"Fiona, hi, it's Amy Norton here." She injected her voice with much more enthusiasm than she currently felt.
"Ah, Amy, I was just wondering where your copy was."
Amy shut her eyes and forced herself to smile, imagining she was standing in front of Fiona's desk and had to give the right impression. She could picture Fiona tapping her red talons on the desk expectantly, like an uptight headmistress waiting for an explanation from a deviant schoolgirl.
"I'm afraid I've hit a technical glitch, we've got a power cut at the hotel." She pushed back her shoulders. "I'm going to have to get to the nearest town and fax it to you." A gaping cavern of silence yawned open at the other end of the phone. "I'm heading out with it now." Amy paused, waiting for any sign of confirmation. Still nothing. The cavern was getting big enough to fall into. She tried to resist the urge to babble, to fill the silence with sound. A flicker of annoyance charged her body. Talk about making you feel uncomfortable. What had been a feeling of panic was fast turning into anger.
"Fiona. I'm sorry about this but–"
"You've got one hour, that's it. If it's not on my desk by eleven o' clock we run without you."
"Thanks, Fi—"
"Don't thank me, just get it done." The line went dead.
Amy turned her phone off with a jabbing digit, glaring at it. "And a good day to you too."
A modicum of politeness wouldn't have gone amiss. Did the woman have no compassion? If it had been Janine she'd have teased her and offered support, but it wasn't Janine, and that was the point. It was a whole new ball game and Amy felt as if she was playing it blindfolded. She only knew half the rules. For the first time she wished she hadn't badgered her father into giving her the feature. He'd been right. It wasn't the usual route. Her enthusiasm had got the better of her and she'd picked herself the hardest path, as usual. She threw the phone on the bed, still glaring at it.
"Amy?"
"Sorry." She found a smile for him.
He held out her shoes and her handbag.
"Oh, what a total hero you are." She winked. "Right." She snatched up her printed copy. "She's given me an extra hour. We've got until eleven. Let's find somewhere we can get this fax sent."
They raced out of the room and down the stairs.
The woman on reception was marginally friendlier than the imperious little upstart who had greeted them the evening before. She apologized for the inconvenience and she did have a suggestion.
"Head toward Thirsk. You'll see a general store on your right hand side. The owner has a generator and a fax machine. Even if his power is out you should be able to send your documents."
"Thanks. Come on, we'll have to make it quick." Sebastian urged her on.
She snatched up her bag and her printed copy and marched out alongside him. "I was hoping for a lucky break on this job, what a joke."
"We've got time, we'll get it sent."
"I wish I had your faith."
He held the Land Rover door opened for her and she climbed in. When he took the driver's seat he reached over to pull her seat belt on, which she had ignored. "You certainly are having your adventure aren't you?"
"Well, I suppose so. I hadn't thought of it like that." He was right, to some extent, but dodging Fiona's snide comments wasn't the sort of adventure she had hoped for. She glanced at him as he revved the engine and set off down the private lane toward the main road. He was the real adventure. Mr. Sebastian Armitage was every bit the adventure she'd secretly craved.
"It was what you wanted, an adventure, wasn't it?" He was teasing her again.
She threw him a dirty look, but he was smiling at the countryside ahead. He hauled the Land Rover out of the lane and onto the main road. She hoped he knew where he was going.
"Yes, I did want an adventure, but I also wanted to find facts along the way and produce a relevant report." The gauge on the speedo was rising rapidly. She glanced from it to the clock next to it, and bit her lip.
"You'll do that, and it means we've got another few days together, right? That can't be a bad thing." He flickered his eyebrows.
"Yes, Sebastian, we've got another few days." She gave him a stern, disapproving glance, but couldn't hold back her smile. She turned to her window and composed her face. "However…I haven't got any new facts yet, that's not good." All she could see ahead were hedges and green hills and she was beginning to think the world was against her. She craned her neck every time they hurtled around a bend, looking for this fabled convenience store.
