‘That’s not you; that’s something a turd of a bloke has done to you.’ He saw her digesting this nugget of useless advice and cringed at how trite he sounded.
‘I like that’ she said. ‘It’s true.’ She took a sip of her wine. ‘What do you want to know?’
‘How long have you and Dulcie been friends?’
‘I’ve known her forever,’ she began, and that was the start of him getting to know Carla Mason. In turn, he answered her questions, and by the time they’d eaten their meal, he felt he was beginning to understand her better.
‘I’ve had a great day,’ she said as they set off along Picklewick’s main street, back towards the farm.
‘So have I. We must do this again.’ Even as the words left his mouth, Ashton guessed it was unlikely to happen. She could be gone tomorrow if she spoke to this Anita woman and decided her story was worth investigating.
‘I’d like that. Perhaps you could show me the canal? And maybe we could have a bite to eat afterwards.’
If any other woman had made that suggestion, he would have assumed they were suggesting a date. But this was Carla, so he didn’t, and he had no qualms agreeing as he said, ‘We’ll spot more wildlife early in the morning, rather than later in the day.’
‘How early is early?’
‘Five a.m.’ He chuckled as her face blanched. ‘Patience, the ability to stay still and quiet, and unsociable hours are often the minimum requirements for photographing wildlife.’
‘Yeah, but five in the morning?’ she protested.
‘I’m usually up way before then,’ he reminded her, ‘So it’s second nature to get up early on my days off.’
‘Don’t you ever have a lie in?’
‘That’s what cold and rainy winter mornings are for.’
‘I wholeheartedly agree! There’s nothing nicer than snuggling under the duvet when it’s pitch black and belting down outside.’
Ashton had a vision of Carly’s dark hair on his pillow, and he coughed. Where hadthatcome from? It wasn’t an unpleasant image, but it was hardly appropriate.
The image refused to go away though, lingering in the back of his mind as they negotiated Muddypuddle Lane, and he was more conscious of her than ever. He could feel the heat of her skin as her bare arm brushed against his, and he was acutely aware of the light floral scent she wore and the way the evening sun illuminated the shine of her hair.
Ashton didn’t need this reaction to her, but he couldn’t seem to prevent it. Thankfully, she hadn’t noticed, and when he realised that she was checking out her surroundings with her newly acquired photographer’s eye, he smiled.
‘Ooh, toadstools!’ she cried, veering to the side of the lane and crouching down to peer into the hedgerow.
Ashton followed her and lowered himself onto his haunches. The fungi were beige-brown in colour, quite tall, and the shape reminded him of a witch’s hat.
‘Do you know what they are?’ she asked.
‘Afraid not. My speciality is animals.’
‘I wonder if they’re edible.’ She stretched out a hand.
‘Don’t you dare!’ he cried, nudging her aside.
Unbalanced, Carla wobbled and began to topple, but before she connected with the ground Ashton’s arm shot out and he grabbed her around the waist. Her momentum nearly took him down, and he pulled her towards him. Then his legs gave way, his backside plonked onto the tarmac, with the result that Carla was now sitting in his lap.
Sorry.’ Ashton was mortified. ‘I didn’t mean to—’ He stalled. Her mouth was perilously close to his, and he had the strongest urge to kiss it.
His brain disconnected from his body as his gaze focused on her lips, pink and luscious as they parted to reveal her teeth. And when she ran her tongue over her bottom lip, he found himself leaning towards her, his heart hammering and every nerve ending tingling.
Without conscious thought, his eyelids drifted shut and their lips met, sending a bolt of desire through him. Then she was kissing him back, urgently, frantically, and he wrapped both arms around her, drawing her tight against him.
God, she felt sogood.
His reaction was unmissable and instantaneous, and he let out a groan.
