She laughed and shook her head. “I should have k
nown.”
“Admit it, Autumn. You’re crazy about me,” he accused lightly, though his eyes glittered intently in the flickering candlelight.
“I think I’m just crazy,” she said with a sigh, implicitly confirming the accusation.
To her relief, Jeff changed the subject. “I can’t wait until we dance together after dinner. I love dancing with you when you’re wearing that gold thing.”
“So that’s why you requested that I wear this tonight. You wanted to cop a feel on the dance floor.”
Jeff laughed. “You have such a delicate way with words, Autumn.”
Her laughter blended with his, and she felt herself slipping even further under his spell. The word “love” hovered in her mind. She could deal with that word, she mused consideringly. Love wasn’t nearly as threatening as need. She practiced saying “I love you” in her mind, her eyes dwelling on Jeff’s face as he told her a funny story about something Pam had done earlier that day. She wasn’t certain when—or if—she’d have the courage to say it aloud, but the words came surprisingly easy to her mind.
She reached across the table and caught his hand, lifting it to her lips in an uncharacteristic display of affection. Jeff ended his story in midsentence, his eyes darkening at the look on her face. “I don’t know if we’ll make it through an entire dance,” he told her hoarsely.
Rubbing her cheek against his knuckles, she smiled at him. “I don’t mind if you don’t.”
And they didn’t.
AUTUMN’S DOORBELL CHIMED at just after six on the following Wednesday evening. Stifling a moan, she started to rise to answer the door, but Webb stopped her with a firm hand pressed to her shoulder. “Don’t you move,” he ordered her sternly. “I’ll get it.”
“Webb, you’re driving me insane. Why don’t you go away?” she asked petulantly.
“This is the thanks I get for taking care of you when you’re wounded?” Webb demanded indignantly, throwing her an exaggeratedly insulted look over his shoulder as he turned the doorknob. “Oh, it’s you, Jeff.”
From the angle at which she was lying on her couch, Autumn could see Jeff quite clearly. She watched his eyes narrow at the man who opened Autumn’s door. “Are you here again, Webb? I think you and I are going to have to talk.”
Autumn blinked at the very male tone and lifted her head from the pillow Webb had insisted on fetching for her a few minutes earlier. It had been a hellish day. All she needed now was for Jeff, of all people, to turn macho on her. Though she’d talked to him several times on the telephone, this was the first time she’d seen him since their Valentine’s Day date, a night that had been pure magic from dinner to the hours of lovemaking that had followed. Usually he called before coming over. Wouldn’t you know he’d drop by unexpectedly on this of all evenings? she thought ruefully.
“Why don’t we save it for another time?” Webb said smoothly, his tone acknowledging the challenge in the other man’s voice. “Autumn’s been hurt, and I—”
“What?” Jeff pushed abruptly past Webb to swiftly cross the room and drop to his knees beside the couch. “Autumn, are you all right? What happened?”
“Jeff, it’s nothing. Really. Just a stupid little accident.” She stopped with a sigh as she realized that she was wasting her breath. Jeff had gone into doctor mode, already examining the ugly bruise on her forehead and the ragged, three-inch-long cut on her left forearm that had been neatly closed by a half-dozen or so stitches. “Jeff, I’ve seen a doctor,” she protested when he automatically checked her pupils. “Webb took me to the emergency room at Tampa General. I don’t have a concussion.”
“What happened?” he repeated, and she was amazed to realize that he’d gone pale beneath his tan.
She attempted a light, soothing tone. “I bumped my head and cut my arm at work this afternoon. It wasn’t serious, so don’t—”
“She almost killed herself,” Webb broke in curtly, dropping into a chair and watching the couple in front of him with interest. “If her reflexes weren’t so fast, she would have been at least badly injured.”
Thoroughly irritated, particularly when she noted that Jeff’s eyes had widened considerably, Autumn glared at Webb. “Shut up, Webb, and let me tell him.”
Ignoring Autumn, Jeff turned to Webb. “No, you tell me. What happened?” he asked for the third time, growing visibly less patient by the moment.
Paying no attention to Autumn’s attempt to interrupt, Webb explained succinctly. “She was running conduit in the mall we’re working on, standing on scaffolding twenty feet off the floor. She needed to reach out a little farther than her safety belt would allow her to go, so she unsnapped it.” He gave Autumn a stern glance and continued. “She turned too quickly, bumped her head on a metal beam and lost her balance, cutting her arm on an air-conditioning duct when she reached out to grab something to hold on to. She managed to catch herself just as one of the guys got to her to help her down, but she came so damn close to falling that my heart stopped.”
“My God.” Jeff inhaled sharply and rested his forehead against Autumn’s for a moment before raising his head to look at her intently. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
“I’m sure,” she answered steadily, deciding not to mention that she was in a great deal of pain from her arm and her pounding head. The shot she’d been given earlier was wearing off, and her arm felt as if it was on fire.
She should have known she couldn’t fool a doctor—this doctor, in particular. His blue eyes narrowed, and she suspected that he was taking complete inventory of the circles under her eyes, her pallor and the slight sheen of moisture on her forehead. “What did they give you for pain?” he demanded.
Again Webb answered. “The pain medication is on the coffee table. She refused to take it when I tried to give it to her a few minutes ago.”
“Webb, would you go home?” Autumn exploded wrathfully, her small tantrum sending painful fireworks off in her head. “Thank you for everything, but please go away.”