Free Driving Her Crazy by Amy Andrews Page A

Leo . ‘I wasn’t really that talented.’ She shrugged. ‘I dropped out.’
    Became someone else’s muse instead.
    Kent frowned at her nonchalance. There was a hell of a lot more to that story!
    None of which he wanted to know.
    ‘So you became a journo? A bit different from painting, surely?’
    ‘Not really. I paint my pictures with words now. I like it. I like the facts of it, the clearly defined boundaries. Art is all about interpretation. You must know that,’ she said dismissively, looking up at him. ‘Reporting deals in definites, in absolutes. I like the structure.’
    She did. She really did.
    Art for her had been a double-edged sword. So tied in with her emotions, her well-being, it had been hard to separate out. It had felt like possession.
    Which was, as Leo had pointed out, insane when her talent didn’t justify it.
    It had certainly destroyed her relationship with him.
    ‘Don’t you miss the creativity?’
    Sadie shook her head. ‘Words are creative,’ she countered.
    Kent shot her a come-on-now look. ‘You know what I mean.’ He’d thought for a long time he never wanted to get behind a camera again, but the urge had returned with gusto.
    Sadie sighed, fixing her gaze on distant hills. ‘Painting took over my life. Or rather striving to be good enough took over my life.’ Leo had been a hard taskmaster when she’d gone to live with him and trying to get it right had been impossible. ‘I’m afraid if I took it up again I’d be back in that place. I don’t think I can have one without the other.’
    ‘Well, that sounds intense,’ he murmured.
    ‘Trust me—’ she grimaced ‘—it was.’
    Kent’s fingers tightened around the wheel. ‘Did you paint nudes?’ he asked, wondering suddenly if that was where the Pinto puzzle pieces fitted.
    Sadie pulled her gaze off the horizon, not that far gone that she didn’t recognise he’d moved her into dangerous territory.
    ‘Where should we stop for lunch, do you think?’ she asked, pulling the map out of the glovebox.

    They stopped for lunch at a truck stop near Blackall. Sadie ate a ham and salad roll but discarded the bun. Kent watched as she leaned forward slightly when his hamburger with beetroot and a fried egg arrived as if she was trying to absorb its mouth-watering aroma. He was also aware of her gaze as he brought it to his mouth and chomped into the juicy delight.
    When the waitress delivered his lamington and large caramel thick shake to the table he thought he almost heard her whimper before she stood abruptly.
    ‘I’ll wait for you by the car,’ she said.
    Kent watched her go. Her wavy hair swung between her shoulder blades, her shirt hung loose around her waist and bottom, completely concealing everything down to the backs of her thighs. But every time she moved those curves moved with her and there wasn’t one trucker in the joint that didn’t watch her sway out of the door.
    He continued to watch her through the glass sliding doors as she walked out into the heat of the midday sun and strolled towards the vehicle. She looked up at a massive road train semi-trailer thundering past. The guy driving was hanging out his window, leering and yelling something at Sadie.
    Kent wasn’t an expert lip-reader but he did pretty well with body language so he figured that when Sadie flipped the bird, the trucker had probably suggested she flash him a certain part of her anatomy.
    He sucked the last of the thick icy shake up his straw and watched his fellow diners, who were looking wistfully at Sadie no doubt wishing that she’d complied with the lewd request.
    The woman was a walking, talking hourglass. Why was she so hell-bent on straitjacketing her assets? Why did she want to starve them into submission?
    Kent stood, throwing a tip on the table.
    It was none of his bloody business.

    Halfway between Barcaldine and Longreach they blew a tyre. Sadie was in a deep sleep when Kent’s curse woke her.
    ‘What’s up?’ she asked as