“Don’t try to figure me out,
Autumn,” Campbell said.

“I’m just a man who was lost once. Now I’ve found my way. I only ask that you don’t push me away, because I need to be here, right here, working for your father.”

Autumn sighed. Did he think she was fishing for information just so she could report back to her father and push Campbell out of business? Did he really think she was that ruthless?

“I wasn’t planning on shoving you out the door,” she said, a little spark of anger replacing her need to nurture him. “I just wanted to know more about you.”

“Well, now you do,” he said, gently taking her arm and leading her into the restaurant. He stopped at the door. “Oh, and I promised your father I wouldn’t ever hurt you.”

“I don’t think we need to worry about that.”

“No, but I didn’t exactly promise him I wouldn’t fall for you, either. Because that’s a promise I don’t think I’m going to be able to keep.”

LENORA WORTH

knew she wanted to be a writer after her fourth-grade teacher assigned a creative writing project. While the other children moaned and groaned, Lenora gleefully wrote her first story, then promptly sold it (for a quarter) on the playground. She actually started selling in bookstores in 1993. Before joining Steeple Hill, Lenora wrote for Avalon and Leisure Books.

Married for thirty years, Lenora has two children. Before writing full-time, she worked in marketing and public relations. She has served in her local RWA chapter and as president of Faith, Hope, and Love, the inspirational chapter of RWA. She also wrote a weekly opinion column for the Shreveport Times for five years, and now writes a monthly column for SB magazine.

A Leap of Faith
Lenora Worth

By faith we understand that the worlds

were framed by the word of God, so that the

things which are seen were not made of

things which are visible.

—Hebrews 11:3

To my fellow Love Inspired authors—

friends, sisters and awesome writers all!

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Letter to Reader

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

“Weddings always make me cry.”

Autumn Maxwell turned to the tall, dark-haired man who’d just whispered that slightly sarcastic statement, apparently for her ears only. He wasn’t what she’d call handsome. But he wasn’t hard to look at, either. He had brown, almost black eyes and hair about the same color. He wore an impeccably tailored gray lightweight suit with dark gray suede lace-up shoes that could only be described as sneakers.

Wondering why he’d decided to bother her, Autumn gave him a once-over then said, “I don’t see any tears.”

He slanted his head sideways, causing his thick hair to ruffle across his forehead, then held a hand to his heart. “In here. I’m crying in here.”

“Oh, well, that explains it then.” Autumn tuned out his pleasant drawling accent, then turned to stare out at the crowd of people mingling by the shimmering swimming pool at the Big M Ranch in Paris, Texas.

They were celebrating the wedding of Autumn’s cousin, April Maxwell, to Reed Garrison. Reed had been April’s high school sweetheart and the man she’d fallen in love with all over again when she’d come home earlier this year. Autumn knew this had been an emotional day for April. Her father, Stuart, had passed away back in the spring, and her mother had died years ago in a plane crash. But today, April looked joyful as she mingled with her guests in the soft late-September sunshine. She loved Reed, and they were happy together at last, in spite of how much April missed her parents. April and Reed had a strong faith that would see them through. And they’d have a good marriage. Autumn sent up thanks for that, even while her own heart hurt with loneliness.

“Explains what?” the man beside Autumn asked, leaning toward her, his broad shoulders blocking her view.

Autumn looked up at him, a tired kind of reluctance pulling at her very bones as she refocused on him. Giving him a weak smile, she asked, “Are you still here?”

“Ouch, that hurt.” He grinned then extended a hand. “Campbell Dupree, invited guest.”

Autumn took his hand, shook it, then drew back, the jolt of awareness his touch had brought knocking her off balance for only an instant. “Autumn Maxwell, cousin of the bride.”

He stood straight up, his eyebrows slanting as he grinned. “I know who you are.”

That smug admission caused Autumn to step back. She didn’t like the intimate way he was looking at her. “And how do you know who I am?”

He drew his head back, his eyes locked on her face. “I saw you in the wedding party, but I had no idea—”

“Second bridesmaid to the left,” Autumn retorted, a wry smile on her face.