"We are having fun though?"
Of course he was having fun. It wasn't his neck on the line. "Sebastian. That's beside the point. I'm not having fun with the job."
"But you are enjoying yourself?"
"Oh, I get it. You want me to tell you how much I appreciate you distracting me from my job?" She couldn't resist, if he was going to enjoy her deadline jeopardy, he was going to have to take some of the blame.
"A man likes to be appreciated."
"Bastard!" She slapped his thigh. "Concentrate on the road and stop winding me up."
They bumped along the road in silence for a while. Amy smiled out at the rolling hills, amazed by the fact he was able to distract her and make her smile, even at the most difficult of times.
"Personally, I'm having one hell of an adventure," he said.
"Sure you are. Mr. Big Shot PI and the idiot journalist's silly adventure." She felt hot, dizzy, and kind of idiotic. Then she paused to consider what he'd said. "You are?"
He nodded.
"But you must have all sorts of adventures in your line of work." It was the first time she had made direct reference to the real nature his job since the arguments in London, the day before.
"Being with you is quite the adventure in itself, Ms. Norton. I never know what's coming next. We've had haunted houses, a shooting and a walking corpse, a fainting incident, a string of ridiculous clues from a man who looks like a weasel, and—let's face it—the best sex I've ever had, with the sexiest, warmest woman I have ever met. What do you think? Am I having fun?"
"You're winding me up." Whether he was or not, there had been flattery in there, flattery that Amy wasn't used to getting and thoughts about her that she was unaware of him having.
"No, I meant every word."
She stared at him.
When he darted a glance across, there was indeed a grain of seriousness in his expression. "I'm enjoying my time with you and I really want this to work out for you, because I've grown to care about you, a lot, and I want us to enjoy every moment of our time together."
Could it be true, was he serious? Or was he laughing at her and her silly little case? She stared ahead. That's when they rounded a bend in the road and she saw it. "Stop the car," she exclaimed. "There's the shop."
Sebastian checked the mirrors, hit the horn and pulled a sharp u-turn in the middle of the road. The Land Rover screeched across the road and jolted up onto the parking bay in front of the low, rambling village shop that they had almost overshot.
"Well spotted," he said in a perfectly calm voice.
She put her hand to her chest, her heart racing.
"Go for it."
She climbed out of the Land Rover and threw him a bemused glance as she strode past the front of the vehicle, still wondering about what he'd said. Sebastian grinned at her, which made her want to tousle with him. That was exactly his intention, she realized. How had he come to know her, inside out, so quickly? Her body ran hot and cold as she realized the implication—Sebastian meant it, he did care.
Concentrate. Time was running out, fast. She tossed her head back and with as much calm as she could muster, walked toward the door of the shop, looking at her watch and cursing under her breath. There was a light on in the fridge cabinet inside the door, which was a good sign.
"Mornin'."
Amy jumped, but managed to mumble a suitable acknowledgement to the man who stood inside the shop window, staring out. He'd obviously been observing their rather
spectacular arrival in the Land Rover.
The man stood with his legs astride, arms folded over his chest, wearing an outfit that looked as if he was about to go fishing—hat, decorated with multi-colored lures, a utility jacket, Wellingtons, the lot. He didn't move, but as far as she could see he appeared to be the only person in the shop.
"Good morning. We're staying up at the hotel and they have a power cut. They suggested I come here, I need to send a fax." She spoke to him, or to anyone who might be listening from behind the stacks of supplies cluttering her view of the shop counter.
"Oh yes, we have power." He smiled smugly, but still made no move to assist.
Amy stepped past him into the maze-like shop, where goods were stacked precariously and with no logical order. As she moved she could make out what looked like a fax machine behind the counter, at the far end of the shop. The fisherman made no move to follow and there really wasn't anyone else on hand. Perhaps he'd been asked to look after the shop while the owner popped out for a moment. Amy ran an impatient hand across her forehead, pushing back her uncombed hair. Damn the countryside with its easygoing attitude and its lack of efficiency. She was a city girl and she couldn't cope with this complete nonchalance about everything. She paced up and down then paused by a stack of goods, waiting for the fisherman to show some initiative.
