Minding Amy (25 page)

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.