He must have thought her an absolute idiot. Mr. Big Shot Private Investigator, nannying the silly journalist on her great adventure. She rested her head in her hands, wondering why she couldn't just wish it all away. Her father had misled her. More than that, he'd duped her entirely. Why did he do it? He obviously had no faith in her as a journalist. That hurt.
As for Sebastian…she had to face up to it, seducing her might have been part of his cover. Even if it wasn't, it was a shoddy thing to do.
When the tube train finally pulled in and she emerged into Harrow on the Hill, Amy had gone from angry to mortally wounded. Grim determination had lodged inside her. She would simply have to point out his gross error of judgment to her father and end the charade. By the time she got into the taxi for the last stage of the journey, she had vowed never to trust her father again. Indeed, she realized, all men had become entirely untrustworthy in her eyes.
She looked up at her parent's house as she climbed out of the taxi. Ever since she’d moved out the two of them rattled around in it, but her mother treated the large, detached house as her castle and planned to see her days out there. Who could blame her, it was in a beautiful spot, a green wooded retreat, and yet it was just over twelve miles from the heart of the city. Amy had moved out when she'd gone to college, but it was still home and coming back to visit felt good, even if today she was visiting under a cloud of discontent.
"Amy, oh how lovely to see you." her mother exclaimed, as she opened the front door. "Now, why didn't you call and say you were coming over?" She threw the kitchen towel she was drying her hands on over her shoulder and lifted her glasses to perch them on top of her stacked hair. She peered at her daughter. "Are you sick, dear? You look flushed."
"I'm not sick." She didn't want to worry her. If she could keep her out of it she would. "I'm just a bit upset. Work stuff. Sorry I didn't let you know I was coming, it was a bit of a snap decision—is Dad around?" She looked over her mother's shoulder and into the house, while she hugged her.
"He got back from the golf club about five minutes ago. Can you stay for some lunch?"
Amy didn't think she could eat anything at all, but she gave her mother a weak smile.
"I'm putting a Spanish tortilla together. It's such a treat having your father at home for lunch midweek. It gives me an excuse to cook."
The familiar ambience of home soothed Amy a mite. When she caught sight of her father standing in the kitchen with a mug of coffee in his hand, a moment later, the warm feeling quickly evaporated.
He was wearing a short-sleeved casual shirt and his golfing trousers and looked a whole lot more comfortable than when he was suited and formal, at work. He put the mug down, his expression brightening when he saw her.
"Hey Trixiegirl, how's tricks?"
It rattled her more than ever that he spoke to her as he had when she was a little girl. "Can't you treat me as if I'm an adult, please, for once?"
She glared at him.
"Sorry, I forget you don't like to be called Trixie any more." He looked at her, as if realizing something was amiss. "Problem?"
"Yes, problem." She dropped her bag on one of the breakfast bar stools then perched on another. Her mother had gone back to her cooking but was watching them as she went about her work, curiosity in her expression.
"The Quentin Edwards job…you told me the deal was I had to have a bodyguard with me."
He glanced away, suddenly shifty.
"Ah, I can see that you know what I came about."
"Bodyguard?" her mother exclaimed. "What on earth were you doing that you needed a bodyguard?"
"Exactly." Amy declared. "I didn't need one, and not only did Dad make me feel incapable of protecting myself on a simple investigation, but by being underhand and hiring a private investigator—without my permission, I hasten to add—he's shown that he thinks I'm incapable of doing investigative work at all, without the prompting of a…a professional."
So much for keeping her mother out of it. Her mum was whisking the eggs very slowly indeed, her attention riveted.
Meanwhile, her dad gained an imploring expression. "Trix, I mean Amy, that's simply not correct."
"Well, if it's not correct, please go ahead and enlighten me about it." She folded her arms over her chest, her mouth pursed, awaiting what was sure to be a stack of excuses.
