Free Berry Flavours by Darry Fraser Page B

to a formidable looking man.
    “And which lady is great-grandma?”
    “She’s the regal one third from the left. Esther Beresford.”
    “She is that.” Clancy peered in and focused on a slim dark-haired woman whose striking features would have attracted many a suitor of the day. Or, any day. Classical beauty. She knew Berry was close, caught his scent as if his personal warmth had a signature.
    Berry’s hand came over her shoulder and he pointed at another photo, and a stern looking character seated beside a woman. “That’s Phillipe there with his second wife. We don’t have any pictures of him with Esther. The second wife is Greg’s great-grandmother.”
    “Did Esther die young?” Clancy felt a thrumming on her back. Berry’s heart must be pumping as loudly as hers and it vibrated between them. She breathed in and out deliberately slowly, otherwise she was sure she’d lean back on him and the moment would be spoiled.
    “In her thirties. My grandmother was only a young child, six or seven. She found the photo not long after Esther died and she hid it away. It’s the only reason we have it. After Phillipe remarried there were other kids, other priorities for him and the new wife.”
    He stood closer, but his hand retreated. Clancy turned around and stood just under his chin. She could see the beard stubble, imagine its coarseness under her fingers. Over her body and down...
    His hand slid down her arm.
    Moments stilled and the heat hummed between them, tangible and connected. She didn’t want to move, either to break the spell or to act upon it. But as she looked up the green eyes roved over her face and she had to ask, “Is this a good idea?”
    Berry shook his head once as his hand found hers. “No.” He stared down at her. “Best I get the stuff for your bed.”
    Clancy dropped her gaze to where his T-shirt showed under his shirt. A pulse at his throat was pumping strongly. “Right.”
    Don’t make a mistake here, Clancy. Step away from the man. Get the bedding and run. Run.
    She smiled at him. “Right,” she repeated and let her hand gently disengage his. “Point me in the right direction of some fresh linen and I’ll follow the path back to my room.”
    Berry turned and disappeared for some moments. Clancy took a deep breath and tried to figure the next best step she could take. Be calm and rational and together; or be herself and leap on him with a frightening fervour.
    Be calm and rational.
    He returned with two folds of linen, and his nose screwed up.
    “There’s only one thing to do.” He unfolded them in front of her. “I’m going to load them in the machine and toss them in the dryer here and in about an hour they’ll be fresh. Okay?”
    Reprieve.
    “Okay. Sounds good.”
    “So, stay here, pour some drinks. I’ll put the load on and be back.”
    They were grown-ups, right? They should be able to sit on the settee and bump shoulders, nudge knees and press hands. Or they should be able to stand by the fridge together and laugh at dumb jokes and brush locks of hair from the other’s eyes without feeling there was anything untoward going on.
    They should be able to open another bottle of wine because the first one was consumed without either of them noticing.
    They should be able to go together to the laundry and gaze at the whitegoods doing what they’re supposed to do and return to the settee content the linen would be dry in a very short space of time.
    Each time she chanced a look at Berry he was doing the same at her.
    Then they’d grin, hold hands again, chat about nothing and stare out of the windows into the darkened night.
    She felt like it was a tempest being held in a teapot, and she didn’t want to be the one who lifted the lid and let it out. It might be something she couldn’t control.
    At the same time they heard the alarm go off on the dryer, they both saw the bob and dim of car lights coming on to Berry’s property.
    He glanced at his watch. Nine-twenty.