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old folks like me call it, a regular phone.’
    I finally hung up and pulled my hair back, twisting it tight. I had no rubber band to hold it so the moment I let it go it sprang back, a mass of wild curls prompted by the rain.
    ‘Busy?’
    I shrugged. ‘Aren’t you busy? You’re always in the papers.’ I toed the seam between the dark-red floor tiles.
    ‘I do a lot of charity work. To make good on my wild youth and …’ His eyes went back out to the storm. Always watching. Always aware. He was more than met the eye. ‘I do a lot of it to humour my mom since my dad passed.’
    ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I read about that.’
    Dorian nodded once, a sharp gesture. ‘Thank you. I was a constant disappointment to my dad. I think I’m trying to make up for it now.’
    ‘I don’t know how – I mean, I can’t see you as disappointing.’ I looked away. ‘Not that it’s my place to say,’ I tailed off.
    ‘You’re a person, Clover. You don’t have a
place
. You can say whatever you like.’
    I took a deep breath. ‘How about some shoes for me?’ I felt awkward saying it but I wanted to change the subject.
    He nodded and reached out for my hand before catching himself. Then he shook his head and smiled, letting the hand drop to his side. ‘Sure thing. I bet you’d look stunning in some knee-high brown leather boots.’
    ‘I really don’t nee–’
    ‘Clover?’
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘I’m a very busy man
trapped
here with you.’ He grinned at me on the word ‘trapped’. ‘Let me get you some boots. It will amuse me. Keep me occupied.’
    This time, I was the one to stick out my hand. My heart pounded when I did it. He looked surprised at the gesture but quickly recovered and took my hand in his.
    ‘OK,’ I said. ‘But only to keep you occupied.’

Chapter Five
    ‘That didn’t take long,’ Dorian said with a laugh.
    I gazed in the mirror at the tall, brown riding boots. ‘No. It didn’t. I adore boots. I have a bit of a …’ I let my words peter out, coughed to clear my throat.
    ‘A bit of a what?’ I could sense him smiling though I wasn’t looking at him.
    ‘A bit of a fetish,’ I said in a rush. ‘Not that I have to wear boots to have sex –’ I bit my tongue, cutting myself off before I could groan with embarrassment. ‘I mean … my God, why did I say that aloud?’
    ‘To make my day?’ He leaned against the wall and his eyes did another sweep of me. Head to toe, hovering right where one would expect a man’s gaze to hover. I was getting used to being assessed by Dorian Martin. Not only was I getting used to it, I was starting to appreciate it. The flex and tremble in my belly and the sudden need to shift my stance and squeeze my thighs together were clues.
    ‘I’m glad I can amuse you,’ I said.
    ‘Not just amuse. You intrigue me too. You care for your grandmother and run a tight ship and seem to take responsibility very seriously. Not to mention you seem uncomfortable being the centre of attention.’
    I nodded, feeling quite uncomfortable just then. ‘True, true, true. Though taking care of my grandmother is no biggie because she watches out for me too. Since my mom –’ I shook my head at the mention of my gran and my mom. Tears were building in my eyes and I blinked hard to keep them down. The bizarre day was doing strange things to my emotions.
    I rushed on, ‘As for taking my job and responsibility seriously, how could you not? I mean, who wouldn’t?’
    He raised his hand. ‘Me for one. Why do you think I’m trying to redeem myself now?’
    ‘Oh – I’m –’
    ‘No need to be sorry. It’s a true story. I was a – what do they call it? – an incorrigible minor and now I’m not. Now I’m trying to be … a man.’ He waved a hand at me. He plucked a pair of buttery leather boots from a perch and idly turned them over. ‘What size do you wear?’
    ‘Eight and a half,’ I said, my tongue suddenly sticking to the roof of my mouth.
    ‘Will you try these on