"It was a potentially dangerous case. You don't know what's happened to Quentin Edwards. I wouldn't send any novice into that sort of set up alone." He sent a darting glance at his wife. "You wouldn't have wanted her to be alone in what might be a murder or kidnap case, would you, Cynthia?"
"Good grief, no." Her mother starting whisking the eggs more vigorously, shaking her head. Her dad gave a brief smile. He'd won over half the audience.
"I knew you wouldn't want a colleague with you. You agreed to the terms, to have a bodyguard."
"But Sebastian is not a bodyguard."
"Ah, but I asked for a bodyguard." He gave a smug smile.
How could he be so sure of himself?
"Mr. Armitage told me he was the only man available, but he was willing to take the job on. Apparently he likes to get back to grass roots on the odd occasion."
Amy stared at him, her mouth open. "But you knew what he was. Why didn't you tell me?"
"It didn't matter, he was hired for security, and the way I saw it…if he helped you out with your investigations along the way, all well and good." He stood there, pleased as Punch with himself, completely oblivious as to why that was completely unacceptable.
"So, what you're saying, in your defense, is that you wouldn't have minded if I'd got the helping hand of a PI?"
He shrugged. "Why not?"
"Because this was supposed to be about me—me and my ability to undertake the job."
"Yes it was, and I gave you the case. I wouldn't have given it to anyone, you know. The normal course of events for a junior would be to go on shadow duty with a more experienced journalist for an agreed period of time." Still he smiled at her, benevolently.
Amy was fuming. Every statement that came out of his mouth made the whole thing worse. He'd duped her, and he thought having Sebastian along might help, which undermined her. Not only that, but it also now appeared he'd done exactly what she had asked him not to—he'd shown favoritism toward his daughter instead of treating her as he would any other hopeful junior. He'd let her sidestep the normal procedures on try-out.
She chastised herself for not having realized earlier. Why hadn't she found out what the normal route for an investigative journalist would be, why had she relied on him to guide her? He'd taken her proposal and forced her to work with it under his terms, his exclusive terms. What would the other journalists think? What did Fiona, who she had to report to, think? Amy cringed, no wonder Fiona had been disapproving. Could it get any worse? Then there was Sebastian, and he must think her a silly idiot. Everyone at work would be thinking what a spoilt and dizzy bimbo she was. In fact, she realized, she was a dizzy bimbo. She really was and she balked at it.
She was about to launch into a tirade of outraged objection, when the doorbell went.
"I'd better get that," her mother announced, putting down the mixing bowl and brushing back a loose strand of hair. "I'm expecting the washing machine repair man." She brushed past Amy, looking at her with a small frown that indicated she wasn't sure who to believe was the injured party.
"Dad, how could you, how could you not have told me all this before now?"
"It didn't interfere with your work did it?"
"Maybe not, but it has now." Voices in the hallway distracted her.
"Well it is unfortunate you found out." He frowned. "By the way, how did you find out?"
"Amy." Her mother emerged back into the kitchen, smiling. "You have a visitor."
A visitor? She turned to look at the door just as Sebastian walked in. She stared at him, disbelief swamping her. He looked as gorgeous as ever, his eyes bright and immediately focused on her as he walked into the room. Dee
p inside, she gave a frustrated sigh. She really liked the guy, they'd been having fun, and yet all the time they had been together…her indignation surged up at the thought of him keeping the real nature of his job secret from her.
"What the hell are you doing here?" she demanded.
"Amy, where are your manners?" her mother exclaimed, shocked at her remark. "Come in, Mr. Armitage. Can I get you a coffee, there's a pot on."
"Call me Sebastian, please."
Her mother simpered at him, obviously taken in by his good looks and his charm. That made it even worse.
"And I'll say yes please to the coffee. Thank you." He nodded across at her dad in greeting. "Mr. Norton."
Mr. Charm himself. Amy felt her lips tighten.
He turned his attention back to her. "I got your message." He looked concerned, and rightly so. She had uncovered his little subterfuge.
"You should have taken it seriously and stayed away," she retorted.
