“You’re very unusual.”
“I get told that a lot. I think it’s the hair.”
“Your hair is… unique, shall we say?”
I touch it self-consciously. “It’s like a wild dog. It refuses to be tamed.”
As if on cue, Gus comes back into the office and presses his sun-warmed body against me. “Not you,” I say. “I bet you’re a good boy.”
Gus lies down and almost immediately starts snoring.
“You like dogs?” he asks.
“I adore them. I’d love to get one, but I work all day so it wouldn’t be fair, and anyway my landlord doesn’t allow pets.”
Mack’s quiet for a moment. Then he says, “It’s not just the hair. The rest of you is also pretty exceptional.”
A bubble of laughter rises up in me and bursts forth before I can stifle it. “Sorry,” I say at his amused look. “You’re a billionaire genius with an IQ of 172 and I’m a cleaner. It strikes me as kind of funny to hear you say I’m exceptional.”
“Nevertheless, that’s how I see you.”
He’s serious. “Oh,” I whisper, flummoxed. “Um, thank you.”
He studies me for a long while. It seems to be his way, while he thinks about what to say. I help myself to another chocolate tart. He watches me eat, a slight smile on his lips.
“What are you doing tonight?” he asks eventually.
I look at him in surprise. “Um… cleaning. At another office block.”
“If I were to have a word with Dodie, would you like to come to a party with me?”
I stare at him. “A party?”
“Yeah. It’s at my business club, Huxley’s, on the other side of Albert Park. The owners are good friends of mine and I promised I’d go. But I don’t have a date.”
“Really? Why not?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why don’t you have a date?” I’m genuinely puzzled. “You must have women falling over themselves to get to you.”
“You’d be surprised. I don’t get out much.”
“I don’t believe that,” I scoff. “You don’t strike me as the sort of guy who lives like a monk.”
He grins. “No, I couldn’t claim that.”
“But you’re single?”
“I am.”
“Not married?”
He laughs. “No.” He manages to make it sound as if it’s a crazy question.
“And… you’re really asking me to go with you?”
“Yeah.”