"You're just annoyed because you know I'm right."
Amy jumped.
Sebastian was peeking at her from the other side of the shelf, over a stack of cereal boxes, his eyes twinkling. She hadn't even heard him come into the shop. Glancing back she saw the fisherman had moved, marginally, his ear cocked as if to take in their actions, while still watching for anything that might be going on in the country lane outside.
"Admit it, you were having fun, it's not the end of the world now is it?"
He was carrying on the conversation, here, in public, in full view of the fisherman, regardless. He had the cheek of the devil himself. She stared at him. There was indeed a sort of devilishness about his expression. A naughty smile lifted one corner of his mouth. It made anticipation kick in, whenever she saw it. God, he was good. He turned her head every time.
Yeah, she'd been having fun. He'd turned out to be enough fun to distract her completely. But he cared about her. Isn't that what she had secretly hoped, yesterday? Could it mean there was some hope for them? What if he wanted to continue seeing her, after this? Not just a fling while they worked together, but a real relationship. What would life be like with a man like Sebastian, a man who'd turned out to be a dream date and a rollicking adventure, all rolled into one?
"Amy, what is it that you are looking for?" he said, when she didn't respond.
Happiness, fun and love, a family one day, she supposed, then shook her head. What a philosophical thing to have asked her, and in a shop of all places. She stared at him, unable to fathom his intentions. He glanced around the shelves expectantly, then looked back at her.
"Oh, I see." She blushed when she realized he thought she was looking for something in the shop, because of the way she was standing there in the middle of the aisle. She pressed her hand to her temple. The chaos of the morning was making her dizzy.
"Painkillers," she blurted. "I'm liable to need them."
His head disappeared and reappeared, then he reached over, offering her the requisite packet over the top of the stack.
"Thank you." She took the packet off him. He was so gallant, charming and sexy. She felt light-headed. The fisherman was rapping on the window, then she saw his hand wave at a passing cyclist. The cyclist waved back. Was that what he'd been waiting for?
"Ok I admit it," she whispered. "I have been having a lot of fun."
He smiled.
She shot him a warning glance. "But what about Quentin Edwards, what about the trail and the feature I am supposed to be working on?"
The sound of Wellington boots slapping along the linoleum floor drew their attention. The fisherman was ambling up to the till. So, he could move. Amy had been wondering if he was rooted to the spot.
"Normandy Brie" It was the fisherman who had spoken.
Amy frowned and looked at Sebastian. Sebastian shrugged. She stepped quickly over to the counter, unfolding the sheets of paper in her hand.
"I'll write the fax number down for you. It's a London code."
The shopkeeper stared past her as if she hadn't spoken, while he lifted the pages she'd set down on the counter. She pulled a pen out of her bag and began to scribble the number on the back of a discarded till receipt.
"A nice lump of imported Normandy Brie, a box of posh water biscuits, and the best drop of port I could muster. That's what Mr. Edwards likes."
Amy's head shot up.
The shopkeeper looked at them, making eye contact for the first time, his expression amused.
Amy reached out to clutch at the counter. "You know him, Quentin Edwards?"
"Oh yes, Mr. Ghost Hunter himself." He gave a hearty laugh, licked one stubby finger and began to count the pages she'd handed over.
Amy looked at Sebastian, who was observing the shopkeeper with a speculative gaze.
"Have you seen much of him recently?" Sebastian asked.
"I saw him just yesterday." He chortled again. "Ran out of petrol he did, so I had to do a mercy dash out to the cottage with a can and supplies."
Could it be true, had they inadvertently picked up the trail?
"Is he on the phone? It's just that we've got an important message from his work place," Amy mumbled, wondering if the man knew his best customer was AWOL from his life in London.
