She hadn’t asked though. How could she explain that she wanted him to notice her, to appreciate her femininity ... to love her? How long could she pretend she loved him as nothing more than a friend? How long before he realized something had changed? Cade was still the same companion he’d always been to her, but that was an elusive comfort. She was no longer the same and that made everything he did, every word he said, different.
Aware of the amused silence at their table, she glanced up to meet his smile. “If you stir that anymore, Autumn, you’ll have butter instead of cream in your coffee.”
She placed the spoon on the saucer and raised her russet eyebrows in guilty concession.
“Daydreaming?” he asked gently.
“Just thinking.”
“About me?”
There were so many things she would have liked to say at that moment, so many things that would forever go unsaid. With a soft, wistful laugh she shook her head. “I was thinking about restaurants and atmosphere—and how lucky I am to be here with you on the first day of fall.” She picked up her menu. “I’m starving. What should I order?”
From that point on the evening passed in comfortable enjoyment. The food was as good as Cade’s promise, but Autumn knew it was his charm, his ability to make her feel special in an ordinary world, that left the pleasurable taste. It took only a casual suggestion to persuade him that a leisurely drive would be a nice way to waste an hour.
He teased her when she began to yawn halfway through the hour. But Autumn had no intention of falling asleep and losing even a moment of the memories she was storing like handfuls of sunshine for a rainy day. She didn’t mean to let the conversation drift into companionable silence and she didn’t mean to close her eyes—not for a second—but it was so comfortable.
As the bronze strands of her hair brushed his shoulder, Cade took a deep, controlled breath and thought, Stay awake, Autumn. But in a glance he knew she was already asleep. With a carefully quiet sigh he put his arm around her and let her nestle against his side. He drove home and parked the car in his drive, thinking that he could walk Autumn home across the lawn in a few minutes—thinking anything to keep from thinking how good it felt to have her next to him.
The outside light cast a soft glow on the shadowy interior of the car, subduing color and basking Autumn’s vibrant energy in dusky sleep. Cade allowed himself the luxury of admiring her—a longing he’d denied all evening—and let his gaze touch her at will. A subtle fragrance tantalized him and he wanted badly to investigate the creamy expanse of her shoulder and discover the hidden scent. But he didn’t dare.
A throaty hum parted her lips and tenderness closed around his heart. She was content to be with him, awake or dreaming, and he was glad. With one hand tucked beneath her cheek, she looked sweetly innocent, but there, in the dark fringe of lashes, along the curve of her chin, in the seductive fullness of her lower lip ... he could see the sensuality, the untapped passion for life and love that was uniquely hers. The passion he wanted to claim for his own.
She stirred, curving one leg back to rest on the seat. The hem of her skirt slipped above her knee to reveal a slim thigh that tapered to a shapely calf and ankle. Her shoe, a lacy network of leather, hung loosely, half on, half off her slender foot. His gaze lingered along that foot as he warned himself to awaken her, to take her home, to put her safely beyond his reach. Each moment only served to make him more aware of the moments he couldn’t share with her. Each casual touch made him realize he was far from being the strong, invulnerable hero Autumn thought him to be.
He followed the path of light and shadow past the contours of her leg to the shimmering blue fabric that denied him further passage. Isn’t this a beautiful dress, Cade? she had asked him on some long-forgotten yesterday as she spun in slow circles for his approval. Do you think he will like it?
Cade had assured her that any he would have to be blind not to like it. As for himself, he had seldom paid that much attention to what she wore, not while she was still girlish enough to ask his opinion. He had answered her questions absently, never thinking that one day she would drift down the stairs in a dress that left him speechless, left him wanting to tell her she looked beautiful, but unable to do so. Anything more than the simple compliment he had finally managed to give would have confused her. And then he would have had to explain somehow ... and he didn’t dare.
To brush the tendrils of hair at her temple with his fingertips, to place a whisper-soft kiss against one red-gold curl, that was all he dared, for now, for ever. No. The moment of reckoning would come. Autumn would see the truth in his eyes someday and then, Lord only knew what he would dare.
“Autumn?” He called to her gently, knowing that he must wake her before he grew even more vulnerable to the feel of her in his arms. “Autumn.”
There was no response except for a slight change in the rhythm of her breathing. He leaned closer to her ear, automatically concealing his longing behind a façade of amusement. “Wake up, Autumn. Don’t you remember? You’re the one who wanted to dance every night until dawn, you’re the one who said you came alive in the nighttime. Were you only teasing me all those years ago, Autumn? Is there a magic spell to release the dancing fool in you?”
Heavy lashes made a lingering sweep across her cheek before rising upward. She moved, tilting her head back against his arm to look at him in drowsy question. “Cade?” she whispered. “I was dreaming. I was in a field of”—her voice faded sleepily—“of sunflowers and you were there too.” Her eyelids lowered, then slowly opened again. “Don’t tease me anymore, Cade. I’m too old to wear sunflowers in my hair.”
