скачать книгу бесплатно
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?
Chapter Three (#ulink_e7c0c072-33f0-525b-838c-c439317e8bc1)
Tilly stood beneath the shower and closed her eyes. Fierce jets of water bounced off her head and shoulders with the sharpness of a million needles. Twelve hours or so ago, she’d been doing the same thing, or trying to anyway under the poor excuse of a shower back home. Except she didn’t have a home any more.
Tears collected inside her eyelids, seeking a way out but Tilly scrunched her eyes tightly shut. Determined not to waste any more tears over Brian, she blinked the moisture back. The cheating bastard wasn’t worth it. Eyes stinging, she turned so the spray hit her full in the face. The powerhouse of a shower was exactly what she needed to wash away all trace of her old life. Dull and ordinary at its best, her entire adult life had been boring and humdrum at its worst. She imagined it running off her in black rivers, merging with her leftover makeup, before swirling down the plughole.
Unable to resist Dean’s expensive-looking toiletries, Tilly scrubbed at her skin with zealous abandon so that she didn’t even smell like herself by the time she’d finished. Finally shutting off the shower, she heard banging overhead and the sound of boxes being dragged across the ceiling. A few muffled curses echoed through the floorboards but then the banging stopped, replaced by shuffling out on the landing before footsteps clattered down the stairs only to come straight back up again.
Her curiosity piqued, Tilly tugged the towel tightly around her then inched open the door. She poked her head through the gap and found the landing empty. With no sign of Dean nor any clue of his activity, she left the safety of the locked bathroom and streaked across the landing. Heart racing, she ran straight into the spare room, slamming the door behind her. She let the towel drop to the floor and raided her suitcase, pulling out her favourite comfort clothes of yoga pants and a tie-front shirt.
After dressing in record time, she scraped her wet hair back into a twist then defiantly secured it with the tortoiseshell clip Brian had always loathed. Less than five minutes after jumping out of the shower, she followed Dean downstairs only to be confronted by the sight of him mid-fight with an artificial Christmas tree.
Almost as tall as him, the green monstrosity filled up the entire corner of the room with Dean on the losing side by the look of it. Not that it had dampened his enthusiasm in the slightest judging from his merrily hummed rendition of ‘Jingle Bells’.
‘Need a hand?’ she asked, struggling not to laugh.
Dean turned and threw her an outlandish grin, undermining her efforts. ‘I don’t suppose you have any body armour in that suitcase of yours?’
‘No, sorry.’ Her giggle leaped out of her throat.
‘Never mind. Now don’t just stand there; this is war.’ He dived back into the heart of the tree with a wild battle cry.
For some bizarre reason, the rakes in the historical romances her mum had always loved sprang to mind – those same ones Tilly had then ‘borrowed’ and read by torchlight at night. Only now did she understand why the heroines swooned at the rakes’ feet, having come face to face with such raw enthusiasm too contagious to resist.
Three hours later and down to the dregs of the second bottle, they high-fived triumphantly then collapsed back onto the sofa. The tree erected and decorated, its lights twinkled away in full multicolour glory despite looking ridiculously out of place in the stylish surroundings.
Her muscles aching from the impromptu workout and too much laughter, Tilly leaned back against the soft leather and admired their handiwork. ‘It’s bloody awful, but I love it.’ She darted a glance at her partner-in-crime but he kept his gaze fixed on the tree.
‘You will stay, won’t you?’ Dean spoke quietly, a hint of nervousness in his tone. He brushed his fingers over the back of her hand and sent shivers down her spine, turning the unfamiliar lightness in her soul into something much more thrilling, much deeper, and much more dangerous. ‘Not just tonight, but for the rest of Christmas?’
Would she?
The idea certainly appealed and given the choice of whom she’d rather spend Christmas with – between Brian, Phil, or Dean – she’d pick the same option every single time. No contest. If nothing else, Dean offered a roof over her head for a couple of days and the chance to forget her problems. It wasn’t like they wouldn’t still be there waiting for her, like a black hole in her peripheral vision, but time out to regroup could only be beneficial.
Perhaps the more pertinent question then was, should she?
Dean waited patiently for her answer, his gaze fixed on the tree. Even after he’d humiliated her all those years before by publicly rejecting her – turning her into a laughing stock in front of all of her friends at her own birthday party – she’d never fallen out of love with him. The damage had already been done. With Dean setting the benchmark, no other man stood a chance of capturing both her heart and her soul. Not even Brian.
Especially not Brian.
Truth be told, she’d gone out of her way to find Dean’s opposite; someone steady and reliable, responsible and financially viable. Basically all the things Phil would approve of but look where that had got her. Doing the safe thing hadn’t worked out for her, so maybe – just maybe – she should start taking some risks again. Dean already had her heart so by that reasoning she had nothing left to lose but if there was even a remote chance of something happening between them, then it had to be worth exploring, surely?
Decision made, she squeezed Dean’s hand and waited for him to turn to her, meeting his anxious gaze head on. ‘I’d love to.’
