Intimate Portraits

by Cheryl B. Dale

  Autumn took the card and looked at it unseeingly.

  Too dazed to function. He was the one who had to ask, “Was it arson?”

  “We can’t say for sure at this point.” The man fingered his collar.

  “But you can guess.”

  The man tugged at his collar hard, like it was way too tight. “Well, from what I understand, the way the cabinets were open, the way fire burned from the middle area outward, then yes, I’d guess it was set deliberately.” He turned to Autumn. “I suppose you’ll be notifying your insurance company, Ms. Merriwell. They’ll want to work with us, I’m sure. To see that you can collect the insurance as quickly as possible, I mean.”

  Her lips pressed together. Rennie could almost see her don the regal calm that was her disguise for dismay and anger. And fear.

  “I’m sure they’ll be interested in working out the insurance payouts. But I’m more interested in catching the arsonist than I am in collecting the insurance. Besides negatives spanning sixty years, I had several irreplaceable cameras in there. My Graflex, my Rolleiflex, my Brownie collection. Some have been—” The crisp tone faltered. “Some had been in my family for decades. Whoever did this ought to have to pay.”

  “Yes, ma’am. He’ll pay all right,” the fireman assured them.

  “If you catch him,” Rennie murmured.

  The man twisted a ballpoint pen in his hands. “If we can catch him. Or her. Yes.”

  On the way back to her condo, Rennie stopped at a deli. It was nearly deserted at the late hour, but they got sandwiches and decaf coffee. He wasn’t hungry, but he ate so she would.

  It didn’t work. She toyed with stale chips but mostly held the steaming coffee in both hands. He did get her to take a few bites of the tuna sandwich, but when she pushed her basket away, he leaned back in the booth. “Okay. You can either go to Mom’s or I’ll stay with you. Which would you prefer?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m fine. It was a fire. Other people have gone through them and survived, and I will, too.”

  He didn’t like her pallor or the taut way the skin stretched across her cheekbones. “Look, Autumn. A knife or something like it stuck you in the back and pitched you over that bridge last night. If it hadn’t been for your butt pack, you could be dead. This morning, a woman wearing a coat like yours was killed. Now we find your studio’s burned to the ground. That’s a little too much coincidence. I don’t think any ex-husband shot Kiki. I think someone’s after you.”

  Her expression didn’t change. “I've thought of that.”

  So she’d reached the same conclusion.

  She ran a finger around the rim of the foam cup. “But why? I don’t know anyone who would want to hurt me. And to burn my studio, destroy my cameras, my photos—” She took a tiny sip.

  He followed the pulse in her throat as she swallowed. “Do you think someone could have taken exception to the kind of photography you’ve been doing lately?”

  “My photography?”

  “Erotic stuff. Nudes. You know.” He ran a hand through his curls. “Maybe some kind of nutty fundamentalist got his dander up. You know how intolerant they’re getting. Down here in the South we have our loonies when it comes to Bible-thumpers.”

  “In this day and age? Come on, Rennie. That might be true in rural areas, but we’re on the outskirts of Atlanta. People are a lot more broad‑minded here. Besides, I don’t take photographs for magazines or newspapers. They’re for individuals. They're personal, private. I think you’re on the wrong track.”

  “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.

  D
idn’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.”

  “Autumn—”

  She moved toward him, holding out a hand. “What else do I have to do?” She caught his shoulders and looked him in the eyes, holding her mouth up next to his.

  Kiss me, you idiot.

  He gave an angry exclamation before bending down.

  What started off as an impatient gesture turned into a fierce kiss totally unlike the ones showered on her when he found her inside the cabin after Kiki’s death. This kiss hurt her mouth and left her helpless. His hand caught her breast and kneaded it with a discomfort that would have made her pull away had she been capable of movement.

  She couldn’t think. She was mindless, dazed. Delirious. He did care, did want her. He couldn’t deny his need after this.

  Don’t think.

  She opened her mouth and pressed herself against him.

  In the midst of her response, he pushed her away and stepped back. “Madre de Dios. Don’t you see, Autumn? Don’t you understand why you can’t love me, why we can’t do this?”

  “No.”

  Her voice stopped him. His chest rose and fell with harsh, ragged breaths.

  Her own lips stung, her own lungs gasped for air. “I love you, Rennie, and you can’t change that. No matter what you say, what you think. I've known you since I was five years old and I love you.”

  His shoulders slumped. “I didn’t… Autumn.”

  She loved that face, with its deep-set brown eyes and the aquiline nose and the wide mouth pliant from her kisses.

  He licked his lips, screwed up his eyes as if to make her disappear. “I’d drive you away. Sooner or later you’d be sorry you ever thought you were in love with me. But God help me, every time I get near you, it’s all I can do to remember how you deserve so much better than me.”