"Oh no. No phone, no electricity, nothing." More chortling. "That's why they've been living on port and cheese I reckon, them city slicker types soon get bored stoking up the old pot boiler to make their supper of a night."
They? One look at Sebastian assured Amy he'd spotted the remark too. Quentin was here, and he was not alone.
"I don't think we'll be sending the fax after all," Sebastian said, taking it from the man's hand.
"Sebastian, the deadline."
"Think about it, you can give the whole story next week, facts and all." He emphasized the word 'facts', reminding her of her earlier comments.
She glanced at the fax machine, remembering Fiona's icy tone, then looked at the chunky alarm clock ticking loudly on a shelf behind the shopkeeper. It was twenty minutes to eleven o' clock. Decision time.
"Can you tell us where the cottage is?" Sebastian asked. He looked back at Amy, taking her hand and squeezing it, reassuringly.
"I s'pose so, I'm not sworn to secrecy or owt, and I knew one of you London types would come after him eventually. Heard about it on the news. But I do have my living to earn." He leaned both hands on the counter and looked at them expectantly.
Sebastian whipped his wallet out of his back pocket. "While we're here…" He smiled, and winked at Amy. "We'll take a bottle of that port you recommended. In fact, make it two. We can't arrive at Quentin's empty handed now can we?"
Amy blinked. It was really happening, things were happening at last.
"And champagne, if you have any, we may need to celebrate," Amy chipped in, unable to contain her smile.
The shopkeeper began to move at the sort of impressive pace that had hitherto remained unseen, beaming heartily to himself.
Her stomach grumbled, loudly.
Sebastian grinned at her. "I'd maybe better get us a snack to cover for the absence of breakfast?"
"Best barmcakes this side of York," the shopkeeper announced, gesturing to a dome-covered tray behind the counter. "The wife makes them."
"He doesn't miss a trick, does he?" Sebastian whispered.
"No, and lucky it is for us."
He nodded at her remark, looking at her with warmth and affection.
She knew yesterday that she loved him. Now she could see the answer in his eyes. Sebastian really did care about her.
She reached into her bag. "I'll go outside and phone my senior…I'll
explain the situation." With him looking at her that way, even talking to Fiona was somehow insignificant now.
"Tell her you've got your scoop. I'll get some food and the directions," he whispered, then grabbed her as she turned away, phone in hand.
"What, oh—"
His kiss was hurried but full of passion, making her blood rush and her heart trip. He drew her up against him for a moment, before he patted her on the rump and nodded his head at her, smiling. "You got your lucky break. You found him."
Yes, I found him, she thought, looking into his eyes, her heart racing.
Chapter Sixteen
Sebastian watched Amy, proudly, and hopefully, as she walked up the path toward the ivy-covered cottage. She glanced back over her shoulder at him and put her hand on her chest, pausing. "I'm nervous now."
"You'll be fine."
"What if he wants to be left alone, I mean…he didn't come out here to the wilderness to have journalists banging on his door."
"Remember what we discussed on the way over here. Explain the concerns about his unexplained absence. We happened on him by chance, didn't we?" He winked.
She turned to him and on impulse ran back into his arms. "Thanks, Sebastian, for everything."
Her upturned face had an unnerving affect on him. The way it fired all his cylinders was no surprise, not now, not after it happened every time she looked at him. He was getting used to it. It was the rest that unnerved him, the concern he felt, the pride and the affection. To see her winning with this task she had set herself warmed every fiber of his being. He smoothed back her hair.
"Do I look okay?"
"You look terrific, you always look terrific, but you especially suit the bed tousled look."
Her eyes widened, her hands quickly attempting to pull her clothes into some sort of order.
"I'm serious, you look fine. It has been a bit of a chaotic morning, hasn't it?" He smiled at her, somehow knowing she would love that. This is what she'd wanted all along, the results, action, the chase. He gave her an encouraging push on the rump, nodding at the door.
Minding Amy Page 17