‘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