A Perfect Cornish Escape by Phillipa Ashley Page 0,8
He held out his arm in mock gallantry, and Tiff swept past him into his sitting room.
The cottage was decidedly not a lair. Simple furniture, mostly scrubbed pine or light oak, an eclectic mix of old and contemporary or re-purposed. In seconds she’d absorbed his possessions and tastes, used to forming an opinion very quickly on what people’s homes said about their penchants and character … or what they wanted you to think about their taste and character. The place was neat and tidy, with quite a few prints of Porthmellow and the sea hung on the whitewashed wonky walls. In fact, the only thing out of place was a pair of black socks abandoned on the coffee table among a stack of magazines about classical music and, unsurprisingly, marine mechanics.
‘Actually, an elderly gentleman called Troy asked me to give you this.’ She handed him the bulging envelope. ‘Something to do with the fundraiser day,’ she added. ‘I’m on my way to visit my cousin and I was going past. He and his wife said it would save them walking up here.’
He took the envelope. ‘Troy and Evie know everyone in this town. Not much gets past them.’ He put it on a dresser by the door. ‘Thanks.’
Maybe she’d lingered a fraction too long on his sitting room. He had the ghost of a smile on his lips by the time she finally spoke again.
‘Would you still like me to …?’ Tiff nodded at the bow tie.
‘Yes, if you wouldn’t mind.’ He handed it to her, brushing her fingers fleetingly. He had nice hands and nails for a mechanic, she thought. Big hands but clean, short nails and instead of engine oil he smelled of a subtle woody cologne that, if she wasn’t mistaken, might even be Creed.
‘I’d better button up my shirt first,’ he said.
‘Probably a good idea.’ She nodded, willing herself to stay cool as those impressive pecs and nipple ring mercifully vanished from sight under the snowy cotton. He fastened the top button and took the tie from her, threading the silk under his collar but leaving the points sticking up.
Tiff wasn’t short herself – at five feet seven she considered herself on the tall side of average – but she had to reach up to tie the bow tie. She’d done many of them, for student mates, colleagues, boyfriends – and Warner of course. The last one she’d tied had been on New Year’s Eve before they’d both set off for a big political bash. She’d been so happy, so in love – and so naive to ever have believed that he might have felt the same way.
‘Are you OK?’ he asked, a flicker of concern in his eyes – or was she imagining it?
‘Yes. Yes, of course.’ She recovered herself and leaned closer to his neck, feeling his warm and minty breath against her cheek. Luckily the tie was long enough, and she secured it first time.
‘It’s a lot easier if you think of it as tying your shoelaces, rather than an actual tie,’ she said, tweaking the ends of the bow until it was as good as she was going to get it. It wouldn’t have done to spend too much time in such close proximity to him and it was with relief that she was able to take a couple of steps back.
‘There you go. Do you want to check it in the mirror?’
‘I trust you.’
She took a moment to study his face, now an unexpected truce had been called between them. It was as tanned as you’d expect, with lines enough to reflect his outdoor lifestyle and perhaps a fair bit of frowning. When he’d shoved the lock of hair out of the way, he’d revealed grey at his temples, though his hair was still thick and espresso dark.
Unexpectedly, her ex, Warner intruded into her mind. She’d felt an instant pull of physical attraction to him when they’d first met, too, although perhaps not as powerful as the one she felt for this stranger. Tiff thought she could be in trouble here, if she allowed herself … but she wasn’t going to do that, again, ever. Letting down her guard was what had got her into trouble in the first place and lost her her job, her home and her reputation.
Letting down her guard was why she was in Porthmellow now, in Dirk’s sitting room, on the way to throw herself on the mercy of her cousin.