Читать книгу Christmas Is Cancelled - Aurelia Rowl B. - Страница 11

Chapter Two

Tilly sat huddled up to Dean on the back seat of the black cab with her suitcase stowed beside her feet. He’d tucked her under his arm so that her head lay against his chest. His warm and surprisingly rough free hand held hers, and the arm draped around her shoulder held onto her so tightly, she might as well have been sitting on his lap.

Utterly electrifying, there wasn’t so much as an inch between them from shoulder down to hip and the more she tried to ignore the tingles, the stronger they got. She didn’t believe for a second that Dean could be as calm and unruffled as he appeared. His nostrils were flaring for a start, but she admired his attempt at control and emulated it so that she could finally stop snivelling all over him.

‘Where are we going?’ she asked, her nose so bunged up her voice came out sounding like the rail platform announcements she’d been subjected to.

‘We’re on our way to my house.’ Dean brushed the pad of his thumb across the back of her hand. ‘I didn’t think you’d want to go anywhere public but we can go somewhere else if you prefer?’ His gaze bored into her head, pulling her own gaze up to glance at him and see his face thrown into shadow by the orange streetlights.

A flicker of apprehension marred his features and her fingers itched to smooth away the worry lines. No way would she be able to stop there though; ever since she’d set eyes on him, she’d wondered how his new clean-shaven jaw would feel if she touched it. Handsome to a fault anyway, Dean had really smartened up his appearance.

Gone were the dark, shaggy tresses that used to hang scruffily around his face and past his chin. Instead, he had a smart yet stylish haircut with his hair swept back off his face but still long enough to run her fingers through. The only things that hadn’t changed much were his amazing eyes, shining bright in the darkness. She didn’t need the light to know they were almost charcoal in colour with flecks of sapphire blue hidden in their depths.

‘Your place is fine. Thank you.’

‘Great.’ He gave her hand a squeeze. ‘It’s not far now.’

Sure enough, the taxi pulled up at the kerbside long before she’d worked out why Dean was being so nice to her. She had no idea where he’d brought her either. They’d left the industrial, urban sights of Manchester behind several miles back and it had been too dark to see much else. Not that she’d particularly been looking; the windows had steamed up so she’d spent the majority of the journey surreptitiously checking him out.

Ever the perfect gentleman, Dean paid the fare then helped her down from the cab. Tilly stepped onto the pavement and got her first view of a row of stone-terraced houses, staggered as they climbed up a steep hill. They looked old, like they’d been there at least a hundred years already.

Dean grabbed her suitcase then led her up to the first house with his arm around her waist. ‘Please excuse the mess, I wasn’t expecting visitors.’ He turned the key then pushed open the front door, reaching inside to flick a switch before blinding her with the bright light. ‘After you,’ he said, gesturing with his free hand.

‘Thanks.’ She’d expected a porch or a hallway once she’d stepped across the threshold but found herself standing inside the front room. Tilly couldn’t help but be drawn farther into the room and ran her hand over the dark leather sofa, soft and cool to the touch. The whole room smelled like him too, masculine and woody.

Dean thankfully mistook her shiver for being cold. He walked to the wood-burning stove, all set up and ready to go with the simple toss of a match.

Lots of natural wood welcomed her inspection, not a hint of chipboard in sight, yet Dean had managed to combine it with glass and chrome. Somehow it worked, with the modern aspects complementing the original features and the age of the property rather than looking vulgar and out of place.

‘It’s beautiful, Dean.’

‘Thanks.’ The smile that tugged at his lips wasn’t your everyday smile. This one lit up his entire face and showed off his teeth, even the very back ones. ‘It’s been a labour of love but I’m getting there. You should have seen it when I bought it, talk about a mess, I had to strip it right back to its shell and start from scr–’

‘You did all this?’

Dean nodded and his smile somehow grew wider.

‘Wow. It’s amazing.’ She knew he’d always been good working with his hands, doing odd jobs for cash even when he’d still been at school from what little she could gather about his past, but this was something else.

‘Would you like the grand tour?’ Dean did his best to appear modest but failed dismally. Tilly swore a hint of red crept into his cheeks making him look more like a child with a new toy, over-excited and desperate to show it off.

