LITMIR.BIZ

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boots.

      Could the bespoke shoemaker in Italy where he bought his shoes make a pair of moss-green suede boots in Shelley’s size?

      He pushed the crazy thoughts aside. Both of ordering the green boots—and of imagining Shelley wearing them, and very little else.

      Shelley’s helpers were in and out of the apartment within an hour. He wondered if she had so few possessions because she didn’t want them or because she couldn’t afford them.

      He realised he was paying her over the odds for the gardening work. And he didn’t begrudge her a cent of it. A horticulturalist was not the highest paid of jobs, which seemed at odds with the incredible depth of knowledge Shelley seemed to have. Again he thanked whatever lucky chance had sent her to him.

      His only regret was he could not ask her to pose for him. Princess Estella had stalled on him, still missing that final extra detail that might make her viable as the character on which he could base a new game. But he had to put the thought of Shelley posing for him alone in his eyrie office out of his fantasies. Especially when he spent way too much time thinking about her—as a beautiful woman who attracted him, not as a mere muse.

      However, he now had his duties as not only an employer but a landlord to consider. Once she’d had time to settle in, he would go down to the apartment—now her apartment—and see if there was anything he could give her a hand with. That was not making excuses to see her—it was obligation.

      But before he could do so, he saw her heading out—and had to smother a gasp of stunned admiration. She was obviously going horseback riding. Shelley the equestrienne wore tight cream breeches that hugged every curve of her enticing behind, and a black, open-neck shirt that emphasised her slim, toned arms. She wore shiny black leather knee-high riding boots and carried a black velvet riding helmet under her arm, along with a leather riding crop.

      Shelley had mentioned she rode horses as a teenager, jumping over snakes in typical warrior manner. Seemed as if she rode them still. But where? Certainly not around here, just minutes away from the heart of the city.

      Who knew horseback riding gear could look so hot?

      But then Shelley looked good in anything she wore—even the drab khaki. He wouldn’t let his mind travel any further along the path that might have him speculating on how she would look in nothing at all.

      He watched her as she paused to look at the fountain, now under repair, then continued around the corner of the house to where she parked her so-old-it-was-practically-an-antique 4x4 in the driveway. The multi-car garage was filled with his collection of expensive sports cars that rarely got an airing these days.

      But he was not just watching in admiration of how well she wore equestrienne mode. His stalled creativity was also firing back into life.

      Now he knew exactly what was needed for Princess Estella.

      A horse.

      He turned back to his drawing board, his brain firing with so many ideas his hand holding the charcoal could scarcely keep up with his thoughts. As it always did when he was driven by creativity, time seemed to come to a halt as he got lost in the world of his imagination. Hours, days could go past.

      He sketched Princess Estella astride a magnificent white horse with a flowing mane and tail that echoed the Warrior Princess’s glorious tresses.

      But it was still not enough.

      He paced up and down, up and down, coming back to the drawing board again and again. It was good but still not right.

      Then it hit him. Estella was fantasy. Shelley was earthy, warm, reality.

      Shelley rode a horse. But Estella was not bound by human and earthly constrictions.

      Princess Estella would ride a unicorn.

      Again he went back to his drawing board. It wasn’t difficult to transform the horse into a unicorn. He added a silver horn to the centre of its forehead. Made its eyes look less horse, more mythical creature whose gaze gleamed with knowledge and wisdom. Attributes that would help the warrior princess in her epic battles for good.

      This time when he finished and stood back to look at his work he was buzzing.

      Gorgeous Princess Estella with her long limbs and sensual curves was a young man’s fantasy. But it was more than that. He was convinced Estella and her magical unicorn would appeal to female gamers as well. Hadn’t even outdoor-orientated Shelley admitted to playing a girly dragon game?

      He wished he had someone to share his jubilation with. But he had distanced himself from his friends since his bereavement. Only his mother hadn’t given up on him—which never failed to bemuse him as she had scarcely been a presence in his childhood.

      His online colleagues these days were working with him on games that had little to do with entertainment and everything to do with education. They would have no interest whatsoever in Princess Estella and her unicorn.

      It was with Shelley he wanted to share Estella. To let her know how she had inspired him. But he couldn’t. Not now. Not when he had gone this far without letting her in on the secret that she was his muse.

      He went back to work, this time on his computer. The creation of a character was only the first step in the long process of producing a new game.

       CHAPTER NINE

      SHELLEY HAD SPENT both Saturday and Sunday mornings on horseback—the sport she’d loved since she’d been two years old and first begged to be lifted up onto a pony. Horticulture was both her interest and the way she earned her living. Riding a horse was pure pleasure—physical, emotional and spiritual.

      A rented horse at a commercial stable could not compare to the joy of riding her own horse. But she was lucky enough to live not too far from Centennial Park, the inner eastern suburbs park that stretched out over four hundred and fifty acres and had extensive horse-riding facilities.

      She had a deal with the owner of a beautiful thoroughbred chestnut gelding named Flynn that she rode every weekend. Flynn was loved by his owner, who couldn’t exercise him as much as the horse needed, so it worked out well for both of them.

      One day she would have that countryside cottage with enough land for a horse. And a dog. In the meantime she made the best of riding Flynn.

      She didn’t know when she’d get to ride him again on a Saturday now she had committed to working in lieu of paying rent. Most likely she’d saddle up very early before she started work.

      It was worth adjusting her working hours to live in this apartment, she thought, looking around her with intense satisfaction. Yesterday she’d finished unpacking her stuff. She had her priorities right—she’d first unpacked the kitchen things. Not that she’d really needed to—the apartment kitchen was completely equipped with every tool and gadget she’d ever need, and more. This afternoon she’d decided to christen the top-of-the-line oven and cooktop.

      One of the other things she loved to do in her own time was to bake. On the way back from Centennial Park she’d gone shopping and stocked up on everything she’d needed for a bake-fest.

      The oven timer went off and she pulled out the two pies she had baked from scratch. There was something particularly satisfying about making pastry—she got a kick from kneading, crimping edges and forming pastry leaves to put on top. She set the pies to cool on a rack and stood for a long moment critically examining them.

      Should she or shouldn’t she? She had baked the extra pie with Declan in mind. One for him, the other to share with Lynne and Keith. But she’d assured him she would respect his privacy. Would he consider a text to ask him could she deliver a ‘thank you’ pie a breach of her promise?

      While the pies were cooling she showered and washed her hair to get out the smell of horse—she’d groomed Flynn after their ride. She adored the earthy warm smell of the big animals she loved.

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