Chapter Eight

 

Autumn slept little that night. She stood at her bedroom window, alternately holding the curtain open and pulling it closed. The bed provided a place to lie when she grew tired of standing; the pillow offered a cushion for thoughts too heavy to hold upright; the scene below her window gave her something to stare at while the never-ending questions rolled wearily through her mind. It shouldn’t have happened, he had said. But it had.

From window to bed to window, she paced, occasionally dozing fretfully in between. Morning came with a headache and a phone call.

“Autumn? This is Cade.” He sounded as if he were a world away. Her heart plummeted to her feet, then soared to quiver in her throat. Everything she would have liked to say became tangled in memories of how very close they had been only hours before. “Autumn?” he repeated, so calmly, so coolly.

She could hardly believe it was his voice and she could hardly believe she stood, stupidly silent, gripping the phone as if her existence would shatter if she dropped it. “Yes?” At last she managed a solid, if somewhat shaky, answer.

“I know it’s early, but—” His easy confidence seemed to desert him at that point and he said nothing for the space of several heartbeats. “Are you all right?”

No. She was never going to be all right again. But the tenderness, the familiar attempt to comfort that edged his voice, prevented her from saying so. “Yes,” she lied. Her voice had an underlying crispness to it, an almost brittle tone.

Silence trembled along the phone lines and surrendered to caution. “I’m leaving for Annapolis this morning,” he said, “and I won’t return until after the sailboat show. Can you handle things at the store? It’ll be next weekend before I get back.”

“That’s fine. Everything will be fine,” she hastened to interrupt, to stop the bittersweet ache she felt at being suddenly separated from him, but she hadn’t intended to sound indifferent. In the past that had been a sure signal to Cade. He’d never failed to pick up on the hurt that hid behind her show of unconcern.

At least, he’d never before failed to notice. “Then I won’t worry. I know how much you love to take charge.”

She could have killed him for using that teasing tone. Now, of all times. How could he? But still he went on. “I’ll expect to see swimsuits in the window when I get back.”

“Don’t set your expectations too high.”

His pause was a mere breath of quiescence. “No. I won’t do that. If you need any help—”

She replaced the receiver with a click and Cade felt his grip on the telephone go slack. He stared at the instrument in his hand before he returned it to the cradle. It made a hollow, synthetic clatter and he frowned. Only a moment ago he’d heard the rich huskiness inherent in Autumn’s voice and yet there had been a new inflection. She might have been sleepy—had she been able to sleep? Had she dreamed of him? No, he would have recognized the sound of drowsiness. It was something different, something he’d never heard before, at least not from Autumn. Caution perhaps? Disappointment? Regret?

It didn’t matter. Later he would wonder how she felt, what she thought, but not now. Not when he was close enough to follow that phone call with a visit. Not when he was in a mood to ask questions that he had no right to ask. Not when he would demand answers that he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear.

He’d been unprepared for her to return, unprepared for the changes in her and totally, completely, unprepared for the inevitability of what had happened between them last night. Say it, his mind commanded, but he shunned the thought and walked to the window. There across the yard, beyond the hedge, just above the spiky top of the evergreen tree, was Autumn’s window. Was she there now, watching him, thinking of him as he was her?

Admit it, came the whisper of conscience again. Cade closed his eyes and remembered the feel of her in his arms, the taste and sight and scent of her as they’d made love. Slowly he opened his eyes and absorbed the meaning of the words. Last night he had made love to Autumn. No, his lips curved gently in correction. Last night he had made love with Autumn. For the first time in his life he understood the difference.

He hadn’t allowed himself to say it or even think it until now. The tender reality of loving her and the chafing irritation of doubting her weren’t compatible. And so he hadn’t let his thoughts dwell on either one. He’d lain on the bed, staring at the ceiling and planning—careful, complicated planning that brought no resolution or comfort. He would go to Annapolis immediately. The boat show was only a few days away and offered a logical excuse for putting Autumn safely out of his reach. There were people he needed to see at the show, things he could do, but above all he would be able to think, to decide how to cope with the change in his relationship with her. When he saw her again, he would be prepared.

Purposefully he turned from the window and surveyed the room. The bed with all the wrinkles smoothed from sight, the suitcase that was packed and waiting, the now silent phone that could convey so much or so little. He shouldn’t have phoned her, but he couldn’t just leave without a word. That was too much like running away, and he wasn’t running. He simply had to have some time.

Cade crossed the room and lifted the suitcase, knowing he must go, wanting instead to go to Autumn, to talk to her, share with her....

