Lost in You (2 page)

I threw my shoulders back to try and steel myself and that made him smile again. His smile was dangerous – at least to the likes of me. I’d heard of instant attraction, but in twenty-three years I’d never encountered it. I was too busy, too sceptical, too … jaded?

‘I am?’ I cocked my head, caught myself. My job was to exude confidence. To my workers, to Voorhees, that traitorous glass man, and yes, even to the main man himself. ‘I mean, thank you. But this day has not turned out well.’

‘I overheard your conversation.’ He reached out his hand again and I blinked at him, momentarily bewildered, then I noticed he was offering me my phone. Or, in the case of our meeting, the projectile I’d hurled at him.

‘I’m really sorry. This day is very much a bust. Even though the weather would have nothing to do with that …
man
,’ I hissed, my anger returning, ‘coming here to look at the dome. I mean, it’s not as if we were asking him to scale outdoor scaffolding. All he had to do was look and maybe walk his way up the spiral ramp to the upper level but the weather –’

‘Is terribly nasty,’ Dorian said. His voice was soft and his eyes kind.

Now I felt like a heel.

‘I guess I sound pretty callous, then?’ Wind rocked the automatic doors, making them groan. I jumped and he put a hand on my arm. Heat flooded the skin around that hand. It coursed up into my shoulders and my face and I did my best to ignore it.

‘No. Just like a woman who likes to get stuff done. And seeing as you’re handling one of my projects, I very much appreciate that.’

Whew.

‘Thank you, Mr –’

‘Dorian,’ he said. His eyes really were the wildest colour green.

I looked at my feet as if that could distract me. ‘Dorian, right. I really think if no one’s coming we should go ahead and leave. I’d hate for you to get stuck here. It’s not even close to being done.’

A rush of sirens outside caused us both to glance up. ‘I think you’re right, Clover. Can I walk you out?’

‘I need to walk through first,’ I said. ‘Make sure everything’s off. Shut. Locked.’

‘I’ll walk with you.’

‘I can’t ask you to do that,’ I said, turning to head down the main corridor.

‘You didn’t ask me to. Let’s call it boss man’s prerogative,’ he said. Then he chuckled.

‘What’s so funny?’ I wanted to really bite my tongue then. What had caused me to be so cavalier with him? It was none of my business why he was laughing. He had a reputation of being a reformed bad boy, an all-round good guy and a down-to-earth rich kid, but my words had been entirely too familiar.

‘I hate being called the boss man and here I use it as a ruse to take a walk in the dark with a pretty girl.’

‘Oh,’ I said. It was more a puff of air than a spoken word. As we walked, I noticed I felt more than a little lightheaded and, every time he strayed near to me, I had the bizarre urge to reach out and take his hand.

‘Why are you here?’ I asked, unable to squash my curiosity. Surely it wasn’t really to do with me. We passed the two longest sections of mall that branched off from the main entrance. They were dark and partly sheathed in plastic and often, when I was alone, brought to mind those horrible slasher movies. I shook the thought off, but caught him looking at me.

‘I had heard from Bradley that all was going really well. That you were running a tight ship and the workers liked you and that you were even getting around to the stained-glass dome. That you’d called in an expert.’

‘Oh, he’s an expert,’ I sighed. ‘And he acts like one. A bit of a prima donna, if you ask me. But he did the Beltway.’

‘I heard.’

Another Baltimore landmark that sported some serious stained glass. It had started to leak over the years and Voorhees had been called in to repair it. It was how I’d heard of him and seen his handiwork.

‘Anyway, he’s sort of … delicate.’ My foot slipped on a stray tail of plastic sheeting and I slid, almost losing my balance. Almost – but for a strong hand that suddenly appeared at my elbow, and another at the small of my back, to steady me.

My heart gave a crazy little fish flop in my chest. I wasn’t sure if it was from the fear of falling or from his hands on me. I nodded my thanks and just kept walking, ignoring the burn of blood in my cheeks.

‘Well, you handled him well, from what I heard.’

I smiled. ‘I yelled into the phone and then got pissed.’

Watch your mouth, Clover. Be a lady …

‘That was pissed? I get way more pissed than that.’ He smiled at me in the low light. I felt that smile in my stomach.

