Lost in You
Trapped inside a luxury mall during a violent storm, small town girl, Clover Brite, is thrust into the arms of international playboy Dorian Martin. Lightning strikes inside the building as well as outside…Clover is the site manager for the renovation of the Baltimore Rotunda and first meets the owner, Dorian, when the 'storm of the century' traps the two of them inside the luxury mall. Upscale stores surround them and all are available at the end of Dorian's keyring, and though money doesn't impress her much, they begin to fall for each other.Too aware of the differences between them and struggling with angst from her childhood, Clover flees back to her small town world. Dorian follows in hot pursuit. But will Clover realise that what happened that stormy night could lead to a future?
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Lost in You
Sommer Marsden
One glance at the stained-glass dome told me the sky had greyed further. There was no way to judge actual sunlight or the weather itself, but I could definitely tell it had darkened.
‘Hey, pretty lady! You sending us home early? What’s the occasion?’
I was already grinning when I turned and started towards Mario. One of the few overseers of labour I trusted to take care of business. ‘The glass man –’ I twirled my fingers at the overhead dome and smiled ‘– he likes to work in private.’
I shrugged to show him I understood how silly it seemed.
‘He’s sensitive?’ Mario cocked his head and winked at me.
A laugh burst free and I nodded, hoping against hope that Marcel Voorhees had yet to arrive.
Wind whipped outside making the large automatic doors creak. All entrances to the Rotunda were sealed tight but for this one. The place was deserted for renovations. Renovations I was in charge of – a fact that made me reel from surprise daily.
It was a big job. A big deal.
‘Better for you to get home early,’ I said, getting closer to Mario and his men. Don was a short, dark man with a thin moustache and dark, dark eyes. Mitchell was a college boy, tall and broad – the term ‘corn-fed’ fit him to a T. They all grinned at me and I grinned back. ‘This weather is supposed to get nasty very fast.’
‘What about you? You’ll be OK?’ The good humour faded from Mario’s eyes and genuine concern showed.
‘I will. I’ll stay safe.’ It felt like a lie. More wind made those doors creak and my stomach filled with a twisting nervousness. I worried about my little house, my drive home … most of all my grandmother.
‘You do that,’ Mario said. ‘If you need anything –’ He patted his cellphone to finish the thought.
‘Got it.’ I smiled at him and made a shooing motion at them all. ‘Now go. Go home early. Or go to a bar and have a beer.’ I levelled a finger at them. ‘A bar close to home. That way you can walk if this thing hits us full-on.’
The weatherman had predicted a storm of the century. A monster of a storm that could ‘bring the state to its knees’. I was doing my best not to dissect the morning news or the nervous energy it had triggered in me.
‘Yes, ma’am.’ Mario gave me another worried glance. Then his face became jovial and he pointed a finger at me. ‘How come you don’t marry me, chica?’
A blush crept up my cheeks. I felt it blaze a heated trail. ‘Oh, that might have something to do with that lovely wife of yours who brings you lunch a few times a week. And the cutie-patootie kids that are in tow when she does.’
Mario smacked his head, making Don laugh and shake his head at his boss. ‘Oh, yeah. Them. Still, you need a good –’
I waved my hand again. ‘Yes, yes, a good man. I’ll let you know when that magical man appears.’
Mario’s face turned serious again. ‘You’re a good person, Clover. He’s coming for you.’
They all waved and went off into the severely overcast day. I watched the automatic doors bump and grind in a silly little dance number. More wind, more creaking, but hey, if you were going to be caught somewhere in weather like this, a place like the Rotunda was the place to be.
I glanced up at the brickwork, the high ceilings, the fancy stores darkened during remodelling. It wasn’t hopping with business the way it had been during my childhood. At the moment, in fact, it was as quiet as a tomb. But it was sturdy as hell and I’d be fine. Just me and the demanding stained-glass expert.
‘He’d better be good,’ I muttered. ‘I lost a half day’s work from everyone else to suit his loner needs.’
With that, as if on cue, my cellphone rang.
I moved around near the shuttered stores to try and pick up better reception. The cell service in the Rotunda was spotty at best on the average day. Something that was on the list to figure out but hadn’t been a priority.
‘I’m sorry … Hello?’ I practically yelled.
The voice came in a bit better by the automatic doors so I took up residence there, feeling the late October wind lick at my stocking-clad legs as it bled through the cracks. I shivered and tried again.
‘Hello? This is Clover Brite. Can you speak up, please?’
The voice cracked and cut off repeatedly and I managed to make out ‘Voorhees … wind … work in … conditions.’
‘Mr Voorhees?’ I shouted.
Jaggedly an answer made its way through the cellphone.
‘Yes … Ms … to know!’
