The Billionaire Boss's Bride(47)

‘You know you have! You’ve barely said a word all day! And after I slaved over a hot stove cooking up Christmas lunch for us!’

‘Poor Lucy,’ Tessa said unsympathetically. ‘Awful having to take care of yourself for a change, isn’t it? Not to mention, take care of me as well!’

‘I was just joking, Tess.’

‘Well, I’m not. I’m tired and my head hurts and I want to go to bed.’ She debated whether she should just go for it and inform her sister that the headache would still be ongoing in the morning so she could squash any idea of her trudging over to the Diaz place for Boxing Day frivolities.

‘Okay,’ Lucy said hurriedly, ‘but I’ll get you some painkillers and I have something here…’ She fumbled in one of her pockets and extracted a small silver object, which she handed to her sister. ‘It’s a whistle,’ she explained sheepishly. ‘No single girl is complete without one.’

Tessa took it and turned it over in her hand. ‘I know what it is, Lucy. I’m just wondering what I’m supposed to do with it.’

‘You’re supposed to blow it every time you need me.’ They had reached the bedroom and Lucy turned so that the sisters were facing one another. ‘Just in case I’ve not got round to saying this, Tess…I’m really grateful for everything you’ve done for me since Mum and Dad died… and…well, all the stuff you’re still doing now. I know I’ve been hard work in the past…’

Some of the frozen ice in Tessa’s heart melted. Or maybe just got redistributed to the ice block weighted against Curtis.

‘I’m so used to seeing you up and about in control of everything that…it’s been salutary to know that you can be as helpless as anybody else…’

‘What do you mean helpless?’ Tessa feverishly scanned back to how she had behaved throughout the course of the day. Quiet, yes, but had she come across as helpless? Had she been that transparent? She felt her face blanch, which increased Lucy’s level of sibling concern, and she found herself gently propelled into the bedroom and onto the bed.

‘Well, ill, you know…’ Lucy said awkwardly, looking across from where she was rummaging in her sister’s drawer for a nightdress. ‘Not physically able to do the caring thing that you normally do so well.’ She handed the nightdress to Tessa, unable to resist commenting on the baggy nature of it.

‘I like baggy,’ Tessa said, allowing some help with the process of getting undressed and then lying back on the pillows once she was in the baggy, thigh-length nightie with its Tigger motto.

Already sensitive to the unfolding nightmare between Lucy and Curtis, she mentally added a postscript to this statement. She liked baggy but men didn’t. Men liked women like Lucy, sexy women who wore sexy lingerie. Not that her sister favoured the kind of lacy jobs that were touted as sexy. More little strappy cotton vests and very brief briefs, which were perfect at tantalisingly showing up every inch of skin.

‘So what did you think of Curtis?’ Tessa asked, not meaning to but unable to help herself. She noticed the brightness in her sister’s eyes when the name was mentioned, as though someone had lit a lightbulb inside her. Just the way she had felt whenever he was around, Tessa thought painfully.

‘Very dishy.’ Lucy pretended to sigh but her eyes were still bright and excited when she glanced at her sister. ‘Don’t you think?’

Tessa shrugged. ‘He’s all right, I suppose, if you go for that kind of thing.’

Her heart clenched painfully even though her voice was perfectly modulated, even dismissive. If Lucy ever found out about the two of them, she would be appalled, but Tessa was quite sure that Curtis wouldn’t breathe a word. Even a fool would know that to spill those particular beans would be the death knoll of any burgeoning relationship and Curtis was no fool. Not by a long shot.

‘It’s not just the way he looks.’ Lucy looked seriously at her sister. ‘I mean, he’s good looking enough, but…he’s…well, I just get the feeling that he’s one of the good guys…’

Which shows how savvy you are when it comes to members of the opposite sex, Tessa thought. She closed her eyes, feigning exhaustion, and was pleased when her sister immediately took the hint.

The headache she had pretended now really did feel as though it was coming on. Her temples throbbed and her eyes were hurting from unshed tears. She finally drifted off to sleep with snatches of overheard conversation providing a rich foundation for a series of disturbing, disjointed dreams in which she pursued a faceless couple who disappeared out of reach whenever they came within touching distance.