‘This way,’ I said. My voice was tight and high. I was nervous. Any fool could hear that. And yet Dorian Martin had done nothing at all to make me nervous. Other than be so …
close
to me. ‘Some of the men take their smoke breaks down here. I like to make sure it’s not just locked but chained when the day is done.’ I took a small penlight from my pocket and aimed it at the push bars on the double doors. The way the chains were tangled it was unclear. ‘Can’t tell,’ I muttered.

He followed me, silently, down to the darkest end of the hall and let me push the bars to assure myself that all was not just secure but chained. ‘Good,’ I said.

‘You’re very conscientious,’ he said.

‘Is that a bad thing?’ I asked. It was a serious question. I was often told I worried too much. A habit I seemed unable to break.

‘Not for me,’ he said, giving me a soft touch on the back of my arm as we turned in the gloom. Nothing more than a gentlemanly steer with his hand, but it did strange things to me. Made me feel something I couldn’t recall feeling before.

A brief and vivid image of him kissing me right there, pressing me to the cool, beautifully tiled wall of the corridor filled my head and, when I coughed to focus myself, it burst and flitted away like a rainbow-hued soap bubble.

And then: ‘It means you’re looking out for me.’

‘I didn’t even know you,’ I said. I felt stupid for having pointed that out.

We walked back towards the light and he said, ‘You knew
of
me.’

‘True. Just one more stop and then we can go. But Mr –’

‘Dorian,’ he corrected, looking slightly stern.

‘Right. Dorian, you can go. I really am fine by myself. I’m here all the time. I mean, it’s like I practically live here.’ I laughed. We passed a stretch of tiny eateries. A bistro, a bakery, a gourmet preserves store. I wished they were open – I was starved.

Wind licked at the building so fiercely we heard the huge old structure creak. ‘Let’s finish this so we don’t end up living here,’ he said.

‘Right.’

Just a few more minutes together. We checked the dome to see that all the industrial work lights were off and then looked at the last exit door to make sure it was bolted and secure.

‘Done!’ I said. His eyes were darker in this light, the green less noticeable, his expression unreadable as he studied me again. Had I done something?

‘Good. I’ll walk you back. Make sure you get on the road safely.’

Safe.
How long since anyone besides my grandmother had fretted over my safety? To be honest – brutally so – with myself, I couldn’t remember the last time a man had bothered himself with my safety. Of course, in their defence, it had been years since I’d done anything but casual dating. And you cannot expect a man whom you see once every six weeks or so to fret over your safety.

‘Thanks. I appreciate it.’ My voice did a new and interesting weird thing at the end. I sounded almost like I was about to cry.

Dorian Martin caught it, gave me a quick second glance but then covered with a smile.

Great, not just handsome and kind, but intuitive too. I’d have to remember to keep my big fat mouth shut until I was in my car. Then I could freak out.

* * *

‘I think –’ Outside, the wind ripped my voice away. My skirt was lifted by a stiff blast of wind and the rain suddenly changed direction, dousing me in an instant.

White blouse.

But Dorian didn’t seem to notice because a decorative bench was slowly being blown across the brickwork of the patio. ‘We might have waited too long,’ he yelled.

Another blast of wind and rain and I screamed when more cold water smacked me. I felt like a fool but couldn’t help it.

I had to be positive. This was just a storm. No big deal. Surely the weather people were exaggerating. They had to talk about
something
, right? ‘Oh, I’m sure we’ll be fi –’

With that, the second biggest oak on the property gave a mighty groan. We’d had rain all week already and the ground was soaked. The wind and added rain had taxed the poor thing to its limits. With another gust and another fierce moan it seemed to surrender and down it went, as if in slow motion.

‘I think we won’t, Clover,’ he shouted, taking my hand.

I’d imagined him doing it, but the reality of his big warm hand curling around mine was extraordinary. Even given the bizarre and frightening circumstances, something in me woke up when he touched me.

And then: ‘Come on, Clover. We need to get inside. Fast.’

I hurried in after him, sliding the last foot or so on the wet tile, my carefully chosen outfit now stuck to me. I dressed to say, ‘I’m in charge,’ I dressed to say, ‘Responsible.’ Now my ensemble just said, ‘Drowned rat.’

