Even so, she moved in the direction of homeplate to offer congratulations to the players, but detoured abruptly when she saw Cade in the midst of the cheering, noisy group. Marilynda stood at his side and Jay was skipping back and forth in excitement. Ross and Lorna were there, too, ready to hand the traditional trophy to the winning team. Autumn knew they would have made room for her, but she felt oddly displaced in that gathering and she moved quickly away. What had ever made her believe she could slip naturally back into the ebb and flow of Eastport life?
She felt Cade’s gaze on her and glanced over her shoulder. His brows were arched in questioning concern, an expression she knew well. He lifted a hand to motion her to join the group, but she shook her head and smiled, just so he’d know she was all right. Otherwise, she thought he might come after her with a bandage, prepared to fix her knee or her spirits, whichever needed attention. He didn’t return her gesture, she noticed, and hastened her retreating steps.
That was the problem. She was in need of a smile. Just one. A simple curve of his lips to let her know the rift in their friendship would heal, that their difference of opinion couldn’t keep them at odds indefinitely. Maybe that was the root of her low spirits—the fact that she and Cade were still at odds over the boutique idea. They hadn’t discussed it further, but she knew it was on his mind by the cool distance he observed whenever she’d been anywhere near, which hadn’t been often. Yes, definitely, that must be what was bothering her today.
She reached the conclusion and the boat house at the same time. The dock was shadowed by the gathering twilight and Autumn was grateful the picnic area was on the far side of the house and that no one else had sought a quiet refuge from the noise. She trailed a hand along the sleek sides of Cade’s sailboat as her feet traced a slow path over the redwood slats.
He hadn’t renewed the invitation to sail with him, she thought. Her fingers slid away from the fiberglass hull to brush listlessly against her thigh. She walked to the end of the dock, sat on the edge, and watched the sunset fade to dusk in the water’s peaceful reflection. It was familiar and soothing to be alone with the beginning night sounds of the inlet. Growing up hadn’t been easy, but this place had helped her gain perspective many times in the past. And she could certainly use some now.
Coming home wasn’t what she had thought it would be. There were changes. Confusing changes. But what had actually changed? Not the annual picnic or the basic small-town atmosphere of home. If not what, who, then? Had she changed so much that she couldn’t make a place—a grown-up place— for herself here?
Leaning back, Autumn braced herself with her hands and stared at the darkening sky, her thoughts coming full circle to Cade. He’d warned her before she left that nothing stayed the same, but she hadn’t believed him. At the time she hadn’t really cared. Home had been only a place to leave. Nothing could have persuaded her to stay, and nothing had.
She had spent five years chasing life as though it were something she could capture, as though it were a rare butterfly she could hold in her hand. But each accomplishment, each dream realized, only left her surprised and puzzled by the emptiness in her hands. She had wanted, had planned so much, but it all seemed unimportant now and she didn’t understand why.
Autumn closed her eyes and moved her head in a slow, stretching circle to ease the tight muscles in her neck. It was just today, she reasoned. And the fact that Cade hadn’t ... hadn’t what? Talked to her? Smiled at her? Waved? No, it wasn’t that. It was the sure knowledge that he was in love with someone else.
Someone else ... and not her. In slow, devastating comprehension, Autumn opened her eyes. Oh, God, was she in love with Cade? But how? When? Why hadn’t she realized it before now?
Her heart pounded with the unfolding of emotion inside her. Of course she loved him. She’d always adored him. Passionately, intensely, but that was no reason to believe she was in love with him.
But it was. She knew the truth was woven into the very fabric of her life as surely as it was written in the few stars that were visible in the sky above. It had been there all the time, but she hadn’t seen, hadn’t recognized, the warm, quiet love growing to maturity within her while she was busy chasing butterflies. She was in love with Cade. As simple as that. Simple? What was she thinking? Once, it might have been. But not now. Now her place in his heart, in his life, wasn’t secure. Now there was someone else.
