Minding Amy
Saskia Walker
Kindle Edition
Copyright 2011 Saskia Walker
This book is for sale to adults only. It contains sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers.
Cover image by Kiselev Andrey Valerevich
Cover design by Alison Kent
Cover copy:
Sassy London journalist, Amy Norton, is on the trail of a missing TV celebrity. When her over-protective father hires a bodyguard to accompany her during her investigative work, she’s furious. Things only get worse when she realizes the bodyguard is the guy she mistakenly approached on a blind date the night before. She was all over the man and embarrassed herself, big time. The last thing she wants is to have him obstructing her investigation, gorgeous though he is.
Undercover Investigator, Sebastian Armitage, is amused and fascinated by the situation and sets out to charm the pants off the hot-headed Ms Norton. She is one sexy lady, and he wants her. Before long they embark on a red-hot affair, but how is Sebastian going to point out that she’s going about investigate work the wrong way, while keeping her sweet?
"Ms Walker is undoubtedly one of the queens of erotic romance." Romance Junkies.
Chapter One
Amy Norton pushed her coffee cup to one side and clicked on the email that had just arrived from Roger Green, a TV producer who was helping her out with a possible news scoop.
I've attached three editions of the Ghost Hunter show in MP4 format, for your perusal.
I'll be in touch with you soon. Yours, Roger.
Amy smiled as she read over the message. Roger Green had been most helpful. In fact it had gone a bit further than that—they'd been flirting wildly over the phone, and every exchange had left her in a breathless state of arousal. She clicked on the attached files. Each one was numbered with a code and the date of an episode of the popular live TV series "Ghost Hunter." On the cover image the enigmatic presenter of the show, Quentin Edwards, waved from a set featuring a ghoulish walled castle shrouded in an eerie twilight mist. Quentin Edwards was the man she was hoping to write a feature on.
It wasn't the sort of story that Amy, a journalist on the London weekly, The City News, covered. She’d been working on the Women's Page for over three years, and when the popular TV show host went missing it caught her attention. She'd been having itchy feet for some time. What better way to cure the restless feeling than covering a story outside of her usual line? While her proposal for the feature circulated upstairs on the senior editors’ desks, she was doing some hasty background research.
Amy was about to launch the first file when the phone rang. She glanced across the office to Janine, her senior, to see if she was going to pick up the call. Janine threw aside her magazine and reached for the phone. She rested back into her chair and flicked back her blonde-flashed hair.
"Hello, Women's Page, Janine Fairfax speaking." Janine grinned across at Amy, nodding her head and waving her hand.
"Yes, of course, Roger. Amy's here and I know she would love to speak to you. I'll transfer you now." She put her hand over the phone. "He wants to check if you received an email from him." Janine rolled her eyes.
Amy smiled. Her phone conversations with the TV producer, Roger Green, had brought no end of speculation over the last twenty-four hours. Aside from the fact he was sourcing information on her proposed Quentin Edwards' feature, Roger had also been flirting outrageously with her. Janine was thoroughly convinced Amy was "in there" with the TV producer and was urging her along with enthusiasm, while Amy had become quite reckless in her verbal encounters with the faceless man at the other end of the phone.
"Roger, hello." She tried not to appear too eager.
"Amy, it's good to hear the sound of your voice again."
She laughed softly. It had only been an hour since they last spoke. Arousal rolled through her. His voice was pure sex. There was a distinctive, intimate tone to it, tempered by a strong northern accent that gave it an earthy quality. An ache sprang from the pit of her belly, reminding her she was a woman and she had needs. She'd been trying to ignore that fact for the sake of her career. There hadn't been room for a man in Amy's life for quite some time.
"Likewise," she replied.
"Glad to hear it. So, did the files open up for you?"
She crossed her legs, squeezing her thighs together. With a voice like that he could charm the most devout celibate. It made her think dirty thoughts—it made her want him to whisper to her while he made love to her. An image assailed her—an image of herself face down on a bed, clawing at the sheets while he talked dirty and took her from behind.
"Yes, they arrived, thank you." She swallowed hard, trying to rid herself of the sexy image, but it wouldn't go away. "I can't express how much I appreciate your help," she rushed on. "I'm hoping I'll be able to approach this story with an investigative slant. I've put a proposal in to the senior editor on investigative features and should be able to confirm tomorrow. I'll be checking out the shows you sent this afternoon."
"Those lucky shows. I'd sure love you to check me out." He gave a distinctly filthy groan.
Amy purred aloud. She couldn't help responding.
"Look, Amy…" He lowered his voice until it was conspiratorial, and when he said her name it felt like a caress, sending tingles down her spine. "How about we get together for a drink?"
Her pulse rate increased, anticipation building rapidly. "Are you asking me out on a date?"
"Yes."
Score. "In that case, I'd love to."
Across the room, Janine did something that looked like a Mexican wave, rising from her seat and waving her arms. Amy mouthed "stop it" at her, but smiled. Janine loved to sit behind her desk surrounded by women's lifestyle magazines, signaling across the office vigorously while she tried to motivate her colleague into a potential relationship. That's because Janine was a deluded sweetie who always believed the next tall dark stranger around the corner was "The One," but Amy tried to be a bit more circumspect about such things.
