Free Heart of the Matter by Marta Perry Page A

Amanda. Get on with the article you already have on tap. If there’s anything in this—”
    “There is,” she interrupted, anger sparking in her eyes.
    “That decision is mine to make, not yours.”
    He held the door open, welcoming the blast of cool air. He could have someone look into the situation and get a handle on whether this was worth an investigation, but that someone wasn’t going to be Amanda. If by any chance that landlord was pulling something underhanded and probably illegal on his tenants, he wouldn’t be too happy to be confronted by a reporter.
    For a moment Amanda stood on the hot sidewalk, glaring at him. Then, chin held high, she marched into the building.
    He followed, letting the door swing shut behind him.
    Amanda was already almost to the elevator. Maybe he’d use the stairs.
    She’d taken offense at his decision, not surprisingly. What else was new? It seemed impossible for the two of them to meet on neutral ground. He constantly fought the urge to throttle her.
    Or kiss her.

Chapter Six
    “C ome on, can’t you give me a smile?” Amanda coaxed, watching the child’s face in the screen of her digital camera. “Please?”
    The little girl sat at the top of the sliding board, dark hair in multiple braids tied with pink ribbons that matched the pink shorts and T-shirt she wore, her lips pressed together firmly.
    Amanda glanced at C.J., who’d accompanied her on this assignment. “She’d be an adorable example of the summer playground program if we could get a smile.”
    C.J. took the hint and crawled onto the bottom of the slide. “Hey, is this the right way to use this thing?” She planted her palms on the slide and made as if to pull herself up toward the girl. “Is it?”
    The child shook her head, solemn for another moment. “No.” The corners of her lips curved up just a bit.
    “It must be.” C.J. pretended to scramble upward. “How’d you get up there? You slid up on your tummy, didn’t you?”
    “No, ma’am!” The child grinned, eyes lighting up.
    She grabbed the sides of the slide. “You get yourself outta the way, y’hear? ’Cause I’m comin’ down.”
    Amanda snapped quickly while C.J. scrambled out of the way. The child sailed off the end, bounced on her feet, and was headed toward the ladder again when a whistle blew.
    “Crafts!” she yelled, and darted off toward the pavilion.
    A smile lingering on her lips, Amanda shaded the camera with her hand to check the photos she’d taken, aware of C.J. watching over her shoulder. To Amanda’s amusement, C.J. now wore a neat pair of tan slacks with a shirt in Amanda’s favorite shade of turquoise.
    The intern’s attitude had steadily improved since that pugnacious exchange the first day, which was certainly an answer to prayer. Maybe the plain talking Amanda had done had gotten through to her.
    Amanda knew perfectly well that she was putting off another serious discussion. She’d spent a couple of hours with C.J. today, and she hadn’t mentioned the housing issue or the possibility of doing a story on it.
    Maybe because that wasn’t really a possibility, not as far as Ross was concerned. Amanda’s jaw tightened at the thought. He was being unreasonable, dismissing the idea just because it came from her.
    “Why didn’t they send a photographer with us?” C.J.’s question was abrupt, as if she was ready to take offense at their lack of a photographer. “I thought they had pros to do the pictures.”
    “The paper does have a few photographers, but not enough to go around.” And too often, the stories she was assigned weren’t considered important enough to warrant a photographer. “If you have a chance to learn anything about digital photography, grab it. That ability improves your chances in a tough job market, believe me.”
    C.J. frowned a little, but she nodded. “Did we get enough material from Miz Dottie for the story, do you think?”
    Amanda glanced across the playground to the pavilion. A