‘You bet.’ No way could she possibly refuse him, so she shrugged off her coat then kicked off her shoes. Her stockinged toes sank into the plush carpet and she wiggled her toes but then noticed Dean shucking off his shoes too, except he also removed his socks. The sight of him in full business suit with tanned bare feet took her breath away.

‘Should we start downstairs?’ Far too sexy for his own good without trying, Dean didn’t even seem to realise the effect he had on her but at least she was managing not to stare… or drool… much.

‘Lead on…’ she said, impressed at how calm she sounded considering her stomach had gone all out on perfecting cartwheels and a stampede of elephants was busy trampling across her chest.

A simple two-up, two-down, the ‘grand tour’ didn’t take long but it was clear that Dean had put a lot of work into the house. She shouldn’t have been nearly as thrilled by the lack of femininity throughout, especially in the master bedroom, yet it wasn’t your typical bachelor pad either. It was cosy, yet classy. Comfortable, yet sophisticated. A few girly touches here and there were all the place needed to become her own idea of heaven.

Dean directed her to the sofa. ‘You grab a seat, and I’ll make the drinks.’ He disappeared into the kitchen. ‘I’ve got tea, coffee, wine, or beer?’ he called through the open doorway.

‘Wine, please.’

‘Red or white?’ he asked, reappearing in the doorway with a bottle of each in one hand and two wine glasses and a corkscrew in the other.

‘Um…’ If ever a day called for alcohol, it had to be today. ‘Both?’

Dean grinned and walked all the way into the room. ‘I like your thinking.’ He set down the bottle of red along with the glasses then deftly uncorked the white – no screw-top in this house – and poured out two glasses before handing one to her.

‘Thanks.’

Job done, Dean sank onto the sofa beside her and crossed one leg over the other, his ankle resting on his knee. ‘Cheers,’ he said, accompanying it with a wink that made her heart flutter.

‘Cheers,’ Tilly repeated, chinking her glass against his before taking a sip. The wine tasted like nectar, tap dancing on her tongue. ‘Mmmh… this is good.’ She chased the first sip down with another. ‘I needed this.’

‘I’m glad you like it. I figured white first since it’s chilled, and it’ll give the red time to breathe.’

‘Sounds good to me.’ She leaned her head back on the sofa and closed her eyes. The flames from the stove emitted an orange glow that flickered against her lids while the heat washed over her, coaxing out a deep sigh from her chest.

Despite everything that had happened, she felt peaceful – content – until she opened her eyes and discovered Dean studying her intently. Her stomach did a loop-the-loop. Dean quickly averted his gaze and stared into his glass before taking another sip of wine but she’d seen how his pupils were dilated. She recognised an emotion she didn’t dare label but they definitely weren’t the eyes of somebody only looking out for an old mate’s little sister.

‘Shit!’ Tilly bolted upright, managing to slosh ice cold wine down her front. She set her glass down on the floor then rooted through her handbag for her mobile phone.

Dean watched, his eyebrows raised in question, waiting for an explanation.

‘I need to call Phil.’

‘Oh, I see.’ Dean’s eyes grew colder and his posture tensed. ‘The signal round here is patchy at best, you’re better off using the house phone.’

‘Right, thanks.’ She hesitated, unsure how much she wanted Dean to know. At least on her mobile, she could go outside or into the kitchen.

As though reading her mind, Dean grabbed the digital handset and passed it to her. ‘Don’t mind me. I need to go upstairs and get changed anyway.’

Her gaze fell on his torso and she couldn’t help but laugh. In addition to the patches of mascara and eyeliner she’d already smudged all over him, there was now a rapidly growing wet patch as well. She must have made him jump when she’d lunged for her bag. Set free, the black makeup streaks had grown tentacles and were manoeuvring haphazardly across his chest, trying to camouflage themselves in the smattering of dark hair visible all the way down to the shot of dark fuzz disappearing beneath his waistband.

Tilly couldn’t tear her gaze away from the shirt becoming more and more see-through as each second passed. She prayed her skin hadn’t turned pink as a result of her hot flush – talk about a dead giveaway – and her mouth grew so dry she had trouble swallowing, let alone talking but she had to try. ‘Thank you,’ she squeaked, trying to stop her fingers from shaking. She plucked the phone from Dean’s outstretched hand, being extra careful not to touch him. ‘I won’t be long.’

***

‘Take all the time you need.’ Dean fixed a smile on his face then made his exit. He’d reached the last stair before Tilly spoke into the phone.