But that was what he had to discover. It might never again be possible to be with Autumn, to really talk with her, to share with her ... to make love with her.

He had to face his doubts, his limitations, and his alternatives. He must decide what he could dare to hope for and what he might have to settle for. Don’t set your expectations too high, he warned himself.

With a heavy and heartfelt sigh he walked from the room and closed the door behind him.

* * * *

Autumn slumped into the easy comfort of Cade’s office chair and propped her feet on the corner of his desk. Beyond the closed door of the office, saws whined and hammers banged. She hadn’t realized it would take quite so much noise to redo one relatively small corner of the store. Enthusiasm among the employees had waned noticeably since the work commenced, and Autumn was becoming adept at smiling and nodding sympathetically when customers complained.

Small wonder that Ross had made only a brief appearance to “check on the progress” before he and Lorna left for Annapolis. They had gone just for the weekend, returning on Sunday with an evening’s worth of “You should have been there,” and “You’ll never guess who we ran into,” and other interesting details about the sailboat show. Autumn had been interested, but she’d really wanted to ask if they’d seen Cade and what he was doing and if he’d, by any chance, asked about her. His name had drifted into the conversation only once, though, and then Lorna had merely commented that he’d seemed preoccupied.

With a frown Autumn picked up a rubber band from the desktop and idly wrapped it around her finger. Obviously he must still be preoccupied, as it was now Wednesday and he hadn’t returned or even phoned. She had thought he would at least check on how things were going at the store, but if he did, the calls stopped short of reaching her.

Marilynda had probably set his mind at rest over the weekend. She, too, had attended the boat show and returned to the office with glowing accounts of all she’d learned. But there’d been no mention of Cade, except in an offhand, impersonal way.

Autumn couldn’t keep from wondering how a weekend with Cade could be impersonal, but then, her perspective wasn’t exactly unbiased at the moment. With a grimace of distaste for her train of thought, she flipped the rubber band across the room and turned her attention to the letter lying open on her lap. The message hadn’t changed. It still conveyed a firm, uncompromising no. The bank had denied her request for a line of credit.

James Clayton had phoned the day before to warn her that the letter was coming and to explain why he’d had to refuse. She’d listened, although she really didn’t want to hear that the bank was being more conservative in these uncertain economic times; that at this time the bank couldn’t afford to extend credit to a new and somewhat uncertain business venture; that the bank regretted its inability to help a valued customer, but if the bank could be of any service at a later date....

The explanations had rolled on in the same abstract vein until Autumn had finally concluded the conversation with an insincere thank you and a meaningful goodbye.

Cade had said if the Eastport bank turned down her request, he would help her get the credit elsewhere. She began folding the corners of the letter as she decided that, at least, the subject of money would be an effective icebreaker when he returned. If that didn’t restore a measure of equanimity between them, nothing could.

His reaction to the bank’s denial of credit and to the remodeling work already done would tell her a lot about how he planned to treat the undeniable fact that they had passed the point of friendship. A slow, sweet shiver ebbed through her as it did every time she thought of making love with him. Would she ever stop remembering? Would she be able to act as if it had never happened?

No, and she wasn’t even going to try. She and Cade were going to talk, regardless of how he might feel about it. Just as soon as he came home.

The letter, folded into a neat airplane, sailed across the room on the wings of her resolve and landed on the edge of the windowsill. It dipped indecisively toward the floor, righted itself, then dipped again. Autumn reached for another rubber band and placed it carefully on her fingertip.

“Glad to see you’re keeping busy.” Cade’s voice came from the doorway and made her drop her feet from the top of his desk with a guilty start. The rubber band fell to the floor in unison with the paper plane and she swiveled the chair around to face him.

Leaning against the doorjamb, dressed in deck shoes, weathered jeans, and a soft plaid flannel shirt partially hidden by the navy Windbreaker he wore, Cade looked so endearingly familiar that Autumn couldn’t contain her smile. It widened in greeting and with the sheer pleasure of seeing him again.

She took another rubber band from the drawer and twirled it artfully around her finger. “It’s a dirty job,” she said with a saucy little shrug, “but someone’s got to do it.”

His lips slanted a slow response and his eyes warmed to a summer-sky blue. “I’ve been telling you that for years, but you’ve always insisted I should do it.”

“I haven’t changed my mind, Cade. After all, fair is fair and you do own twice as much of this place as I do.”

“Does that mean you’re ready to relinquish the seat of authority?”

She relaxed against the chair back. “The job, yes. The chair? No way. I’m claiming one-fourth of this office and at the moment that includes a place to sit.”