“Sulking? Or just telling your troubles to the boat house?” Cade spoke to her from the darkness, his voice as velvet as the night.
Startled, Autumn snapped to attention and she felt a splinter of wood from the dock sting her palm. Panic swirled through her as the stars blurred and then winked in blissful neutrality. They shared her secret, but they offered little sympathy and no advice on how to pretend her feelings for him were the same as they’d always been. Carefully she glanced over her shoulder while concentrating all her emotion on the fragment of discomfort in her palm. “What makes you think I’m sulking?”
“Past experience.” He took the few steps necessary to reach her. “You’ve always come here to sulk when the marina employees lose the softball game. True?”
It would be pointless to deny it. As a resentful adolescent she’d often found even less of an excuse than that for sulking. But she’d outgrown that stage of moodiness long ago. Only Cade still remembered, still insisted on thinking of her as a child.
Autumn sighed. “True,” she answered, all the while hoping he would somehow vanish into the realm of her imagination. It was the first time in her memory that she’d truly wished to be alone in preference to being with him. The thought saddened her and made her wish even more for solitude. Gently she touched the tender spot on her palm. “To be honest, I didn’t know which team had won. I was just feeling a little crowded, so I came here.”
“Mmm.” His thoughtful murmur produced a slight frown across her forehead as he sat on the dock beside her. “The crowd does seem noisier than usual, doesn’t it?”
“I don’t know,” she said, trying to ignore the gentle brush of his shoulder against her own. “I’ve been gone a few years, remember?”
“I remember.” Stillness settled between them and lingered a moment too long. “This is like old times, isn’t it?” he asked after a while. “We’ve commiserated over many lost ballgames on this old dock and we’ve had some pretty hefty disagreements here, too, haven’t we?”
Autumn sent him a wry, sideways glance. “Some of them were almost as hefty as the disagreement we’re now having over my ideas for the store.”
He grimaced and looked away. “Just like old times—right down to the familiar feeling that you’re getting ready to start an argument.”
Why did he have to sit so close to her? And why didn’t she simply scoot over and give herself some much-needed space? “I’m not in the mood for arguments or disagreements tonight,” she said. “Especially about the boutique.”
“Good.” He sounded genuinely relieved and Autumn watched in surprise as he jumped lightly to his feet and walked to the sailboat. “I had a hell of a time getting these down here without a calamity,” he explained as the clink of fine crystal chimed softly in the air. “And I set them on the boat deck until I could—test the waters, so to speak. I didn’t want to waste good champagne if you were dead set on arguing.”
He was back beside her within seconds, leaning down to hand her a glass. “Be careful not to spill it,” he cautioned as she tentatively accepted his offering. “This is a rare peacemaking wine from my own private cellar. It’s not to be confused with the many imitations you see on supermarket shelves, and please never refer to it as ordinary champagne. It may look the same, but don’t be fooled. This wine has a mission.” Again he sat close beside her and held his glass up to the moonlight.
Silvery bubbles diffused the light into a prism of color and her throat ached with emotion. How was it possible to suddenly love him more than she already did? Her eyes were drawn to his face, but when he turned to
her, she turned away, knowing her only protection lay in pretense. “Does that mean this wine has a ‘high’ purpose?”
His aggrieved gaze was quick and to the point. “That was unworthy of you, Autumn. Try to concentrate, would you?”
“Right.” She raised the glass to her lips, but he stopped her.
“That wasn’t what I meant by concentrating,” he interrupted. “You can’t take a drink until we’ve made peace.”
“Oh.” Eyeing him doubtfully, she lowered the glass. “You’re doing this backward, Cade. I’ll feel much more peaceful after I drink the wine.”
“This isn’t working. I followed you for the sole purpose of suggesting a truce, or at least a moratorium on the subject of the boutique. If you protested, I intended to ply you with wine until you agreed.”
“No plying is necessary. I hereby agree to a ceasefire,” she stated firmly. “Said cease-fire will go into effect at once and last until all sales data are gathered, at which time open combat will resume.”
