LITMIR.BIZ

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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

      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

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