She had to admit she was tempted by his suggestive voice. Maybe it was time to break out and have some fun. A fling, nothing heavy. She could definitely do with some bedroom action. She suppressed another smile when Janine gave her the thumbs-up and a wink.
"Great news," Roger replied. "Why don't we meet up this evening?"
"Let me check my diary." She leaned back in her chair, swiveled it from side to side and tried to count to ten. Stay cool, she reminded herself. Three, Four. Impetuosity was one of her more hazardous characteristics, her wardrobe attested to it—half the clothes she bought were entirely unsuitable for her. Her father often told her she was impetuous and hotheaded. He didn't mean either as a compliment. It was a difficult thing to shake, though, and she often found herself landed in trouble because of it. Janine was craning her neck, trying to catch any details that might escape across the ether. Five, six, seven. "Nothing I can't rearrange. Let's do it."
"Excellent. We'll have a drink and a chat. No strings attached."
There was no doubting he meant that to sound provocative, especially with those sexual overtones in his voice. For Amy, it unleashed a sense of freedom. Her mind began to wander. She pictured herself sliding into the arms of a gorgeous hunk who breathed husky suggestions in her ear while fondling her.
"Six o'clock?" he added.
"Six o'clock," she repeated. "I look forward to it."
They agreed on a meeting place and when she put the phone down Janine leapt to her feet.
"Well? Did I hear right?" Janine demanded.
"You did, now don't make me nervous. Besides, I've got to look these shows over." She clicked the play button.
Janine crossed her
arms over her chest, looking disappointed. "I'll want the complete low-down tomorrow."
"Deal."
Janine still didn't look pacified. "I know," she declared. "I'll pop out and get you a shot of Dutch courage to have before you go. How's that?"
Amy shook her head. It was Janine's way of getting her to talk, but at least it would give her time to focus on the job in hand while she was out. "Okay then, you win."
Janine grabbed her bag and set off.
While she was gone Amy whizzed through the introduction sequence of Ghost Hunter, pausing each time the show's host came on screen. This is what she was after. It was why she'd got in touch with Roger in the first place. Quentin Edwards—a man loved by his audiences and his co-workers alike. Amy had never watched the show herself, it wasn't her sort of thing, but she'd talked to two admin people at the studios as well as Roger, all of whom spoke highly of Quentin. He certainly appeared to be a loveable rogue, and his disappearance had stirred up a lot of public concern.
Anticipation buoyed inside her at the prospect of working on such a high profile feature. Making the decision to tout for the job had been a big thing in itself. For a start it meant going to the senior editor on investigative work, and the senior editor was her dad. Normally they kept their distance from one another in the workplace. A few colleagues believed Richard Norton had helped his daughter to get a foot up on the career ladder, but it wasn't the case. She'd got her job fair and square via agency work. In fact she often felt he’d made her climb even tougher than the other fledglings. Despite those obstacles, she'd made the decision to go for it and sent her father a proposal for the scoop. He'd had it on his desk for twenty-four hours and his secretary had finally emailed her an acknowledgement of her memo and an appointment for the following morning. The feature was almost hers.
The "Ghost Hunter" show seemed to be mostly filmed in infrared and featured a bunch of willing, easily excited victims, sent to spooky locations and filmed live while they scurried around, eyes glowing, waiting for any sign of ghosts or the supernatural. Luckily it looked like pretty tame stuff, the high point involving a soundman on his hands and knees with his boom, following noises around the plumbing. Amy was an outgoing, confident woman, but when it came to anything remotely scary she turned into a bag of nerves. She couldn't even sit through a horror film. Ghost Hunter seemed quite silly though. Even she could deal with that amount of creepiness if it led her on to more challenging work. The Women's Page had become a bit too predictable for her liking. She was fed up with extolling the virtues of the latest cosmetic breakthrough. Securing the occasional feature for a different column would liven things up a bit.
She was skimming through the third show when Janine returned.
"The goodies have arrived." Janine lifted the tote bag in her hand.
Amy looked at her watch. It was nearly five.
Janine reached into the bag and slapped a packet of straws onto her desk. "Remember the press party I went to last week?"
"Yes," Amy replied, eyeing the straws with curiosity.
"Well, this is what they had for hospitality. One of these and you'll have no problem bagging this Mr. Green, I assure you." She lifted two miniature bottles of Moet et Chandon out of the bag.
"You expect me to drink Moet through a straw?" Amy shook her head at the idea of it.
"Uhu."
"Isn't that some sort of crime?"
"Wait and see. It was the sexiest drink I ever had. You'll love it. Here."
Amy took the bottle Janine thrust in her hand and they tried to find a safe spot to offload the corks.
"What now?" Amy exclaimed as the bubbles began to froth.
Janine popped a straw into her bottle. It bobbed up and down, almost flying back out. She gestured at Amy to hold on tight and take a sip. "Quickly."
"Wow," she gasped, as the bubbles frothed into her mouth and the chilled champagne fizzed against the back of her throat. "That is sexy."
Janine winked at her approvingly.
