Free Minding Amy by Saskia Walker Page A

starting to get a mite irritated by his line of questioning. It was bit like her father all over again.
    "If you're good at interviewing people about their products or themselves, why go after a missing person? It's kind of ironic, don't you think?" He chuckled.
    She folded her arms across her chest. "Why I want to do this is my own affair. I am not here for your amusement. As far as I'm concerned, you are superfluous to requirements."
    "You didn't say that when I was between your thighs last night."
    She opened her mouth to respond but the hot tick between her thighs stole her ability to speak, and the challenging look in his eyes made her forget what she was saying altogether.
    "Is it because your old man used to be an investigative journalist?"
    "Are you trying to analyze me?"
    "No. I'm curious. I want to know all about Amy Norton." He lifted his eyebrows to emphasize his point.
    For a moment she stared into his eyes and wished she could simply lose herself in his embrace and ignore everything else that was going on. But that wasn't the kind woman she was. She took a deep breath. "Maybe you're right. I grew up with all the excitement of his scoops, it was something to aspire to. Mostly, I needed a change from the sort of work I was doing. One too many pedestrian articles about the benefits of spa treatments."
    "I can understand that. Everybody wants an adventure." He winked.
    Despite her increasingly agitated mood, he was turning her on. Heat had gathered between her thighs and she ached to have him back there again.
    He glanced at his watch. "Who are we interviewing first?"
    Amy stared at him. The idea of him following around while she was trying to ask people sensible questions about Quentin Edwards rattled her. "Look," she said rising to her feet and clearing the dishes onto the work surface by the sink, "it's really not necessary to you to accompany me everywhere I go."
    He was behind her in a flash, drawing her bottom to his hips with his hands wrapped around her waist. "It's my job, and you agreed that I could tag along."
    His embrace made her legs turn weak. Lord, how was she supposed to get anything done with this man around? All she wanted to do was take him back to bed. Between his provocative male sexuality and his aggressive questioning about her job and her motives, she was a mess. Get a grip of yourself.
    Forcibly, she turned around and put her hands against his chest, attempting to ease him away. "Yes, it is your job, and let's make some ground rules about that, shall we? You're here to watch out for me, that’s all."
    He stroked her breastbone with the back of one knuckle, which instantly made her nipples harden with anticipation.
    "That’s all?" he quizzed. "No more hot sex?"
    Amy sighed aloud. "For goodness sake, I'm trying to get my head together here."
    "Maybe later?" He winked.
    "Sebastian!" She was beginning to wonder if he'd been hired to distract her from her goal.
    "Sorry." He adopted a serious expression. It lasted all of ten seconds.
    She shook her head at him. "Give me twenty minutes to get showered and dressed then I'm ready to work." She emphasized the word "work" but the amused look in his eyes didn't convince her he'd take it seriously.

    * * * *

    Sebastian couldn't quite believe he was being paid to follow Amy Norton around while she chatted with the librarian, the postmistress, and the shopkeepers of Arundel, about the time the TV crew came to town. It was an absolute pleasure observing her, and he quickly noticed she had a knack of swinging the conversation around to see if anybody remembered anything unusual about Quentin or his crew. Her dad was right, she was great with people.
    The way Sebastian saw it investigative work was a lonely job. He tried to keep a good sense of family amongst the team of investigators and security specialists that worked for him, to stave it off, but his gut instinct told him someone like Amy would not thrive in that world. It would be a shame to think of