‘Hi, Phil, you won’t believe this,’ she said ruefully. Dean froze on the spot, gripped by fear at the thought of her mentioning him. ‘Yeah, problems on the line apparently. They don’t know when it will be fixed but said it’s likely to be a few days.’

He let out a sigh of relief.

Torn between eavesdropping or giving her the privacy he’d promised, Dean forced his feet to climb the last step then faltered. Battle raged inside his brain but his conscience eventually won out. He crossed the landing to his room and sat on the edge of his bed, fiddling with the knot in his tie. If Tilly was supposed to be on a train to Phil’s, that at least explained the suitcase. It didn’t explain her odd behaviour though.

Admittedly she’d always had a crazy streak and a bit of a temper, but she wasn’t usually so erratic. Meek one minute and full of fire the next, Dean got the impression she was trying to be someone else and constantly fighting against her true nature. She’d accused him of going through some sort of makeover, but it was a wonder he’d even recognised her.

When he’d flicked on the house lights, he’d been too stunned to speak and had frantically searched for something to do to buy some time to get his head around the dulled-down version of the girl he once knew better than himself. Dyed brown hair, dark, drab suit… the difference disturbed him. What had happened to the flame red hair? The colourful clothes? Had she had a personality transplant in the years since she’d left home?

Dean sighed and let his head fall into his hands. He could try and psychoanalyse her all he liked, but she wasn’t the only one behaving erratically tonight. Sat beside him on the sofa with her head back and her eyes closed; he’d been spellbound. His pulse stuttered just thinking about how close he’d come to leaning across and stealing a kiss. And the look in her eyes just now, stood there with her skin flushed and her breathing ragged, betraying her attraction to him… Christ, it was a wonder he hadn’t jumped her right there and then.

Time had let him down. He was just as attracted to Tilly now as he’d ever been. Nobody else had come close to making him feel the same way in all the years since, which was pathetic since he’d never even kissed her – their close encounter outside the train station definitely didn’t count – and their relationship, for want of a better word, had always been purely platonic. Mostly because he hadn’t let anything happen between them but heaven knows how he’d managed to keep his hands off her for so long.

Over ten years since had passed since he’d promised Phil to leave his little sister alone. More to get Phil off his back than anything but Phil wouldn’t have let it drop. After months of being ground down, Dean had eventually allowed himself to been brainwashed that it was for Tilly’s own sake, so she could get over her ‘silly teenage crush’.

It didn’t feel like a teenage crush at the time, though. Tilly had been a very mature teenager for a start, and he’d been twenty-one. He’d had feelings for her, too, yet he’d made the promise anyway out of loyalty to his only friend, plus there was the fact that big brother always seemed to be watching.

Phil isn’t here now though…

‘Shit.’ Dean jerked upright then crossed to the window to draw the curtains. What he needed now was a shower to clear his head and it might not be a bad idea to make it a cold one. He quickly undressed, discarding his clothes on the window seat, then wandered to the bathroom.

Tilly’s voice floated up the stairs, not clear enough for him to make out the actual words. Whether it was for the best or not that he couldn’t hear her, Dean still couldn’t decide. He tried to tune it out yet he knew the exact moment the call ended because the house became eerily quiet.

As if a starter gun had gone off, he shut off the water and jumped out of the shower, leaving a trail of footprints in his dash back to the bedroom. His jeans snagged on his wet legs and he cursed, finally getting them done up before pulling a top over his head. He left the bedroom and padded quietly down the stairs.

His pulse spiked at the sight of her stood in front of the window, deep in thought with a frown creasing her forehead, to the extent he forgot all about the creaky step. The sound echoed in the silence and Tilly whipped her head round to look at him, spearing him with eyes so vivid he could see how green they were from the other side of the room. They were wet too. She’d either been crying again or was just about to start.

‘All done?’ he asked.

‘Yes, thanks.’

‘Phil okay?’

‘Yeah, the usual. You know Phil…’

Dean didn’t bother to tell her they weren’t in touch any more. After Tilly had left, they’d drifted apart making him wonder if she’d been the only thing keeping them together. ‘Were you meant to be staying with him for Christmas?’

‘It’s fine, he wants me to go down for New Year instead,’ she said with a shrug, not really answering his question. She broke eye contact first and pointed out of the window. ‘Are those hills over there?’