“And all the rubber bands in my desk drawer,” he said as he moved away from the doorway—leaving the door noticeably open—to sit in one of the chairs across from her. “Remodeling is hard work, isn’t it?”

“Did you see what’s been done?” Enthusiasm, kept too long to herself, bubbled to the surface and she forgot everything else except sharing it with him. “I had no idea the work would go so fast. They’re going to finish by Saturday and then I have to arrange for the staining, painting, and carpeting to be done—wait until you see the carpet. I can hardly believe it, there is actually going to be one corner of the store that has honest to goodness carpeting.”

“Yes. I can hardly believe that myself.” A wry smile punctuated the droll comment. “I looked around before I came into the office. It’s really taking shape, Autumn. Another week and you’ll be stocking bathing suits on the shelves and vacuuming the carpet every five minutes.”

“A little more than a week, Cade. Things don’t move quite that fast, even in New York. I’m going to have to make a couple of buying trips before we can begin to think about stocking the shelves.”

“You’re going to New York?” The question was brusque and quick.

Autumn hesitated, suddenly aware of her tension, suddenly aware that she wanted to kiss him. “Yes,” she said, and wondered how he could miss the significance of her deeply indrawn breath. “Next week. And after that I’m going to Dallas to look for merchandise. It’s going to take some speedy footwork to get the boutique stocked and ready for business in just a few weeks. I’ll have to settle for a limited inventory to begin with, but next year....”

“How long are you staying?”

With a blink of confusion she sorted through his change of subject. “In Dallas? Four days.”

“No, how long are you staying in New York?” He appeared relaxed and at ease, but Autumn sensed that the illusion cost him considerable effort.

“Only as long as it takes to get what I want.”

His eyes narrowed, then turned to the window. “We’re going to have to talk, Autumn.”

She inhaled sharply and her heart pounded furiously against her ribs. Odd, how confidence and courage could vanish without a trace when confronted with vulnerable reality. “Oh? What about?”

The room filled suddenly with an unseen, but pulsating presence, a tight, nerve-shattering quiet that was as real as it was intangible. Cade kept his gaze on the window; his fingers curved over the arm of the chair. Slowly he lowered his gaze to the floor and stopped. His expression creased in puzzlement before he moved to get the letter airplane. As he unfolded the page, he straightened and then read in silence.

Autumn willed her pulse to take advantage of the respite and prepare for a personal and emotionally risky discussion. When he turned to her, though, there was no hint of any deep emotion in his eyes.

“Weren’t you going to tell me about this?”

“Of course, but I didn’t want to hit you with it the moment you walked through the door.”

“Why not? You’ve never hesitated to present me with your problems before.”

A frown tugged persistently at her mouth. “I wasn’t hesitating. It just didn’t seem so important that I had to blurt it out the minute I saw you. You’d already told me we’d get the line of credit somewhere else if the Eastport bank turned us down.”

“Us?” He read the letter again. “This is your project, Autumn. Don’t forget that, but I’ll talk to James and see what I can find out about this.”

“I’ve already talked with him—at length.”

“And he won’t reconsider?”

She shook her head. “Not unless I can magically produce more collateral. My interest in the company, for instance.”

“I don’t want you to do that.”

“I may not have any other choice.”

His gaze slid to her and lingered for a thoughtful instant. “Are you positive you really want to do this, Autumn?”

“The boutique? Yes, Cade, I’m positive.”

A gentle smile tipped his lips. “All right then. Don’t worry, then. I’ll take care of this for you.”

It wasn’t the words as much as their indulgent tone that stripped away the years and made her feel like an awkward adolescent eagerly discarding problems and responsibilities on Cade’s capable shoulders. She shattered the image in a slow, purposeful voice. “I’d prefer you didn’t.”

His expression became guarded then, questioning and faintly cautious. “Why not?”

“As you said, this is my project. And that includes handling the problems. I can handle this, you know.”

“It could be more difficult than you expect.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll get the line of credit.”

“While you’re in New York?”

“I don’t know. That’s a possibility, I suppose.”

He dropped the bank’s letter onto the edge of the desk and shoved a hand into his jacket pocket. “Then you don’t need my help.”

Autumn sighed, wondering how the first easy moments of sharing had led to this defensive exchange. “Of course, I need your help. I would never have considered opening the boutique if I hadn’t known I could depend on you. But I can’t let you take care of every problem for the rest of my life.”

“In that case, I withdraw my offer of assistance and suggest that you allow me to take charge of my section of this office.” He spoke lightly, but she saw the heaviness in his eyes and felt the cool distance return to taunt her.

