Intimate Portraits (23 page)

“Never got any letters or
threatening phone calls?”

“No. Except from some man who
thought he’d dialed Merriwell Used Cars. Look, Rennie, I don’t do pornographic
stuff. And not that many people know what I do.” She took a sip of decaf.

“How did you get started?”

“I did a portrait for a customer
shortly after I joined Aunt Laura.” Her hand twisted on the coffee cup. “She
wanted to do something special for her husband’s fortieth birthday and had
thought of posing in a hot tub. When I went out to her house, we had a great
time thinking of different outfits for there and also her bedroom. She loved
the pictures and showed some of them to her friends and they wanted some done. Then
they told their friends, and it kind of snowballed.”

“Do you advertise?”

“No. I’ve done several hundred
people since then, and the women have all come from word-of-mouth recommendations.
Even Sarita Sartowe heard about me through Reseda. Your mom told Kaneka about
me, and she told Sarita.”

The words brought him back to
reality. His mother cleaned the mansion where Sarita’s mother and stepfather
lived. Reseda Degardovera washed fine china and polished real silver for her
clients.

While her own family ate
sandwiches off paper towels and drank soft drinks and beer straight from the
can.

And Degardovera relatives in
Mexico lived in dirt-floor shacks like the one Reseda had left thirty-eight
years before.

No matter how successful he was, Rennie
could never get away from his heritage.

I’m too tired to think about what
this means.
He
yawned in spite of himself.

Autumn, sensitive to others,
immediately pushed her cup aside. “You’re exhausted, Rennie. Let’s leave so you
can take me home. You need to go on and get to bed.”

As if she wasn’t exhausted
herself. “Didn’t you hear a word I said? You could be dead or hurt. You aren’t
going to stay at your place alone where anyone can find you. It’s too dangerous
until we know more about what’s going on.”

“Rennie.” Reserve forgotten, she
reached across the booth and touched his hand. Fire leaped through his skin.
“You look worried.”

He set his teeth. “Mom’s place or
me on the sofa. Take your pick.”

She drew back. “You’re serious.”

“Listen, I was going to Athens
tomorrow, to look for a place to live. You don’t have anywhere to go, not with
the studio gone. Come with me.”

He wanted to touch her hand, but
didn’t. She might be upset and in need of comforting right now, but their
embrace the past night and its aftermath told him what his comfort would lead
to.

No matter how he felt, and he was
beginning to think he’d been fooling himself about Autumn for the past thirteen
years, he wouldn’t take advantage of her and do something she would most
certainly regret later.

“We’ll ramble around Athens and
visit all the sights,” he coaxed. “We can spend the night at Mom’s house and
leave straight from there, what do you say?”

“Sorry.” The imperturbable
princess was back. “Any other time, Rennie. But now I’ve got too much to do. A
lot of calls to return and a lot of work finding a place for a new studio. I’m
not going to be run out of my home or my business.”

“Then I’ll stay with you.”

“Fine. You won’t even have to sleep
on the sofa. I’ve got a spare room.” One delicate brow arched. “I need some
milk and bread. Can we stop at the Kroger store?”

“Sure.”

Spending the night with Autumn.
All he needed.

He ought to go home, make sure his
body was safely removed from temptation. But he couldn’t. Not and make sure she
stayed safe. “We’ll stop wherever you like.”

As he waited in the car while she
ran into the store, he wished the idea of sleeping in Autumn’s spare room didn’t
sound so appealing. She’d be in bed across the hall, all soft and inviting and
wearing a seductive black nightgown like that one of Laney’s while he…

He was going to have to take a
cold shower.

Chapter 14

Refusing Rennie’s offer of help
once they reached her condo, Autumn took charge of the plastic grocery bags and
their interesting contents herself. “You can carry the milk.”

Since she’d agreed to let him
babysit her, one priority had sent thoughts of death and fire to the back of
her mind.

Maybe Rennie did believe she was
in danger. Or maybe he subconsciously wanted to stay with her for other
reasons.

Didn’t matter. She was going for
broke tonight.

“There, everything’s like I left
it,” she said when he had made a circuit of the upstairs and downstairs with
Squeaky trailing behind. “If you want to go along home, I’m sure there’s
nothing to worry about.”

“You’re stuck with me, lady.”

She lowered her lashes so he
couldn’t read the plans taking shape. No sense in scaring him off. “Fine.”

The spare room was directly
across from her bedroom. She was on her home court. And she intended to seize the
advantage to sweep aside Rennie’s scruples.

Besides, his presence reassured
her. Despite her protests, this strange weekend had spooked her.

No, she wouldn’t think about
that. Easier to look at Rennie’s long, rangy form and luxuriate in his
presence.

There was no Victoria around to
lighten his mood, but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he looked pretty
satisfied at having to spend the night with Autumn.

Not that he planned to spend the
night
with
her, exactly.

He intended to keep her company,
drive away the ghosts of Kiki and the fire-ravaged studio while they puzzled
over whether or how they were connected.

The important thing was that he
was here in her condo.

When she got out fresh sheets, he
came to the spare room to help. Squeaky, vying for attention, got on the bed
when they stated to make it up. Autumn kissed the little head, put her out into
the hall and closed the door.

Without Squeaky’s help, the yards
of cotton billowed smoothly across the bed, forming a tangible connection
between her and Rennie as they worked in companionable silence. Once their fingers
met while smoothing the linen, and the touch set her burning. She was convinced
his eyes whispered of desire and perhaps something deeper before they were averted.

He did care for her. And not like
a sister, or else he wouldn’t have kissed her that way last night. Neither
would he have rushed to her and clung to her this morning when he found out she
wasn’t Kiki.

