LITMIR.BIZ

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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.

      Tilly hit the off button and stowed the phone in her bag. She entered the kitchen to find Dean stood at the cooker with his back to her. Oblivious to her arrival, he reached out to pick up chopped peppers and onions in one large handful then tossed them into a frying pan. ‘I’ve turned it off now,’ she said, raising her voice to be heard over the loud sizzle.

      ‘Oh, okay.’ Dean picked up a wooden spoon and stirred his creation, releasing an incredible aroma to tease her taste buds.

      ‘Something smells good.’

      ‘Penne della casa Deano. I hope you’re hungry?’ He finally turned around to face her, his face slightly flushed from the heat of the stove.

      She opened her mouth to answer but her belly let out another loud roar beating her to it.

      Dean smiled and nodded towards the table, now fully laid. ‘Grab a seat, it won’t be long.’ He’d certainly kept himself busy while she’d been stuck on the phone to Phil; there was even a bowl of freshly cut crusty baguette in the centre.

       Phil.

      Could he really be a factor in Dean’s switching moods?

      Tilly crossed the room then sank onto a chair. A barrage of questions ambushed her head, matched by a flood of mixed emotions in her heart. She snatched up a chunk of bread, picking out crumbs one at a time to give her hands something to do.

      ***

      Dean dumped the pasta into two bowls, not caring about the splatters on the counters for once.

      Phil had done it again. A further demonstration of his uncanny ability of knowing when something was about to happen with Tilly. Dean had no doubt whatsoever about what would have happened without big brother’s interruption. The only question was whether they’d have made it to the bedroom or not – probably the latter – but now he’d never know.

      Annoyed at himself as much as Phil, Dean grabbed a bowl in each hand then turned towards the table. Tilly was sat bolt upright, staring into space again, with her brows knitted together and her mouth tight. Her fingers pecked at a lump of baguette like a bird, turning it into a hollow tube. His feet turned to lead and his step faltered.

      ‘Penny for them?’ he asked.

      Tilly yelped, startled from her reverie. She tilted her head up to look at him and the despondent look in her eyes vanished, replaced by a bright spark. Her lips parted and she dazzled him with a smile. Whatever troubled her, it seemed unlikely that he could be the source.

      ‘Oh, it’s nothing much,’ she said. ‘I was just thinking about Phil.’

      ‘Right.’ Dean resisted the need to squirm for fear of slopping pasta in her lap and plonked the bowls roughly onto the table.

      ‘Thanks, this looks great!’

      ‘So is he okay about you spending Christmas with me?’

      Tilly hesitated, her loaded fork raised halfway to her mouth. A guilty flush crept into her cheeks and she made a great show of looking down at the food. After an agonising pause, she shrugged then thrust the fork into her mouth so she physically couldn’t say any more.

      A prickle of terror laced with excitement raced along Dean’s spine. ‘He doesn’t know you’re here, does he?’

      Her cheeks reddened even more and she avoided his gaze. ‘Mmmh, so good,’ she moaned, swallowing down the forkful then chasing it down with another with great gusto. If she did it with the intention of distracting him then it worked.

      Watching Tilly eat was crazily seductive and Dean couldn’t help imagining the sounds she might make if he ever got to make love to her. With his resolve crumbling and big brother’s radar down, there was every chance Dean might be about to find out. Not trusting his voice, he followed her lead and began wolfing down dinner.

      The meal passed in relative silence, the odd bit of small talk, but she didn’t offer any more clues about what had happened to her and he was too flustered to ask. Their bowls lay empty, mopped clean with the bread, and Dean cast a glance at the clock.

      ‘Bloody hell!’ He jerked back into his seat. ‘It’s after midnight already.’

      ‘Really?’ Tilly followed his gaze. ‘That would explain why I can’t keep my eyelids open.’ She turned back to him and smiled sleepily. ‘Do you mind if I go on up to bed?’

      ‘Not at all.’

      ‘Are you coming too?’

      ‘No, not yet.’ The later he could put off going to bed, the better. Christmas Eve was his worst night of the year, closely followed by Christmas Day. ‘I’ll clear up here first.’

      ‘Oh. Let me give you a hand,’ she said, stifling a yawn.

      ‘No, you’re okay, I’ve got it covered. Besides, you’re my guest.’

      ‘You’re sure?’

      ‘I’m sure. Just don’t go getting all excited thinking Father Christmas has arrived if you happen to hear me out on the landing when I come up to bed.’

      Tilly laughed and the sound wrapped itself around him like comfort blanket. ‘Right, I’ll try to remember.’ She climbed out of her seat to leave but then she paused beside him and leaned down to kiss his cheek. ‘Good night, Dean.’

      ‘Good night.’ Dean listened to her footsteps all the way to the top of the stairs. A door closed and he let out the deep breath he’d been holding.

      Even stripped of makeup, Tilly’s natural beauty outshone all of the women he’d dated. If that’s what you could call the women who liked to collect him as a trophy on their arm. They never

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