His gaze moved over her face. “As I was trying to explain, I was told before the wedding that you and your cousin Summer would be attendants, but I had no idea how pretty you’d both be. Especially you.”

Autumn let out a laugh. “Okay, you should just can the sweet talk. We all know Summer is the pretty one. April is the stylish one, and me, well, I’m the plain one.”

He shook his head. “Depends on your definition of plain. Right now, you don’t look plain at all. You look radiant.”

She hid her unladylike snort behind her hand. “Are you for real?”

He looked down at himself, patted his chest and shoulders. “I feel real.”

Autumn could attest to that. He looked solid, as if he worked out on a regular basis. Nice biceps aside, she really wished he’d just go away. She wanted to stand here and enjoy watching April and Reed laughing with their guests. This was their day, so Autumn refused to think any negative thoughts. Except this annoying man with the strange shoes and the dark, mysterious eyes was making that difficult.

“Is there something else you’d like to say?” she asked the man, since he was still watching, make that ogling her.

“So you’re Richard Maxwell’s daughter?”

She mimicked his earlier moves, slapping her hands against her bare arms. “Yes, last time I checked.” Then she made a face to discourage any more questions. “And it was really nice to meet you, but I’m going to walk away now, okay?”

“Why?” He followed her back toward the punch table on the long patio of the Big M’s ranch house. “Why are you walking away?”

Autumn fingered the delicate strand of pearls April had given her for being a bridesmaid, then pushed at the smooth chignon she’d been forced to endure in order to please the bride’s sense of style. “Because I’m not a very social person, and because you’re beginning to get on my last nerve.”

He stepped in front of the punch bowl, a beseeching grin splitting his face. “But you hardly know me.”

“My point exactly,” Autumn said, trying to scoot around him. Suddenly, she was very thirsty and that almond tea punch was looking better and better.

Campbell Dupree headed her off by coming around to the back of the table. He stood staring over the crystal bowl at her while he ladled her some punch. Handing her the cup, he asked, “So you attend weddings, even participate in them, but you don’t enjoy being around other people at the receptions?”

“Something like that,” Autumn replied, her smile practiced and efficient. She downed the whole cup of punch, hoping he’d be gone by the time she got to the bottom.

He wasn’t.

“And just why aren’t you a social person?”

Giving him a shrug of impatience that caused her blush-colored sleeveless bridesmaid dress to shimmer, she replied, “I deal in numbers. I’m an accountant. Or at least I was.”

“In New York,” he said, admiration flickering in his eyes. “I’ve heard all about that.”

“You have?” Curious now, Autumn stopped thinking about how to get away. “How do you know all about me? Are you one of my father’s clients or business buddies, or are you a friend of Reed’s?”

Before he could answer, her father came barreling up to them. “There you are,” he said to Autumn. “I’ve been looking for you. I see you’ve met Campbell.”

“Yes,” Autumn said, wondering with renewed interest how her father knew Campbell Dupree, and wondering why her father seemed so nervous and flushed. “He was just about to tell me—”

“I was just about to tell her yet again how very lovely she looks,” Campbell said, his smoky gaze moving from her father to Autumn. “As I said earlier, you and your cousin make a lovely pair of bridesmaids.”

“Thanks,” Autumn said, thinking the man was surely repetitive and just a bit too charming. Glancing back at her perspiring father she asked, “Daddy, are you okay?”

Richard Maxwell looked as handsome as ever in his dark suit and shiny cowboy boots, but a fine sheen of moisture glowed across his forehead. “I’m fine, honey. But we need to talk. In private.”

“Is something wrong?” Autumn said, glancing around. “Is April okay?”

“April is one happy bride,” Richard replied. “And Summer is inside with little Michael. Poor little fellow—tough about him losing his mother last month. But Summer and Mack are doing a fine job of surrounding him with love. I reckon they’ll be having their own wedding soon.”

Autumn nodded. Her father was sandbagging for some reason. Apparently, he had something he really wanted to say, but he was talking about everything but that, whatever it was.

She watched as his glance bounced back and forth between Campbell Dupree and her. “What’s the matter, Daddy?”

“Let’s go inside,” Richard said, giving Campbell a warning look. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Not at all, sir,” Campbell said, backing away. “It was nice to meet you, Autumn.”