When they finished making up the
spare bed, the affronted Squeaky sneaked in to claim a place on the clean
sheets.

He didn’t notice because he was
chuckling at the guest basket with toothbrush, toothpaste, mouthwash and other
sundries she set out. “How efficient. I should have expected as much from you. Do
you treat all your guests this way?”

Was he making fun of her? “Yes,
and I use disposable razors if you need to borrow one. I draw the line at
loaning my clothes, though, no matter how much you beg to use my Wonderbra.”

His eyebrows shot up. His gaze involuntarily
went to her breasts.

She shrugged. “They may be real
but they're maximized. So now you know all my secrets.”

“Do I?” He sounded edgy.

Good
. “Yes. I don’t like sharing my
toothbrush and I’m flat-chested. You must have noticed that yesterday.”

Oh, and by the way, I love you
.

The reminder of the scene in the
bathroom brought a quick inhalation, but he didn’t pick up her cue. “And no
loaning me clothes, eh? Sure about that? I love that snowman sweater.”

“Positive. Anything but clothes.”
All right, he wanted to keep things light. She could oblige. “Besides, I doubt
my things would flatter you, Rennie. Pinks and lavenders are more suited to
your complexion than blues and browns.”

“If you won’t loan me your
clothes, how about your jingle bell earrings?” He flapped a wrist. “I’ve been
green with envy ever since you jingled them my way last night, sweetie.”

“You’re as bad as Fran.”

His good mood faded.

Oh, pooh. He and Fran were adults
now. That troubled boyhood contention between them should be over.

Even if Fran did act like she was
a pawn in the one-upmanship game, Rennie wouldn’t retaliate.

He wasn’t flirting with her because
Fran liked her.

Fran was the one who wanted
whatever Rennie had. Rennie had let his younger brother cut him out at dances
and borrow his clothes without complaint. With his sunny nature, he never minded
that Fran stole his girls and beat him in tennis. Or if he did, he never showed
it.

“Okay.” She backed away. “All
set. Throw Squeaky out and close the door or her snoring will keep you awake.” In
the hall, she waved toward the bathroom. “Towels and washcloths on the shelves.
Soap and shampoo in the shower. If you need anything else, let me know.”

He stepped past her into her
bedroom to stare at Fran’s photograph that dominated the wall.

She recognized that look. Did he
still think she and Fran were even slightly involved romantically? She’d put a
stop to
that
. She strolled over to him, crossed her arms. “I’ll give it
back to him one of these days.”

“Will you?”

“Uh huh. He’ll have a new girlfriend
before we know it, and he can have it for her.”

“Can you give it up that easily?”
His voice was flat, noncommittal.

“I don’t want it.”

“Don’t you?”

“No. Never did. It just kind of
landed here.”

She wanted Rennie and almost said
so.

No, she’d told him already. No
sense in beating him over the head.

Avoiding his brother’s
photograph, Rennie wandered further into her room. He picked up a water sphere,
one that played music and let snowflakes drift down over an ice skater with her
back arched gracefully as she endlessly spun round with tiny foot and hand in the
air.

Autumn watched him as he wound
the music globe and shook it. His invasion of her space didn’t bother her like
anyone else’s would.

The flakes drifted down, the
skater turned. He held it up. “Everything’s perfect in your house. Even this.”

“Laney gave me that for Christmas
when we were little.”

“I remember. The funny thing is
that it isn’t out of place here. You know how to pull it all together. What
curtains to hang with what upholstery, which paintings go on what wall, what
bric-a-brac to set on your dresser.” The swirling flakes seemed to enthrall
him.

“I collect things that I like.” What
was going through his mind? What was he was leading up to? “As for putting them
all together, if they look okay together, fine. If not, tough.”

“I’ve always envied people with
so much confidence in their tastes that they don’t care what others think.” He
set the sphere down carefully.

He didn’t have to be so distant.
So brooding.

“What does taste have to do with
it? Everyone’s different.” Somehow she’d lost the slender thread of their old
childhood connection. He was moving beyond her and she couldn’t catch up. “Everyone
makes their nests as comfortable as they can. That’s why a home is called a
home.”

“Sometimes it doesn’t work out
like that.” He glanced toward Fran’s picture and away. “I have a painting,” he
said slowly. “I wish you could see it. It isn’t at all like the stuff you have
hanging. I’m not sure it’s the kind of thing even a geeky computer nerd like me
ought to have in his apartment, but I like it. I wonder what you would think. It’s
wild and unwieldy. Flamboyant."

“Sounds like you.”

He didn’t grin. “Nobody important
painted it. And it’s on black velvet.”

So that was it. He was pointing
out again how different she was from him, telling her that she would never fit
in with him and his life, that they would never be suited. Why couldn’t he
understand she didn’t care about superficialities?

“Funny, I’ve never thought of you
as a nerd, computer or any other kind.” She held her voice steady. “And I’d
hate to think you were surrounding yourself with things you thought your
scholarly image needed. If you like a painting on black velvet, I can’t see
that anything else matters.”

“But what if it’s in bad taste,
Autumn?” His dark gaze swung round, fastened on her. “What if it’s so atrocious
you’re embarrassed for me?”

This dancing around was getting
ridiculous.

Come out and say it.

She uncrossed her arms. “I like
you, Rennie. No. I love you. I’ve already told you I love you. And I love you
too much to want you to do things or buy things or change your life to please
me. Is that what this is about, your stupid preoccupation with who you think I
am, or who you think you are?” Anger grew. “What do I have to do to convince
you I love you for yourself, whoever you are? I’ve demeaned myself, laid myself
out like a doormat for you, and you won’t even step on me.”