Free Without A Clue by Pamela Wilder

bad,” Mandie said. “You won’t find a better lady. Well, have a ball.”
     
    “Thank you.”
     
    Aden stepped into Amelia’s apartment and gave her a bright smile. “You ready to go, Amelia?”
     
    Amelia squared her shoulders, determined to be professional. This was work, after all. Aden had drawn the final line in the sand, and Amelia was going to abide by it.
     
    “I am. I think you’re right about the wine. All my research leads me to believe Mr. Staunton is an egomaniac who believes this wine is his divine private reserve or something.”
     
    “Great.” Aden put a hand on the small of her back, guiding her out the door. “Then we just have to skulk about until we can get to the cellar.”
     
    “Are we just gathering evidence?”
     
    “Yeah. My client can deal with retrieval,” Aden said. “I need pictures, lot numbers, that sort of thing.”
     
    “We can so do that.” She forced a smile, even though his words kept echoing in her mind. Just work. Not together.
     
    Amelia was going to get through this night, help Aden solve the case, and then give him a piece of her mind.
     
    Her lower lip quivered, but she clamped her lips together to keep her emotions at bay. She was a librarian. She could so this.

Chapter Ten
     
    “Woo!” Aden picked up Amelia and spun her around, laughing like a loon when her entire bun slid out of its pins and landed on her shoulders, her curls bouncing. “You’re amazing, finding that hidden door in the cellar. I say we call that one a complete success.”
     
    “I think we do.” Amelia put her hands on his chest and pushed. “You can put me down now.”
     
    “Sorry.” He set her on her feet, careful to make sure she hadn’t lost a shoe. “Where do you want to do for a late supper? We should celebrate.”
     
    His euphoric mood crashed when Amelia stepped back, smoothing her dress down her body and frowning repressively at him. “I don’t.”
     
    “Don’t what?” Aden asked, dread building in the pit of his belly.
     
    “I don’t want to go to supper. Thank you for the party. And the dress. It was lovely, and the hunt was a hoot, as always.” She blinked rapidly, moistening her lips. “But I think this is our last case, Aden.”
     
    The dread ball turned into a lead balloon. “Why? We go great together.”
     
    “I have a job I love, one I get paid for.” Amelia clasped her hands around her little clutch purse, knuckles white. “This whole adventure has been a blast, but you need to hire an assistant, and I need to get on Match.com or something.”
     
    Her words stunned him into immobility for a moment, and that was just long enough for Amelia to decide she was right, he thought. She walked to him, reaching up to put a hand on his cheek. “Good luck to you, Aden Bourne. You deserve a good life.”
     
    With that, Amelia walked away from him, leaving him at the valet stand at the Brookline mansion with no one to celebrate with. He deserved it, undoubtedly, but all of a sudden Aden had no idea what he was going to do without Amelia Patrick.

Chapter Eleven
     
    “No, the hospital closed in 1923. Right. I’m happy to send that. Do you have an email I can use? Great. Have a good day.”
    Amelia hung up with the patron she’d been working with for the past week, helping him research a non-fiction book about a local psychiatric hospital. The patron was a ghost hunter, which made Amelia happy. She did love variety.
     
    “Hey, Amelia. Want to go to lunch with me and Anne?” Jordan Handels stopped by her desk, the dapper little man wearing a plaid sweater vest and a gold watch chain.
     
    She smiled, pleased that some of her colleagues had finally warmed up to her. “I would love that, Jordan. Let me grab my sweater.” Fall was coming in fast, and the air was crisp outside today.
     
    They walked to Papa Razzi for pizza, chatting amiably. By the time the got seated, she’d learned Jordan was gay, married to his partner of fifteen years, and