"Please, let me explain." His eyes were dark with concern. He was trying to show his seriousness while he looked deep into her eyes.
She tried to ignore the warm tick that had started in the pit of her belly, the seemingly inevitable response to his presence. He was dressed smartly, for his damned office meeting she supposed, but his shirtsleeves were rolled up and his tie was askew. His hair was messy too. It was a hot day and he looked as if he had hightailed it over, which she guessed he must have done to be so close on her heels. "How in hell's name did you know where to find me?"
"When I got the message I called your office and spoke to Janine. I explained why I needed to see you, urgently. She heard me out and kindly gave me your parent's address." He looked back at her dad. "I hope you didn't mind me calling by, Sir."
"Certainly not, hopefully we can clear this matter up and we'll all be able to get back to our regular schedule of events for the day."
Amy gawped. It felt as if the ground was slipping from under her feet. They were bonding. The three of them were practically ganging up against her.
"Do you take milk and sugar, Sebastian?" her mother interrupted. She was giving him the kind of smile that indicated she approved of him, big time.
"Just milk, thank you." He gave her a charming smile.
"Sweet enough already, huh?"
Amy cringed. Dear god, my mother is only flirting with Sebastian.
"Perhaps we can tempt you to stay and have lunch with us?"
"Mum, no." Amy shouted, horrified.
"Amy, I'm shocked!" She gave her a chastising look. "I know you're upset about this, whatever it is, work problem, but Mr. Armitage here doesn't want to witness you having a hissy fit."
Amy's cheeks flamed.
Sebastian looked at the floor. He'd shoved his hands in his pockets and he was biting his lip, obviously trying not to laugh.
Oh yeah, very funny I'm sure, Amy thought to herself, fuming.
"Let's take this into the sitting room," her father suggested, breaking the awkward moment. "We can sit down and discuss it like civilized people." He gave his wife a frown. "Cynthia," he said, with a warning note in his voice, and pointed at the coffee pot.
Amy glared at her Mother as well.
Parents, you couldn't trust them for a minute.
Chapter Twelve
Sebastian gave the sitting room a quick once over to get his bearings then sat down into the comfortable sofa that Richard Norton had indicated. He wondered why he felt as if he'd been caught necking with the man's daughter and was about to get a good telling off. He shook off the absurd notion and tried to concentrate on Amy.
She was upset. He could see how agitated she was. Despite the minty-colored dress—which looked fantastic, he noticed, and showed off her lovely curved figure and… concentrate, man. You're in a mess here.
He needed a goddamn cold shower whenever he saw her. He told himself he ought to be ashamed. If he could keep his mind off sex for a little while he could have handled it a lot better. Amy certainly didn't deserve to be put in this position, and he didn't want it coming between them. He hated seeing her upset and uncomfortable around him. That had to be gone and he wouldn't rest until it was.
"I was explaining to Amy that you were the only available man for the job." Richard Norton picked up a big black cat that Sebastian had assumed was a cushion and removed it from the winged armchair that was obviously his seat of choice. He set the cat down on the floor and took up the spot himself. The cat gave a languid stretch then sat blinking, looking over at Amy. As if it suddenly realized she was there visiting, it strolled over and started rubbing itself affectionately against her legs.
Sebastian watched the cat's dense black fur flattening against her bare shins, enviously, until he realized his mind was drifting again and he ordered himself to concentrate on what Richard Norton was saying to him.
"I told her you were kind enough to take up the job yourself. However, Amy seems to be under the impression that I hired you to give her some sort of assistance with the investigation aspect of the job, which wasn't the case at all, was it?" He looked at Sebastian expectantly.
Sebastian tried to find a reasonable answer. Whilst everything Richard Norton had said was the truth, Sebastian was now suffering from an immense attack of guilt over the fact he'd spent a good proportion of his time over the last two days secretly doing his own investigations, in the hope he could push some useful information her way. He cleared his throat and turned to Amy, who was sitting at the other end of the sofa from him.
