twenty minutes later, she was dressed in a pair of lounge shorts and a fitted tank top. She let her hair fall down her back and stepped out of her room.

Harvey was still in the house. She had prepared lunch, and it would be rude not to ask if he was hungry.

She walked down the hallway to his room and found his door was slightly open.

“Uncle Harvey,” she knocked gently, but there was no response.

She pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room was dim. His clothes lay everywhere on the floor, and why was there a magazine on the bed?

Chloe picked it up, astonished by the images as she flipped through the pages. She closed it halfway, unable to continue. So these were the kind of women that caught his attention.

Harvey could have any woman in the world. There was no way he was content with just flipping through pages and waiting for his next excitement.

“Chloe?”

She turned around, book in hand, and met Harvey standing before her. He had a white towel wrapped around his hips, and water clinging to the hairs on his skin.

A thin trail of it slipped from his collarbone and disappeared beneath the towel. Her breath hitched as warmth spread through her body.

Her gaze dropped before she could stop it, taking in his perfectly toned abs and chest. Then she snapped and met his gaze.

“I…” she swallowed. “Um. I knocked.”

She pointed at the door. “It was open. And I didn't hear the shower. I'm sorry. I'll leave now.”

Flustered, she turned to leave.

“Chloe.”

She stopped and faced him once again. “Yes.”

He held her gaze steady as he took a step towards her.

“Please don't,” Chloe whispered without meaning to. Unsure if she was asking him not to come closer, or telling herself not to feel the way she did.

But Harvey was already standing there. Barely an inch away from her. And it happened again. That throbbing between her legs, as she lifted her chin to meet his gaze.

“You shouldn't enter people's rooms without permission,” his voice dropped low.

He took the magazine from her hand gently and stepped back to the bed.

Chloe breathed. “I just wanted to know if you were hungry. I made lunch.”

His jaw tightened. “Of course. I'll join you in the dining room.”

She nodded and stepped back. For a brief second, his eyes dropped as she turned, tracing the length of her thighs before he forced himself to look away.

She closed the door behind her, and Harvey let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

He sat on the edge of the bed, dragged a hand through his damp hair and fought hard against the swelling between his legs.

Whatever was going through his head, this was a line he could never cross.

His phone rang, and the vibration on his nightstand snapped him back to reality. He reached for it, reluctant because he knew the caller. But happy for the distraction it offered.

“Gerald,” he answered, his voice returning to that usual firm edge.

Chloe still stood poised outside the door, listening to his conversation.

“Yes, move the meeting to Thursday,” he continued. “No, I don't care what it takes. Just get it done.”

There was silence for a moment.

Chloe exhaled slowly and stepped away from the door. Her body tingled as warmth spread beneath her skin.

When she made it down the stairs, she kept herself busy with setting the table and dishing the meal for the both of them.

She placed the last fork beside the plate and stepped back to inspect the dinning. It looked odd.

The plates seemed too close to each other; the napkins folded into perfect squares.

Her stomach churned. It looked like a date.

She stared at the table a second longer, then reached forward and shifted one plate an inch further away.

“This is stupid,” she muttered under breath.

“Are we having a meeting?”

“Christ!” Chloe jumped, pressing a hand to her chest. “You scared me.”

Harvey stood a few steps away from her, watching with quiet amusement. He wore a black t-shirt and a pleated trouser.

“I called your name twice on the stairs.”

“I didn't hear you.”

She followed his gaze to the table. “I didn't want it to look weird.”

“It's lunch, Chloe. Not a proposal.” He walked past her and pulled out his chair.

Chloe nodded and joined him at the table. She sat across from him, lifting the lid of one of the serving plates to scoop rice into his dish.

She leaned slightly over the table, the hem of her shorts sliding higher against her thigh as she reached for his glass.

She didn’t need to look to know he was watching.

Harvey swallowed and cleared his throat, turning his face slightly away as though the wall across the room had suddenly become more interesting.

Her fingers trembled, and she tipped the wine glass too far. She knocked over his cup, and the wine spilled on his shirt.

“Oh my God! I'm so sorry.”

Chloe moved without thinking. She grabbed a napkin, stepped closer, and dabbed at the stain on his shirt. It only spread more.

“Chloe,” he said quietly.

She didn’t stop. “I didn't mean to.” Her voice came softer this time.

Suddenly, she realised her hand had stopped moving. Her palm rested flat against his chest, and his fingers closed gently around her wrist.

For a second, neither of them moved. She lifted her gaze slowly to meet his, and whatever she found there made her heart plummet. She forgot why she'd stepped closer in the first place, yet she couldn’t find it in her to move her feet.

The front door opened, and Rachel’s voice rang out from the living room.

“I'm home!”