He smiled at the nonsensical request and held her as he waited for her to come fully awake. “I won’t tease you, Autumn,” he answered solemnly. “And I won’t ask you to wear sunflowers in your hair.” She was moving against him, her arms winding their way around his neck, pulling his head down, breathing his name in a husky, dreamy murmur. Before he had time to react, he knew the time for denial had already passed. Her lips were caressing his, following the outline of his mouth from one corner to the other. Her breath was warm, seductive; her body was softly yielding; her fingers were a tantalizing pressure at his nape. His will was nonexistent.
“What are you trying to do to me, Autumn?” He heard the hoarse quality of his whisper, but knew only the tender texture of her lips. Drowning. This must be the way it felt to drown, to spin in circles of knowing it couldn’t be happening, that any moment you would begin to resist, to save yourself. But he had no desire to be saved. His arms tightened around her as the kiss wove through his thoughts with sensuous persuasion.
Her mouth opened at his cue and it was his turn to caress the feminine contour of her lips. A tremor of sound vibrated against him and he felt his body respond. Gentle hands slid to her hips and pulled her closer, cradling her against his thigh. His fingers traced the satiny pattern of her dress, exploring the shape beneath the material. He hesitated when his knuckles brushed the slope of her breast, but with slight pressure, she pulled him deeper into the kiss and his palm covered the tautness that seemed to strain toward him.
He eased his mouth away from hers to discover the silken creaminess of her cheek, to find the delicate shell of her ear, and then to follow the curve of her shoulder. His heartbeat was an audible rhythm that echoed through him with each new delight. She was so lovely, so beautifully formed, and he wanted to intimately know more of her. His lips etched feathery circles on her bare skin and dipped lower to the inviting smoothness just below the neckline of her dress.
Deftly his hand went to her back and released the single fastening that held the neckline in place. He paused then, returning to her lips to claim her agreement. She clung to him, her acceptance, her willingness evident in the fierce emotion of her kiss. When he touched her, his fingers light and tender against her breast, she trembled and a low moan escaped her.
With the sound, Cade was suddenly aware that he was not drowning, that he could s
top this wonderful, sensual irresponsibility if he wanted. But he didn’t want to stop. He didn’t want to think clearly. He didn’t want to stop holding her, touching her, kissing her. She offered no resistance; she seemed eager to share his desire, so why should he be the one to say no? He had wanted her for so long, but even with the thought, he lessened the intensity of their embrace. This was Autumn who, in a few moments, would look at him if not accusingly, at least with eyes shadowed and dark with questions. He had protected her emotions too long and he couldn’t violate her trust any further. His hand moved from her breast, but before he replaced the material, he knew he couldn’t stop just yet. Slowly his lips left hers and he bent his head to sip at her rosy sweetness.
Her stillness conveyed that Autumn, too, was suddenly aware and he leisurely drew back, sliding her dress into place and fastening it as unobtrusively as he could. When he risked a glance at her, he felt his throat close in a tense knot. Her head was bent, but her arms still encircled him, her hands resting at his shoulders. A deep sigh began low in his chest and was trapped in his lungs as he held her to his side until her breathing slowed and the unnatural stiffness eased a little. He had to say something, had to make her understand.
Logic balked at that point. He didn’t understand what had just happened between them ... or perhaps he did. Autumn had been asleep, dreaming of things he knew nothing of, and he had taken advantage of her dreams. Her impulsive kiss had been just that, an impulse that he should have gently but firmly rejected.
She moved, drawing away from his hold, and this time he let her go. He felt the distance that settled between them, although she hadn’t physically moved far.
“You need to be more careful with those impulses,” he said thickly, but with what he hoped was a touch of his usual steadiness. “That one almost got us into more trouble than I could handle.” He felt the wounded look she turned to him, but forced himself not to see. “I know that you’ve been used to a different lifestyle, Autumn, but you’re home now. You can’t exchange kisses as casually as a handshake anymore, at least not here. You were with me and still things got out of hand. Demonstrations like that test even my control, so I hope you’ll be more careful in the future.” He was such a hypocrite. Whom was he kidding? No one except Autumn and maybe that was the reason for such a godawful speech. She was angry. He felt the tension in her strict posture, saw the stubborn angle of her chin.
“You can count on that, Cade. From now on I’ll be very careful about my impulses, but you might want to be more selective about your demonstrations. If an impulse can test your control, you should be very careful about the company you keep.” With that, she slid across the seat and got out of the car. Giving the door a definitive slam, she walked automatically toward the gap in the hedge between her home and Cade’s, defying him to follow her by the rigid set of her shoulders.
He didn’t even try to follow, and in a few minutes the night air had cooled her burst of temper, but had done nothing for the aching need inside her. She had been impulsive. She had awakened in his arms and it had seemed natural to stay there. She had wanted to kiss him, and kiss him she had. Her body stirred with the memory of his touch, the feel of his hands.
The hedge caught at her dress as she walked past. The material puckered despite her efforts to work it free without ruining her once-in-a-lifetime dress. It had been irresponsible to wear it in the first place, but she’d wanted to show Cade ... what? That she was grown-up? The very thought made it childish. But Cade’s actions were no better than her own, and she wouldn’t forgive him any too soon for making that comment about demonstrations. If she weren’t so desperately lost in loving him, she might just demonstrate some of her other impulses. But she was and she wouldn’t.