"Told you so. It comes with best of luck for this evening."
"Thanks, and thanks for humoring me on this project." The Ghost Hunter project was outside the remit of her job, but Janine had been supportive and encouraging about it.
"No problem," she replied. "You’ve covered for me often enough."
It was true, she did cover for her, but that was usually when Janine dashed off on a mercy mission to help her sister manage her brood of kids.
"It's not that I'm looking to move, I just want to vary the workload a bit from time to time."
"I know, and it's not such a bad idea." Janine looked thoughtful. "I might give it a try myself sometime."
"If I get the go-ahead I'm hoping to get a bunch of work done for it over this weekend, but, even so, it might take a few of my days out of the office."
Janine nodded. "We've got most of the copy for the next edition, you go and have your little adventure. Speaking of which, have you ever had a blind date before?" She swizzled the straw in her bottle.
"Nope, you?"
"Yeah, once."
"What was he like?"
Janine slurped at her Moet before responding. "Don't ask," she replied. She grimaced and shook her head in distaste.
Amy began to giggle. Janine’s expression said it all. "Quasimodo?"
"Nah," she replied, deadpan. "His evil twin."
"Janine!"
"Hey, your guy must be okay, with a voice that sexy."
She shrugged it off, but Amy could see Janine was laughing at the idea of it, the cheeky Madam. She shook her head. What the hell—it was already too late to back out.
* * * *
An hour later Amy tottered up to The Frock and Jacket, cursing under her breath. It sure had turned out to be a bad day to break in her new heels, but she hadn't known she'd be going on a blind date when she put them on that morning. Thankfully Roger had suggested the nearest pub to her office.
The street hummed with traffic, the river of slow-moving cars interspersed with London's trademark red double-decker buses. On the pavements, crowds bustled past, either out on the town or homeward bound at the end of the working day. The city shimmered with midsummer heat. For Amy it was at its most vibrant, alive with tourists and the city dwellers enjoying the rare, sultry weather. She glanced up at the stained glass windows of the pub. She could see figures moving inside. Like most traditional pubs near the heart of the city it would be getting busy with the after-work crowd. She looked at the heavy oak swing door and braced herself.
"What the hell am I doing here?" she murmured to herself as she made her way through the entrance hall. At college she had dated easily, never seriously, but she always had the option of a male companion if she wanted the company, or the sex. Since then she'd pretty much made her career her partner, sacrificing her love life for the sake of her job. She'd had a couple of brief holiday affairs, relationships she enjoyed but carefully kept separate from her everyday life, and yet now she was embarking on a blind date.
Janine's champagne had done a good job of anaesthetizing her nerves, though. Far too good, in fact. They'd ended up laughing over a list of possible excuses she could use if she hated him on sight and had to do a runner. She'd almost forgotten to leave the office on time. What with the champagne and the mad dash to get there, Amy felt rather reckless and dizzy.
Before she entered the lounge bar she ran her hands over her hips, smoothing the line of her skirt. He was probably hoping for a blonde stick insect, not a curvy brunette. There was no putting the deed off any longer though, and she braced herself and pushed open the door.
The bar was busy. All the comfortable booths along the wall were already full. Roger had said he'd wait for her at the bar. There were a bunch of women at one end, gossiping in a huddle. She could see two men sitting on bar stools at the near end. Amy straightened and shook back her hair. One of the men was a suited blonde, the other wore more casual clothes and was dark haired. What would a TV producer be wearing, and
why hadn't she at least thought to ask him what color his hair was?
She tried to peer round to see what they were drinking. As she did, the blonde man stood up and turned away from the bar with two tall glasses in his hand. He headed off to a banquette on one side. That left the dark guy. He was concentrating on something, possibly reading. Roger had said he would be drinking a bottle of Becks and he'd have a copy of The City News with him. So far, so good.
She looked him over. His dark hair looked as if he had ruffled it with his fingers, casually spiked. He wore black jeans and a casual white shirt that was fitted well enough to outline his attractive build. Broad shoulders and tapered hips. Nice. And a gorgeous backside, she couldn't help noticing. Her pulse began to pick up speed. If the rest of him matched up to the rear view, she would have to remind herself not to drool.
He turned a page. He was definitely reading a newspaper. She took a step forward then one sideways in order to try to get a glimpse of his face. He reached out to pick up his drink. When he put it back down on the bar, she could see the label on the bottle. Becks. It was him.
She started her approach. A leather jacket was folded over the bar stool to his right-hand side. She headed for the left-hand side, planning to slide elegantly onto the stool next to him. As she sidled onto the stool, her right foot skidded from under her. Those damned heels.
Amy snatched onto the nearest thing—his arm. It didn't stop her sliding.
"Whoa, steady." The man grabbed her against him, reacting quickly, turning on his seat to hold her up.
"Oh, I'm so sorry." She found herself wedged up against one strong thigh and staring into mesmerizing gray-green eyes, heavily fringed and filled with a warm, friendly expression. He had strong, chiseled features and a handsome mouth that was giving her a surprised, lopsided smile. Gorgeous. The arm around her waist was firm and reassuring, holding her easily.
Minding Amy Page 1