A beatific smile erupted on his face that warmed her from her head to her toes and everywhere in between. ‘Great!’ With equal enthusiasm, he tugged on her hand, pulling her across his lap then wrapping his arms around her for a hug.
Tilly’s breath caught in her throat but she embraced him back tightly. Drawn together like magnets, she tilted her head up and moved towards him. Dean dipped his head to meet her halfway. His eyes darkened and her heart galloped, his lips drawing tantalisingly near. Impossible to keep open, her eyelids fluttered closed in anticipation and she waited. Expectant. Except nothing happened.
‘I’m sorry, I can’t,’ Dean murmured.
‘What?’ Tilly opened her eyes. So much turmoil swirled in Dean’s gaze, her own pulse spiked. ‘Why not?’ she whispered, raising her hand to cup his cheek.
Dean screwed his eyes tight shut and pulled back from her but then contradicted himself by leaning into her touch. His stubble scratched her palm like fine sandpaper. The most vulnerable she’d ever seen him, Tilly sensed his control wavering. Quite frankly, she’d be a damn fool to turn down the best opportunity she could ever hope to get. Her pulse kicked again and she made her move, tentatively brushing her lips against Dean’s.
Years of longing came to fruition and left her light-headed but it paled in comparison to the intense shudder that ripped through Dean. She did it again, lingering this time. His lips were soft and warm, unyielding beneath hers yet he hadn’t pushed her away. Emboldened, Tilly traced her tongue over his lips, desperate to taste him.
Dean’s spine tingling groan could have been hot-wired directly to her core. Suddenly, he kissed her back, using his lips and tongue to expertly tease hers, over and over again, until her bones melted. A shrill ringing erupted from her handbag and they both jumped. ‘Ignore it,’ he mumbled against her lips, parting them. His tongue traced the fullness of her bottom lip and sought permission to enter.
Tilly could only moan, communicating her agreement by granting access.
Appeased, Dean dipped the tip of his tongue inside her mouth. She’d waited all her life to be kissed like this but, by God, it had been worth the wait. Except now she wanted more. Careful not to break the kiss, she adjusted her position until she sat astride his lap with her legs straddling his hips. She rocked back and forth against him, able to tell just how much of an effect she had on him through her lightweight trousers.
A growl exploded from Dean’s chest and he raised his hand, fisting it in her hair. He slipped his other hand beneath her shirt, spanning her lower back and scorching her bare skin. Dean seized control of the tempo and moved her rhythmically against him.
Tilly panted, unbelievably close to coming, but then her mobile rang again. She broke off the kiss and dropped her head against his shoulder. ‘God damn it!’
‘Do you have to take it?’ he asked, his breathing as ragged as her own, and their chests rising and falling sharply.
‘I better had.’ She lifted her head up to meet Dean’s gaze. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of his flushed cheeks and his eyes, black and full of desire. His ruffled hair tempted her to mess it up even more by running her fingers through the silky strands all over again, but the ringing phone refused to go away. ‘It’s Phil. He’ll only keep on trying until I answer. We’d never get any peace.’
Dean frowned and muttered, ‘I should have known.’ He dropped his hands limply to his sides, releasing her.
‘Just give me two minutes to get rid of him, okay?’ She climbed off his lap. ‘He’s probably checking up on me, making sure I haven’t done anything stupid.’
‘Are you sure you haven’t?’ The phone fell silent and Dean’s words hung in the air, amplified by the sudden absence of any other sound. Something in his tone sent a chill right through her.
Tilly spun around, hoping to see a smile playing on his lips to let her know it was a joke but his expression was deadly serious. ‘Wh–’
Right on cue her mobile rang again.
Dean’s fists clenched. ‘Hadn’t you better get that?’ His voice came out cold and dismissive.
‘Yes, I had.’ She hit the green button and lifted the phone to her ear. ‘What’s the big emergency, Phil?’ she snapped, her voice coming out harsher than she intended.
Two minutes dragged into five and still she couldn’t get rid of her brother to find out what the hell had got into Dean. Sat perfectly still on the sofa, he didn’t so much as glance at her. Conflicted and closed off, he’d shut her out. He appeared to be fighting some internal battle of his own that she wasn’t privy to, but she had a pretty good idea it had something to do with Phil.
As if she’d called Dean’s name, he lifted his head to study her, a question in the arch of his eyebrows. She met his cloaked gaze and searched his eyes but she might as well have been looking at a mannequin. Dean shook his head slowly and climbed off the sofa far more elegantly than she could ever dream of achieving, then started to walk around her.
Aware that if she didn’t do something now, she’d lose him, Tilly lunged and grabbed hold of Dean’s hand. She pulled him to a stop then rose onto her tiptoes to plant a silent kiss on his lips. Caught by surprise, Dean’s smile reached all the way to his eyes. Disaster averted, she put the phone back to her ear. ‘Sorry, Phil, can you say that again?’
Dean chuckled and wandered into the kitchen. The smell of cooking soon reached her nose, prompting her tummy to let out an almighty roar. Phil heard it too, at the other end of the line, giving her the perfect excuse to finally get him off the phone.
