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.
Читать дальше