His laugh was throaty. “I’ll drink to that.” He brought his glass against hers in a sedate toast, then took it to his lips.
Autumn followed his movements with eyes that were helpless to look elsewhere. His mouth curved along the rim of the crystal and as he sipped, she imagined the cool effervescent wine clinging to his lips and coming to hers in a lingering kiss.
This was Cade, who had sat with her on this dock more times than she could remember; Cade, who had comforted her when she’d failed to win the valentine of her choice in fifth grade; Cade, who had often understood her better than she had herself. But he wouldn’t understand this. Autumn took a drink and then another, swallowing quickly in hopes the wine would dull the razor-sharp edge of her tension. She was breathlessly aware of the man beside her, painfully conscious of the betraying ache in her stomach.
The desire to touch him was as real as the splinter under her skin. Yet she knew the tiny splinter could be removed easily, while the need to kiss him, caress him, and know the beauty of loving him as a woman would never leave her. The silence between them was unobtrusive. It was the soft sharing she had enjoyed with Cade, but now it seemed rough with confusing emotions. How swiftly everything could change.
“I met Marilynda.” The thought came from nowhere and was spoken before she realized her intention. “She’s very lovely. And nice. I liked her right away.” Frowning, Autumn slowed the momentum of the words and sipped at her wine. “I can see why you think she’s pretty special.”
He turned in her direction with a slow, guarded look. “Can you?”
“Well, yes,” she said hesitantly. “Marilynda is— Oh, I don’t know. She just seems somehow suited to you.”
“Suited?” he repeated, and raised his glass to drain the remainder of his wine in one swallow. “So you’re already making plans to give the groom away.”
“No! I couldn’t—” Autumn stopped and deliberately softened the denial with a constrained laugh. “You’re not mine to give away.”
“No.” He was silent then, until he broke the mood as he set down his wineglass and said, “Tell me about living in New York. Was it all you expected it to be? Do you miss it?”
The splinter bit a little deeper into her palm as she clenched her hand. Why had he changed the subject? Why wouldn’t he tell her about Marilynda? Why did she even want to know?
“New York is”—she paused to give herself time to consider—”exhilarating, exhausting. It’s so much more than I imagined, but I’m not sure it’s all that I expected. I loved living there—except when I hated it. Maybe I just didn’t belong.”
No, she had never belonged there. She knew that now. Her heart had been restless, searching for home, for Cade.
“It’s very different from Eastport.”
“Yes.”
“Are you going back?”
“No! I told you I’m home to stay. I’m not saying there won’t be a few adjustments to make, but I’m staying here.”
He laughed softly and warmed her with a smile. “Touchy, aren’t you? I was only asking if you’re going back for a visit sometime.”
That wasn’t what he’d meant. It had been another way of challenging her, and Autumn refused to reply. From the corner of her eye she saw the deepening of his grin and knew he was not going to drop the subject entirely.
“How many broken hearts did you leave behind?” His voice followed the amused curve of his lips. “Dozens?”
“Oh, at least that many.” She thought that if nothing else she could match his teasing tone. “None, however, that won’t mend.”
“You don’t really expect me to believe that. Surely you left one that’s beyond repair ... or maybe your heart is the one in need of fixing.” His shoulder bumped hers as he shifted position and unexpectedly lifted her hand from her lap to cradle it, palm up, in his own. “Does your heart still belong to you, Autumn? Or did you lose it somewhere on the other side of the horizon?”
Her trembling began with his first touch and intensified with his words. What could she say? The discovery of her love for him was too recent to deny, too new to confess. She needed to think. She needed time to adjust. She needed to get her hand away from his.
“Don’t do that,” she said, jerking her hand from his light grasp. She felt foolish then for making her emotional discomfort so obvious. An explanation, however lame, seemed unavoidable. “I—I have a splinter.”