She stood because it seemed to be what he expected her to do, but when he walked around the desk she made no move to step aside. Her heart made a soft murmur of protest when he ignored her nearness and slipped off his jacket and hung it on the back of the chair. In a moment he would have to turn to her, would have to touch her, and in that split-second Autumn ached with the need to say, I love you, Cade. I want you to take care of me for the rest of my life.

He turned then, but he didn’t look directly at her. His attention was focused on the desktop clutter, and as his hands touched her waist to move her out of his way, she knew she didn’t have the courage to voice her need aloud.

He seated himself and leafed through a few marina orders before his gaze shifted to hers. “Thanks for watching the office while I was gone,. Any problems? I mean any that you couldn’t handle?”

“No.” None, except for being desperately in love with you and desperately afraid to tell you so.

“Good.” He lifted the stack of mail and began sorting through it.

Autumn swallowed, took a deep breath, and released it. “I—was there something you wanted to talk about?”

He tensed, and for the first time, looked uncomfortable. “This isn’t the right time. Maybe when you get back from New York ... if you decide to come back.”

“If I decide…?” Her eyes flashed in sudden amazement and anger. “Is that what you think? That once I get to New York again I’ll just forget about coming back to Eastport? Do you believe I’d simply change my mind about the boutique without a second’s consideration for the time and money already invested?”

To his credit, he didn’t say it aloud, but Autumn heard it in his challenging silence, knew the thought he hid from her view. It wouldn’t be the first time. And she suddenly realized that to him the boutique was nothing more than dozens of other projects she’d undertaken in the past. A way to channel her energy and soothe her restless spirit, a new goal to pursue until a brighter star caught her eye.

Cade doubted her. The truth seeped through her mind and clogged in her throat. She turned from him quickly, making her way to the doorway.

“Autumn!” he called, and she stopped as she heard the sound of his footsteps behind her. “Autumn, I ...”

The stillness inside her was edged with hope, but woven with dread. He didn’t believe in her ability to act responsibly or to carry a plan through to completion. She would have to prove herself to him, even though it seemed unfair and unnecessary. If there was anyone in the world who should know her, who should understand and accept her, it was Cade.

But if he needed proof, she would give it. Maybe in some intangible way it would show him how much she loved him, not because she needed his help, but because she needed him.

If only he would touch her now, just place his hand on her shoulder or accidentally brush his fingers against her hair....

The phone buzzed a demanding intrusion and he retraced his steps to the desk. “Yes?” he answered as he watched Autumn walk from the room and through the reception area. He’d hurt her and he hadn’t meant to do that. As he settled back into the chair, he stared at the ceiling, his immediate attention on the telephone conversation, but his thoughts with Autumn.

As he replaced the receiver in its cradle he rubbed his temples and decided he was a first-rate coward. He had spent countless hours during the past week thinking, debating, questioning, and reaching a decision, only to have his courage desert him at the first glimpse of Autumn. She had seemed genuinely glad to see him and for a few minutes he’d thought everything might be all right, but when it came to voicing the emotion he felt so deeply, he’d hesitated, and the opportunity had vanished.

He’d come home intending to be honest. He had planned to tell her that he loved her, that he knew she would need time to adjust to the idea, but that he was willing to wait. And he’d been prepared—or so he’d thought—to accept whatever decision she made. But he’d seen her eager smile of greeting and he’d known he couldn’t accept just any decision she gave him. It was all or nothing. And in those first moments his plans had seemed too risky, so he’d looked for an excuse to delay—and found one.

He didn’t understand how the bank could have turned her down and yet, hadn’t he half hoped that they would? Then she would have to turn to him; she would need his help and in some inexplicable way she would understand that he needed her. But she had made it crystal-clear that she could manage on her own. She was intent on proving him wrong, on showing him how independent and grown-up she could be, and though he didn’t intend to, he seemed to spur that stubborn determination every time she was within ten feet of him.

He stopped massaging his temples, but the dull pounding inside went on and, with a rueful frown, he realized Autumn’s boutique was already supplying him with a good-sized headache. The busy sounds vibrating through the building reminded him that it was too late to wish that she’d forget the whole idea. She was committed and he knew he’d been unfair when he’d made the comment about her staying in New York. She would be back; if only because he’d voiced a doubt that she would.

And in the meantime he could only hope his courage would develop a stronger resolve. Maybe when she returned from the buying trips, he would be able to tell her what he’d wanted to tell her today. Who would ever have thought it could be so difficult to say I love you to the woman he’d loved with all his heart for so many years?