“You, too,” Autumn said, not exactly sure if the word nice would describe this particular meeting.

She did need to talk to her father, however. Wondering how she was going to break the news that her company in New York had downsized and she’d been laid off, Autumn followed Richard into the cool interior of the house. She’d arrived home for the wedding three days ago, but she hadn’t been able to find the right time to tell her father that she might have to move back to Atlanta, Texas, and work at his financial firm for a while. Just until she could figure out what to do with the rest of her life.

Maybe this layoff had been a blessing in disguise. April was now married and back at the Big M. Summer had moved back to Athens, Texas, to work as a counselor at the Golden Vista Retirement Village, and to be with her new love, Mack Riley. That had left Autumn all alone in New York. All alone and now without a job. Maybe God was testing her.

Autumn had been forced to try and find new roommates for their loft apartment, feeling lonely and more than a tad bitter. But the more she thought about two strangers moving into the place where she and her cousins had shared so much, the more she dreaded that happening. She didn’t want new roommates.

Maybe coming home was the best option, even though she’d planned on working a few more years in New York before she wanted to consider moving back to Texas. But the city was big and gloomy without her cousins. And her father had always told her she had a place at Maxwell Financial Group any time she wanted to come home. He might even offer her a job here on the spot.

Richard marched her to the big den toward the front of the Spanish-style house. “We can talk in private in here.”

“Daddy, you’re scaring me. Why all the secrecy?”

“Nothing secret, darlin’. Just wanted some quiet time with my little girl. I haven’t had a minute with you over the last few days, and we’ve got a lot to talk about.”

Autumn sank down on a chair, watching her father pace in front of the fireplace. “And I have a lot to tell you. Daddy, I—”

Richard held up a hand. “I’m just gonna come out and tell you, honey. I’m retiring from the firm.”

“You are?” Surprised, Autumn held on to the arm of her chair. “When did you decide this?”

“Oh, right after your uncle Stuart died. I had been toying with the idea even before then, but his illness made me think. Our time here on earth is precious. And I want to spend more time with your mama and with the rest of my family, before it’s too late.”

“You’re not sick?”

“No, no. I had me a little scare a while back, but the doctors tell me I’m as healthy as a horse these days. It’s just that, well, it was time. The firm is in good shape. Very good shape.”

Autumn let that information soak in, wondering what kind of scare her daddy had experienced. Surely her mother would have told her if anything bad had happened. “I’m glad to hear that you’re okay, Daddy. And that the firm is solid. I’d love to—”

“Honey, I’d love to have you come back and work at the firm,” Richard said, interrupting her yet again, as was his lovable way.

“Oh, Daddy.” Autumn jumped up to hug him. “I was so worried. I didn’t know how I was going to tell you—”

“Tell me what?”

“That I lost my job in New York. Downsizing.” Seeing the shock on his face, she hurried to reassure him. “But I got a nice severance package and of course, I still have my stock, even though it’s down because of this layoff. Anyway, I’m fine. But I don’t want to stay in New York by myself.”

Richard stood back, a grin splitting his face. “Well, San Antonio and El Paso, too. If that don’t beat all. Good timing, huh? I’m sorry about your job, but I could sure use you at Maxwell. How ’bout you come to work for your ol’ daddy again, honey?”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Autumn admitted, relief coursing through her. “I could find work in New York, but with everyone being back here—”

“You need to be back here, too,” Richard finished, a soft smile on his face. “You know you always have a place here, Autumn.”

“Yes, but I was just so afraid—”

Richard cleared his throat. “Listen, honey. When I decided back in the spring about retiring, well, I made some decisions I need to tell you about. There’s just one little hitch to all of this—”

There he went, looking nervous again. He wasn’t telling her the whole story, Autumn decided. The Maxwell men had a huge problem with communicating. She’d have to pry it out of him.

“Oh, and what would that be?” she asked, confused at his sheepish expression. Richard Maxwell never looked sheepish. And he never got nervous. Maybe he really was sick, and he was just afraid to tell her. “What’s the hitch, Daddy?” she asked, repeating his words to her, her heart hoping he wouldn’t give her bad news.