“I’m sorry. Here, let me look.” His concern was instant and honest and before she had a chance to explain further, her hand was back in his. If she protested his concern, she’d either hurt her hand or his feelings, so Autumn allowed herself to feel the tenderness of his touch against her skin.
“Hmmm,” he murmured, “can’t see a thing, but if you think surgery is necessary, I could get a flashlight from—”
“No, thank you, Dr. Frankenstein. I’ll tough it out.” She began to pull her hand free, but his fingers closed over hers and wouldn’t release her. Her eyes sought his in the twilight as he slowly raised her palm to his lips. His kiss lingered longer than a heartbeat, but not nearly as long as she might have wished. “There,” he said as he placed her hand back in her lap, “that should speed your recovery. Sorry I don’t have a bandage.”
Autumn couldn’t have made a reply even if she’d wanted to do so, and the ensuing silence was welcome. Her whole body trembled with his nearness; her palm tingled. For her his kiss had been a moment of devastating awareness; for him it had been a moment of kiss-it-and-make-it-well comfort. What a difference loving made.
“Tell me about Richard.”
Oh, no. She wasn’t about to get into another discussion of “boyfriends.” “There’s nothing to tell,” she said. She sensed Cade’s half-irritated smile, but kept her gaze on the ripple of reflected stars in the water.
“You always said you intended to fall in love with a wealthy man.”
“I’ve said a lot of foolish things.”
“Did you fall in love with Richard?”
“What difference does it—?” Autumn broke off the protest. Why not tell him the extent of her foolishness? It would give him the chance to say I told you so. “Yes, at least I thought I was in love with him.” Her memory winged back to the days when love was a bouquet of exotic flowers or flying to St. Thomas for lunch. Oh, she had been in love all right, but not with Richard. He only represented the lifestyle she’d dreamed of having. Fortunately she’d realized her mistake before the never-serious Richard began to think seriously. That time in her life had been foolish and flighty and fun, and she wouldn’t trade it for anything—except perhaps a change of heart.
Cade moved beside her and her thoughts came home. “Richard is a wonderful man.” She summed up her feelings in a sentence. “But he never quite measured up to my idea of a hero.”
“Ordinary men seldom do.” The words were low and oddly sad.
Autumn felt a familiar need to tease away any hint of sadness. “Don’t you think I deserve a little better t
han ordinary?”
His reply was long in coming and so soft, she wondered at its huskiness, “I’ve always thought you deserved the best, Autumn.”
Tension closed over her as she recognized his stillness and she turned to him impulsively. “Cade?”
Their eyes met and held as reason shattered around her. She leaned forward and brushed his mouth with her own, but the touch was inadequate. Desire welled and spilled over onto her lips and she gave in to her love for him. Her breasts pushed against her T-shirt, seeking and finding stimulation against his muscled chest. She leaned on him for support and let her arms move around his shoulders until her fingers found the hair at his nape.
She ignored his cautious response, allowing him little room for retreat, and then his arms were sliding around her, holding her as he began to take charge of the caress she’d initiated. In all her daydreams she’d never dreamed of a kiss that was fulfilling and frightening all at once. She was eager to be closer, to experience more of him, but she was afraid of feeling too much, of giving more than she could afford to lose.
Her pulsing emotions swirled into warm curls of need. He parted her lips with a fiercely daring gentleness and Autumn responded with a passion newly discovered and all her own. But, abruptly, the kiss ended and his hands were gripping her shoulders, propelling her back, away from him.
“Autumn!” The raspy calling of her name penetrated her consciousness slowly and it took a full minute before she comprehended the angry note in his voice. What had she done? That was not the sort of kiss exchanged between friends, and Cade had been totally unprepared for her sudden impulsive embrace. She should have thought; she should have realized....
With an unsuccessful attempt to smile, Autumn stood and took a wary step back and then another. “Good night, Cade.” It was amazing that she could sound so casual. Astounding that she could turn and walk away as if she didn’t want to run madly to safety. She heard the impatient echo of his steps behind her and knew he wasn’t going to let her escape.
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