knew she had never met a man quite like him before.
“I’m not getting any more interesting while we wait,” he said.
Startled by his voice interrupting her unfortunate thoughts, she hastily said, “Don’t biographies usually get written when someone’s life is about over? When they’re old and gray and think it’s time to get the good stuff down before it’s too late? You can’t be over thirty-five.”
“Age has no bearing on death.” The words were low, flat.
Beth’s fingers tightened around the book, the hard edges of the cover digging into her flesh. Wow. She hadn’t expected those words, or that lack of emotion. They resounded with emptiness, vibrated with whispers of unspoken discontent. Told her the barrenness was a lie. Life, and death, and everything in between—that was Harrison Caldwell. She inhaled sharply, tipped upside down by his comment. His eyes were chips of black ice and she forced her gaze away, her chest tight.
“We’re done for the day. Come back tomorrow.”
She turned her head and gazed at him. I want to know you more. I don’t want to know you at all.
“What is it?” he demanded harshly.
“I don’t…” Beth watched as his eyes hardened, the impatience in them causing her cheeks to warm.
“If it’s going to take you five hours to produce one sentence, this association is going to become quite tedious. I don’t have time for timidity. Say whatever you’re thinking.”
Anger sparked through her, the words fast and loud as they left her. “I don’t think I like you. You’re rude without being provoked and you act like everything I have to say is a chore for you to listen to.” Her eyes went wide at the unintended confession.
Satisfaction bracketed his mouth as his lips relaxed from their hard line. “Just the silence. The silence I can do without. And I’m your employer. You’re not supposed to like me.”
“I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…I’m sorry,” she finished quietly.
“Don’t apologize either. Goodbye, Beth.”
He got up abruptly, a sick look passing over his features as his face turned ashen. Lurching to the side as if he had no control over his body, Harrison’s legs crashed against the end table near his chair, his palms landing hard on the top of it, a slap of something pliable against something unrelenting. His fingers gripped the sides of it as he stayed hunched over, arms trembling and sweat beaded on his skin.
She was on her feet and to him before her brain realized what she was doing. Beth reached out to help him, not sure what she should do, and also alarmed that she wasn’t already doing something. Her fingers grazed his arm and he jerked away. “Harrison? Are you okay? Are you sick?”
His voice filled the air, a lash of cold, striking words hot against her skin. “Don’t touch me.”
Beth snatched her hand back, fear rushing through her veins, pulsing with her heartbeat. She tried to swallow. A warning of peril swept through her mind, told her to keep her distance. Beth backed up a step. “I’m sorry. I just…do you need me to call someone? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he bit out.
“You don’t look like you’re fine,” she commented wryly, crossing her arms to keep from reaching out to him again.
His head slowly turned and he lifted his gaze to hers. Harrison’s mouth twitched. “I look like shit,” he agreed.
She allowed a small smile. “I wasn’t going to go that far.”
“Don’t try to be nice. It doesn’t do either of us any good.” Inhaling, he straightened and stood motionless, the color returning to his face. “I’m fine,” Harrison said again.
“What happened?”
“Nothing. I got dizzy. It happens. You can go now.”
He wouldn’t look at her and fallacy rang through his words. She didn’t press the issue. Shrugging, Beth said, “Okay. Same time tomorrow?”
Harrison nodded, his gaze refusing to hold hers.
Beth picked up her coffee mug. “I’ll wash this in the kitchen