Lost in You

by Marsden, Sommer

  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.

  Chapter Three

  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.’

  He grinned at me, the sudden change in expression making him look like a mischievous boy. ‘Oh, the perks of being the boss.’ He extracted a well-worn leather wallet from his back pocket, pulled out a folded sheet of paper and shook it at me. ‘The security code for every store in the place. Bradley insisted I have it. “Just in case.” God bless his OCD-riddled little heart. You need some jeans. Socks. Maybe boots. On me. It’s the least I can do.’

  ‘So, we’re trapped here for a super-storm and you’re going to take me shopping?’

  ‘We have to do something to pass the time.’ When he said that, his eyes went back to the small pile of my wet clothes. His gaze on my unmentionables had me suddenly and inexplicably wishing he would touch me. I thought of the furniture store another hallway over. Right now on display was a magnificent queen-sized bed done up in so-simple-it-had-to-cost-a-fortune white bedding.

  ‘Right,’ I said. I cleared my throat. ‘Where to?’

  ‘First jeans, so that would be …’ He waited, watching me.

  ‘I guess the women’s store near the entrance. What’s it called?’ I snapped my fingers.

  ‘Her, I think.’ He winked. ‘Extremely clever.’

  ‘I think what’s in right now is so starkly plain they can charge a fortune for it. So if a store is named Her, all the hers will go there?’ I shrugged.

  He brushed a stray hair out of my face and I froze.

  ‘I think you’re probably right, Clover.’ His gaze never wavered. He just watched me as I floundered inside, trying to remain calm and not do anything stupid. Like step back wildly. Or that insane laugh I tended to bark out when I was nervous. ‘You’re very clever.’

  ‘I’m glad someone thinks so.’

  He frowned briefly at my self-deprecating humour and then took my hand and tugged me along. But only for a moment. Then he dropped it as if remembering his manners. I missed the touch when it was gone. But this wasn’t high school and we weren’t going steady. This was a super-storm and he was my boss. I’d do well to remember that.

  * * *

  He punched the code in at Her and then bent to roll up the slatted door. Inside to the left was the light switch and he flicked it. The store lit up, looking strangely apocalyptic with all the brightly coloured folded clothes, and fancy mannequins in ensembles and glitzy costume jewellery, but backlit with a dark mall and the sound of an end-of-days kind of wind outside.

  ‘It’s like the end of the world,’ I whispered.

  Dorian nodded, dropping into an overstuffed black chair obviously there for waiting boyfriends and spouses. ‘I know. It’s all a little unnerving. Maybe it will blow over fast and we can go.’

  Another bang outside made me jump and then, when I held my breath and listened, there was a riot of sirens out there. ‘How long is it supposed to last? Not to sound like an idiot, but to be honest, I haven’t really been paying attention.’ I swallowed hard around a sudden rush of fear. ‘I thought they were hyping it up. I didn’t expect … this.’

  ‘Me neither. I wonder if it’ll really last for two days.’

  Two days? I said nothing.

  ‘Now, why don’t you find some jeans and socks, because your knees are knocking.’

  I looked down to see he was right. ‘Sure. I’ll be fast.’

  ‘Take your time, Clover. Pick out what you want. It’s not like we have anywhere to be.’

  My emotions were split when he said that. Part of me seriously concerned about being trapped here. Part of me oddly excited about being trapped here with Dorian.

  ‘At least the power only flickered briefly,’ I said.

  ‘So far,’ he said. I must have made a face because after glancing at me he said, ‘Sorry. Look, Clover, I’m sure it will be fine. I promise you we will be fine. We’re in this together.’

  Had a man ever said that to me? Oh, I remembered – no. Never.

  Chapter Four

  ‘Not those?’ he asked from that overstuffed chair.

  I eyed the jeans in the three-way mirror and sighed. ‘Noooo, not these. How can it be so hard to find a pair of jeans in this place?’

  But it was. These were way too low. My hipbones and the small swell of my belly popped over the top. The zipper was only an inch long. What the hell were women thinking with these things? Why wear pants at all? I snorted and quickly covered my face.

  ‘You OK?’

  ‘I am.’ I unbuttoned them and pushed the denim down to pull off. Not only were they way too low cut and way too tight, they were so snug around the calves I feared falling over and braining myself on the changing-room door.

  Then Dorian would have to come in and get me. As I lay there, unconscious and unattractive, tangled in stolen jeans while the super-storm raged on. I whimpered before I could catch myself.

