Christmas Is Cancelled. Aurelia Rowl B.

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СКАЧАТЬ 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 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.

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