The automatic doors slid closed and to add insult to injury the lights flickered and failed. For a few heartbeats there was nothing but total silence.

Then my teeth started to chatter.

He didn’t have a coat to offer me. He seemed the kind of guy who would if he had one to give. When he gripped the hem of his fisherman’s knit sweater and pulled it up, suddenly exposing a flat, taut belly, I found myself holding my breath. Then he got the sweater up further and I saw a blue T-shirt beneath it.

‘Here, let’s get this on you. A bit damp but not nearly as damp as you are.’ He tugged the cream-coloured sweater over his head and I let myself ogle him for the instant that his head was totally covered.

His body was lean and firm. He obviously worked out or kept in shape somehow, but wasn’t obsessive about it. I had a fleeting vision of him unbuttoning his well-worn jeans and shut my eyes tight like I was wishing away a monster in the dark. Not appropriate. Not by a long shot. A rich, handsome, nice guy like this obviously would have a female following of epic proportions. He probably had a girlfriend designated for every night of the week. A few for weekends just to keep things interesting.

He handed me the sweater and I stared at it like a dolt. Outside something struck the mall doors and I jumped. My grandmother was alone. Aunt Brani lived next door. She really wasn’t my aunt, she’d just been my grandmother’s friend for over three decades. Surely if I was stuck here she would check in on grandma. She would –

‘… so wet. I can turn my back.’

I blinked at him, the panic that had gripped me letting up just a tiny bit as I saw the concern in his eyes.

‘What?’

‘I said, it probably won’t help to put it on over clothes that are already so wet. I can turn my back.’ He nodded to indicate the sweater I still held dumbly.

‘Oh! Right. Thank you. You really don’t have to.’ I tried to hand it back. He laughed at me.

‘Clover, I hate to break the news to you but your teeth are chattering so hard and loud they’re rivalling a marching band.’

I glanced down at my drenched white blouse. The dove-grey silk camisole beneath it was pretty much visible now, it was so wet. And nipples. Dear Lord, they were so hard and pointed they tented my blouse in a very unprofessional way. As if I could do anything about them. It was something my mother had always said: nature is what she is. No changing her. In the rules of nature, it was cold so my nipples were hard.

I laughed somewhat hysterically at my mental tangent and looked up to find him watching me as I studied my own traitorous chest.

‘Will you?’ I said. My voice sounded shy and awkward. Yet another thing to be mortified about.

He smiled once more and said, ‘Of course.’ Then he turned his back to me and I turned mine to him.

My fingers didn’t want to work the tiny white buttons of my blouse. Cold and wet from our foray outside, brief though it was, they stumbled over the small plastic discs. After only two, I gave up and yanked the blouse over my head. I shivered as the cold seeped into my bones. Something else banged and I let out a little cry. Embarrassing as it was, the sudden intensity of the storm frightened me. Having had a childhood that involved a particularly rattling event, I was on edge in any situation where I felt I was not in control. Loud noises made it worse. All those memories and sensations tried to swell up in me and I quickly tamped them down.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw him turn and glance at me, obviously concerned about the noise I’d made, then he caught himself – probably upon seeing me in nothing but a soaking wet camisole. ‘Jesus, sorry,’ he said. ‘I just –’

‘It’s OK,’ I said, biting my tongue to try and keep my teeth from rattling. ‘It’s OK,’ I repeated and yanked the sopping wet cami off over my head. My hair probably looked like the Bride of Frankenstein but now was not the time for vanity.

My nipples pebbled harder and my breasts followed suit by rushing with goose bumps. Another deep shiver worked through me and finally I managed to tug his huge warm sweater down over my damp skin. I let out an audible sigh.

‘I’m done,’ I said. ‘Thank you. You can turn around.’

When I turned to look at him he was staring at the small pile of my wet clothes, the cami conspicuously on top. He ran a hand through his hair and chuckled. ‘Yeah. Let’s get you some clothes, Clover,’ he said.

‘I have … you gave me this,’ I finished weakly as another series of shivers racked my body.

‘But your skirt is wet …’ He swallowed, looking as if he was almost as uncomfortable as me. ‘And your stockings.’

When he said stockings I felt myself blush. At least the involuntary reaction left me warmer.

‘I’ll be fine. Plus, how the heck would we get anything? Everything is shut up tight.’