  ‘Are you sure you’re OK?’ He sounded both amused and concerned.

  ‘Yes. Just trying not to trip over since I’m stuck in these things. I will go with the next pair, I swear. I mean, beggars can’t be choosers, right?’

  ‘I can help you if you like,’ he said. Was his voice closer? It sounded closer.

  The skin along my spine rose up and tingled. I was covered in goose bumps and my pulse jackhammered in my head as I kicked the jeans free.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I said. I had never sounded more unconvincing.

  ‘Kidding … kidding.’ He chuckled. Then: ‘Mostly.’

  The surge of lust in my body was undeniable. What if I peeked over the door and said yes. Please come help me, Dorian. I’m stuck in my pants.

  I smiled at myself. Shook my head. Pulled on a different pair of faded overpriced jeans.

  Or what if I just said yes. What if I said, I haven’t had sex in a million years and the last time wasn’t that good and I know you’re rich and I’m not rich, I am in fact just a worker bee for you, but you seem so nice and down-to-earth and God, you are so damn handsome and …

  I sighed audibly as I zipped up the jeans and they were perfect. Not too tight. Not too loose. Not too stiff or too constricting. Just right.

  ‘Was that a happy sigh?’

  ‘I think I found my jeans.’

  ‘Let’s see then.’

  My internal ramblings about luring him into my arms reared up to taunt me and I found my face was so hot that when I touched my skin it felt like I had a fever. I pushed the door open and froze when the lights seemed to dim, then flickered in earnest, even went out for a second before coming back on.

  ‘Jeeeeesus,’ I said.

  ‘It’s OK. Most of the place is fitted with backup lights. They’ll pop on if we lose power.’

  ‘I need to call home soon,’ I said, suddenly remembering that this was not just fun in the mall with a hot guy. I had to check on my grandmother and I had to … what? That was it. I had to check on my grandmother.

  ‘Clover?’

  My head snapped up, I was rubbing the leg of the brand-new jeans the way I did when I got anxious. I forced myself to take a deep breath and focus on his pleasant voice. And his intent eyes as they took me in.

  Instead of feeling self-conscious in that moment, I felt so … sexy.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘It’s OK. I think the main objective was to get you into dry clothes so you didn’t get sick. Now that you’re … dressed, we can do whatever it is you need to do.’

  ‘Surely you have to call home too.’

  He chuckled. ‘Not really. My mother is
in Mexico. My siblings are God knows where. There’s no one for me to call home to. Unless you count Kimmie and Tyler.’

  ‘Kimmie and Tyler?’

  ‘The house staff. They are like family,’ he said, smiling. ‘So probably later I will call and check on them. But I have a feeling they’re OK.’

  ‘My grandmother’s eighty-two,’ I said quickly. ‘Lives alone. I help … I help her,’ I finished feebly. It always seemed so insulting to my one and only beloved grandparent to say, ‘I help care for her.’ I did but, truth be told, she helped care for me too.

  ‘Why am I not surprised by that information? You seem to be a phenomenon at caring for people. Your grandmother, your workers … your boss.’

  His smile was friendly but it was mixed with something else. Something I’d seen before but usually ignored. Interest.

  I cleared my throat, stepped totally free of the dressing room and held his sweater up just enough that he could see the jeans. ‘See? Just right.’

  He took way longer to look than I’d anticipated. His eyes worked slowly from the top of me to the bottom and I felt my body wanting to shift and move because it was like being touched. Every moment his gaze was on me felt like he was sliding his hands along my body. I clenched my thighs where I stood and immediately regretted it. It did nothing but send a rush of blood between my legs, and extra sensation there was the last thing I needed.

  At least without a participating partner.

  ‘They are just right.’ His voice remained the same volume but something in it had changed. It was a palpable sensation, the shift in the mood between us.

  ‘I should get a sweater or something. And give yours back –’

  Dorian held up a hand. ‘I like it on you. It suits you, Clover.’

  ‘Socks,’ I said softly.

  ‘Socks,’ he grinned. He waved a hand at a whole wall of froofy hosiery and then bins of socks. ‘I think you have a few choices.’

  He’d think me silly. All this luscious hosiery to choose from and I was going to go right for the bins of tall striped socks. I had a bit of an obsession. When I wasn’t dressed for work I wore the tallest, wildest, most colourful socks imaginable. And if I was going to stumble around inside a shopping structure during a big storm, I was going to be comfortable. Even if Dorian Martin thought I was silly.