She regarded him with caution.
"Exactly, that's all there was to it. I was hired to act as your bodyguard when you were out on the road undertaking the investigation for your feature, and that's exactly how I took the case on. The fact that I have investigation experience myself didn't come into the contracting of this job at all."
She regarded him with such scrutiny Sebastian had to turn away and direct the rest of his speech to Richard, in case he looked guilty and she picked up on it. "The sort of work I've done for Richard before has been assisting with investigations, yes, but this was something entirely different."
Richard Norton smiled. "You see, darling, there's absolutely no reason for you to think badly of Mr. Armitage, or myself."
Amy harrumphed loudly and Sebastian looked back at her. She'd crossed her arms over her chest defensively. The cat was now standing on its back legs, its front paws testing the cushion beside Amy, while it eyed up her lap.
"The fact the two of you never told me the true nature of your job gives this whole thing a rather underhand tone, don't you think?" She directed her question at Sebastian.
"That really wasn't intentional, I assure you." Sebastian frowned. He had the urge to come completely clean. Now the ball was out and rolling he wanted to get the rest off his chest because he realized he shouldn't have done any investigation without informing her. Now he was in the awkward position of wondering whether to confess the whole thing—which meant taking on board the personal risks it entailed—or whether he should keep schtum about his own investigations and therefore be every bit as underhand as she was inferring he was.
"I can see why you feel the way you do, Amy, and perhaps I should have informed you about my own experience in the field, but I was doing exactly what I was hired to do and trying to be professional about it. I felt that if I'd spoken to you about my own background you may have felt awkward about it, and I wouldn't have wanted to do that."
Her mouth pursed and her cheeks were getting more flushed with each passing second. He could tell this was not going well.
"Oh, so you decided to keep me in the dark instead. You realize that in itself has totally undermined me?" The cat had found its way onto her lap and she ruffled its fur instinctively, whilst glaring at Sebastian. The cat ignored her mood and settled down for a snooze.
"Amy, the sooner you get over this the sooner you can get on with the job," her father interjected and gestured at Sebastian. "You have to admit it's big of Mr. Armitage to even
bother tracking you down here to explain himself, when he is under no obligation to do so as part of his job."
Sebastian looked at her beseechingly, lifting his eyebrows. She surely knew he hadn't come just because of the job and their working relationship, but because of their more personal relationship.
She glanced at him and her eyelids dropped immediately. She was biting her lower lip. Yes, at least she understood that much, which was a small mercy.
"If I were you," her father mused. "I would try to look favorably on Mr. Armitage's skills and take advantage of his presence for the rest of your time together."
The rest of their time together. The remark made Sebastian's mind wander away to images of Amy back in his arms again and he had to haul it back on track.
Amy's head shot up, her mouth opening. "You can't expect me to continue working with him, now that I know?"
She was annoyed, but her remark injured Sebastian's feelings far more than he cared to admit. Was she just upset, or did she really not want to be around him any more? "Of course we can carry on…as before, nothing has really changed."
She didn't look convinced, but he could see her mind was racing. Perhaps she too was thinking over the more intimate side of their time together. Would that sway her? He certainly hoped it would.
Richard Norton shifted in his chair, and the expression on his face assured everyone he was adamant. "You're not continuing to work on a suspicious, possibly criminal investigation, without Mr. Armitage at your side."
Before she had time to reply—which was probably just as well—the door sprang open and her mother walked in with a tray of coffee cups and a plate heaped with scones. "Refreshments," she declared, with a big smile, before she realized the mood in the room was not entirely conducive to friendly banter over a cuppa and a bun. "Oh, we're not still fighting are we?" she asked, as she set the tray down on a coffee table.
"No, we're not," Richard Norton replied, taking the opportunity to clarify. "If Amy wants to continue with this case she has to continue working with Mr. Armitage at her side and that is the bottom line. Now, I understand from Fiona that you are going walkabout with this again tomorrow, is that correct?"
Minding Amy Page 13