Frowning her displeasure with life in general, Autumn broke the twig that held her prisoner, even though she knew she would never get it out without tearing the fabric. It seemed fitting, somehow, that she now had a legitimate reason for never wearing the dress again.
Chapter Six
“Autumn, could I see you in my office, please?”
Autumn looked up, balancing herself with her hand on the lower shelf railing. Cade stood at the end of the store aisle, one side of his dark tweed jacket drawn back by the hand resting easily in his trouser pocket. The knot in his navy tie was as polished as the shine on his black leather shoes, and his oxford shirt was impressively white. Her breath made a quivery attempt to hold steady, but her heartbeat made no such effort.
For almost two weeks it had been the same. Every time she saw him, across the room or nearby, she felt the same tremulous sensations, remembered the taste of his lips, the touch of his hand. Even now her breasts throbbed with the memory. But she would pretend she didn’t remember, that she didn’t care. It was becoming a real challenge to pretend that nothing had happened, but Cade had set the guidelines by his own strict behavior.
“Autumn.” His voice, crisp and businesslike, broke into her thoughts and commanded her attention.
Reluctantly she met his gaze and thought that he didn’t need to make such a point of standing a careful distance away. If he’d stood right beside her, the distance between them wouldn’t have been any less obvious. With a sigh she stood up and half expected him to take a step back.
“I’d like to talk to you, please,” he stated in the same crisp tones. “In my office. In five minutes if that’s all right.”
He didn’t need to make such a point of being polite either. “Let’s make it now,” she said. “I’ve gotten reacquainted with all the sailing hardware I can stand for one morning. Besides, in five minutes I might have an engagement, or maybe even an invitation to lunch.” At one time Cade would have laughed and offered to share a sandwich. But not now. He didn’t laugh and whatever he planned to eat for lunch he clearly did not mean to share with her.
The smallest hint of a smile tucked in the corner of his mouth, but it meant nothing. Autumn had seen that parody too often during the past several days to be fooled by it. “If you already have plans,” he said, “then we’ll talk when you return.”
Her gaze fell to the pages in her hand. “I don’t have plans. I only said that five minutes from now I might have plans....” How ridiculous to explain when he’d known what she meant. He’d simply chosen to ignore it. “Let’s go.”
She walked past him, chin in the air, heart beating rapidly. Cade fell into step behind her, not so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her hair, but close enough that she could imagine how it might feel.
Her imagination seemed to be at its irresponsible worst lately, conjuring up fantasies when she should have been thinking of other things. Things like confirming arrangements with workmen so the renovations could begin as soon as she heard from the bank. Things like why she was being summoned to his office and what he wanted to talk about. But she couldn’t seem to concentrate on such things when he was anywhere near.
Cade stopped as they entered the reception area and Autumn paused inside his office doorway to look back. He was standing beside Marilynda’s desk and the smile she received was genuine. “Hold my calls for a while, Marilynda,” he said. “Autumn and I are having a ... stockholders meeting.”
Autumn dropped the inventory list she had been holding onto the desk and retreated to the window as Cade walked into the office and closed the door behind him. The room seemed to contract, the air vibrating with a tension that was too tangible to ignore, too sensitive to acknowledge. Clasping her hands in front of her, she watched him move to the desk. “The first official stockholders meeting in the history of Eastport, Inc.,” she said teasingly. “I’m glad I was invited, but don’t you think Ross should be here too?”
“I’ve just spoken with your brother on the telephone. He knows what you and I are going to discuss.”
Autumn frowned her discouragement. Obviously Cade intended to take seriously every word she uttered. She turned to look at the parking lot outside the window, hoping to ease the tight pressure
in her lungs. She heard the soft sound of leather yielding and knew that Cade had seated himself without waiting for her to do the same. Good. Maybe, at last, he was bending the rigid politeness of the past two weeks. She’d begun to think he was as stiff as the business suits he invariably wore to the office.
“Autumn, I’ve made a decision.” A chill seeped through her with the note of determination in his voice. But as she pivoted toward him, a slow tide of awareness warmed her. He was watching her carefully, his blue eyes shadowed with an indefinable caution. A tug of sympathy pulled at her heart and she wondered if they would ever be completely at ease with each other again.
“A decision?” she asked. “What about?”
“Your boutique. Ross and I have decided you should go ahead with the idea. I phoned the bank this morning and was told it will be at least another week before they’ll have an answer for you. James Clayton was called out of town and there doesn’t seem to be anyone else authorized to make the credit approval.”
Autumn couldn’t help but smile. “You mean the bank’s still open? I thought when the banker left town, he locked the bank doors behind him.”
“Eastport isn’t that small, Autumn.” His gaze softened somewhat. “You’ve just been spoiled by the fast pace of the city. Things may move a little slower here, but they do move.”
“I wasn’t complaining, Cade.”
“I know.”
Their eyes held in a moment of understanding that was almost friendly, but wasn’t quite natural. The tension altered suddenly, the cautious distance between them melting into a new and subtle closeness. Autumn looked away, afraid of what Cade might see, afraid of the futile wishes in her own heart.
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