Smooth subject change… not. ‘Yep.’

‘But we’re only just outside Manchester?’

‘I know. Great, isn’t it?’ Dean joined her at the window. ‘Welcome to the Peak District. You should see the views in daylight.’

Tilly turned away, keeping her back to him. ‘So how come you’re working up here anyway? I thought you hated the north.’

‘It’s a long story.’

‘Well, there’s one and a half bottles of wine left over here.’ To plead her case, she crossed the room to top up her glass then spun around to face him and waved the open bottle in her hand.

Dean gulped; he’d never been a religious man but he prayed to every saint he could think of for assistance. Whether she’d undone her blouse on purpose or whether the buttons had come apart when she’d tried to dry herself off was neither here nor there. Either way, his eyes feasted on the sight of Tilly, standing before him with her top gaping open.

The plunging neckline offered him a perfect view of her ample breasts, concealed only by a sheer pink bra with delicate green buds threaded throughout. At odds with the rest of her outfit, it offered the first sign that the real Tilly was still in there somewhere, lurking beneath the sombre facade.

‘And it’s not like I have anywhere else to go,’ she continued in such a nonchalant, matter-of-fact tone that he might have been fooled had he not been determinedly staring at her face.

Call it divine intervention or pure goddamn luck, he’d seen the way her face had twisted. Pain and uncertainty shone in her eyes before she’d looked away and her grip tightened on the wine glass so that her knuckles turned white. A different Tilly stared back at him less than a heartbeat later. There was a sense of hardness surrounding her and a glint of steel in her eyes, combined with tension in her cheeks and jaw.

This Tilly was on the offensive, ready and waiting for another confrontation. Dean didn’t consider himself a patient man by any means. Ask anyone and they’d tell you he was more of an impulsive, no-nonsense kind of guy. They’d be right too, but he bit his tongue knowing full well that if he pushed her now, they’d only have a repeat of earlier and Dean didn’t much fancy another fight, especially with her looking irresistible.

Any form of passionate outburst could be highly dangerous so he kept his gaze glued to her face and his feet firmly planted where they were. ‘I… I’m a property developer now,’ he said, his voice strained. ‘I came into some money a few years back and it made…’ Come on, he could do this, although maybe he just needed to clear his throat again. ‘It made sense financially, what with the north being cheaper than the south.’ Not to mention the fact he’d always harboured hopes of bumping into her or at least hearing about her somehow.

Tilly lost some of the aggression, but her stance remained guarded.

‘I’ve built up a pretty decent business here now,’ he continued. ‘Made a lot of contacts along the way…’ His voice trailed off. Who the hell was he kidding? He couldn’t do this, not at all. The strain of keeping his gaze above the level got the better of him so that breathing proved a challenge.

‘I thought you said this was a long story?’ she asked, the tough edge audible in her voice.

Dean swallowed and raised his hands to cover his wandering eyes ‘Please don’t be offended…’

‘What the –’

‘I’m enjoying the view immensely but it’s killing my train of thought.’ Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for the rest of him and his admiration verged on embarrassingly obvious.

‘Oh!’ She slammed her glass onto the table with so much force, it almost smashed.

‘Maybe you’d like to pop upstairs and get changed? You’re welcome to use the shower.’

‘Good idea.’ She shuffled past him to get to the stairs.

‘Don’t forget your –’

Tilly took off so fast, he didn’t get chance to finish.

Dean waited for the sound of the bolt sliding across the bathroom door before he grabbed her forgotten suitcase. At the top of the stairs, he hesitated outside the bathroom before knocking.

‘Yes?’ she squealed, the sound coming from immediately behind the locked door.

‘The towels are in the cupboard next to the bath. I’ll put your suitcase in the spare room for you.’

‘Oh, right. Thank you.’ The roar of the shower cut off any further conversation.

Dean dropped off her luggage then went back to his own room and sank onto his bed, trying not to imagine the water cascading over her naked body. Once he’d finally got his mind out of the gutter, it dawned on him how nice it was to have somebody else in the house for a change, especially since that somebody else was none other than Tilly.

He hadn’t realised quite how much he’d missed her and Christmas would certainly be more bearable with her around, assuming he could keep his hands to himself, of course. Her plans had already been ruined, but, maybe with a bit of effort he could make it a better Christmas for both of them?