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and moved quickly back into the living area.
    “There’s a small bedroom and bath in the back,” Dorian said.
    “It’s bigger than it looks.”
    “We use it as a guest house. I stayed here for a while—before I moved upstairs.” She heard the sadness in his voice.
    Meesha stood next to the sofa, whining. Morgan turned. The dog was staring at the space between the sofa and the bedroom. “What is it, girl?”
    “Meesha,” Dorian called. “She just wants to go out.” He walked over to the door, pulled it open, and stepped outside.
    She followed him. “It’s lovely. Thank you for the tour.”
    He looked at her from beneath hooded eyes. His jaw was set, as if he wanted to say something, yet forced himself to remain silent. The discomfort between them escalated.
    She looked at her watch. “It’s been a long day. I think I better be heading out.” She hurriedly took several steps toward the shop. “I think I’ll stop at the bed and breakfast tonight. We can talk more before I go home tomorrow.”
    “No.” His voice was sharp.
    Morgan jumped.
    “I mean,” he carefully modulated his tone, “we have a lot to talk about. The cottage is freshly made. Stay here tonight. We can discuss things tomorrow morning and make some decisions.”
    “I don’t know.” She looked back at the cottage. The lights played through the windows and into the gardens. It was the most inviting little house. Plus, he would be inside the shop with a garden between them. Maybe one night.
    “If you don’t mind?” She was still unsure. He didn’t look thrilled that she was staying, although he’d just insisted. “I didn’t come prepared to stay. I don’t have any clothes.”
    “Although you are more slender, I think Melissa has some things you can wear.”
    “Oh, I couldn’t.”
    “Why not?”
    She shrugged. What was one more thing to feel awkward about?
    “Besides, you have to have dinner.” Dorian opened the door to the shop and waited for her. Again, the perfumes from the shop assailed her senses.
    “Let’s go down to Abbott’s,” he said. His tone sounded lighter. “They serve a wonderful dinner. Then you can come back here and get a good night’s sleep.”
    “I’ll let your driver know you’re staying,” he added, finalizing the decision for her.
    She watched as Dorian walked toward the front of the shop. The yawn she’d been fighting overtook her. When she opened her eyes again, he was surrounded by spikes of colored light. She squinted, shook her head, and rubbed her eyes. A normal Dorian opened the door, stepped through and pulled it closed behind him. She took a deep breath. She must really be tired.
    In a few minutes, he was back. “I told him we’ll call when you’re ready to leave.”
    “Let me freshen up and we can go,” she started toward the back door.
    “Use the powder room here. I’ll run over to the cottage and close up. I left the upper part of the door open. I’m always forgetting that.”
    ****
     
    Fifteen minutes later, they walked the few blocks to Abbott’s in an awkward silence. He didn’t say anything and she was too tired to carry the conversation. A young girl, who seemed to know Dorian, smiled adoringly up at him and seated them next to a window overlooking another garden. This garden was not nearly as opulent as the one behind the shop, but it made a beautiful dinnerscape. A fountain rose out of a small pond. Water bubbled up and over, falling back into the basin. Trails meandered around the pond and disappeared behind the building.
    Dorian smiled at the young woman and proceeded to order for the both of them. The atmosphere had a calming effort on him. Once he lost the hostility, he became the perfect host. Morgan watched him as he talked about the shop and the group of people who frequented it. His eyes brightened and he leaned forward, smiling as he shared a story. His animation captivated her. It was obvious that he cared deeply for the people in this town. As he talked,