Then a tall figure cut through the sun rays streaming across the wide hallway.

“That would be me,” Campbell said, his smile one-sided. “I’m the little hitch in this plan.”

“What does he—”

Richard held Autumn by the arm, as if he expected her to bolt. “Uh, honey, that’s what I needed to talk to you about. Campbell works for me. He took over the firm a few months ago, and just in time, too, I might add. And if you come back, well, you’d be working for—with—him now.”

Autumn looked from her father to the tall man standing with his hands in the pockets of his trousers, rocking back and forth on those ridiculous shoes. She turned back to Richard. “You mean, I won’t be in charge of things?”

“Not just yet,” Richard said, dread clear in his eyes. “It wouldn’t be fair to Campbell. I’ve already given him the job.”

Autumn waited while a sense of defeat settled over her system. “You hired a complete stranger to take over our family business, without even asking me how I’d feel about that?”

Richard nodded, then looked down at the woven rug. “Yep.”

Autumn took in that one word, then nodded, trying to hide her disappointment. “Well, I guess that makes sense. I mean, I did say all along I wanted to keep working in New York.”

“That’s the impression I had, honey,” Richard replied, clearly worried about her reaction. “I didn’t want you to feel obligated to come back if you weren’t ready.”

Suddenly, all the signs were there. Her father had been acting strangely over the last few months. Cryptic and tight-lipped. April had urged Autumn to talk to him, but Autumn had been too busy at work to worry overmuch about her father back in Texas. She’d just chalked it up to grief over losing his older brother. Now, Autumn had to wonder if April had known about this and was afraid to tell her. April had probably insisted to Richard he be the one to break the news. And he should have been the one.

“Why didn’t you at least mention this, Daddy?”

Richard shuffled and shrugged. “You just seemed so happy in New York, and you were making buckets of money. I didn’t want you to feel pressured. I knew you had that infernal ten-year plan you’ve always talked about. I didn’t want to mess with that, honey. I didn’t want you back here out of some sense of misguided duty.”

Autumn saw the sincerity in her father’s eyes. “Well, that’s awfully sweet of you, Daddy. But I’m afraid my ten-year plan has gone down the drain about halfway through.”

“I hate to hear that,” Richard said, “but hey, it all worked out for the best. You’re here now, and you can work at Maxwell Financial Group, just like I’ve always wanted.”

“You could have asked me about this sooner,” Autumn said, seeing the doubt and concern in Campbell’s eyes. “Whether I came back or not, I’m your daughter. I had a right to know. You didn’t even ask me how I’d feel about this. You didn’t even give me a chance to decide, either way.”

“I’m asking now,” Richard said. “Honey, I want you to be a part of the family business. I’ve always wanted that. You know that. And I have a plan myself—”

“Yeah, right,” Autumn said, using her father’s interrupting tactics to halt his next words. “Me working for him. That’s your plan. I don’t think that’s going to work.”

“Working with him,” Richard corrected. “I’ve got it all worked out. I can set things up so you’ll be an equal partner.”

“Equal partner?” Autumn pointed a finger at Campbell. “I’m your flesh and blood, Daddy. I’d say that gives me a little more than equal benefits over some interloper. I won’t have him bossing me around.”

Campbell stepped farther into the room. “Hey, I’m a good boss.” At her heated look, he quickly added, “Not that I’d ever boss you around. No, ma’am. I’m fun to work with and I’m fair. We’ll do just fine together.”

“Oh, I just reckon we would, but I’m afraid I’m not ready to have a partner,” Autumn replied. Heading for the door, she said, “Thanks, but no thanks. I’ll just take my chances somewhere else.” She turned to leave the room, her eyes locking with Campbell’s. “I can’t take the job after all, Daddy. It would be rather awkward, coming back and having to deal with someone besides you at Maxwell Financial Group. I’m sorry we couldn’t work this out, but…I’ll find something else soon. I have lots of contacts all over the place. No need to worry about me.”

She gave Campbell Dupree one last look, then she shot out the door and down the hall before she could do something really embarrassing, like bursting into frustrated tears.

Chapter Two

That had not gone very well.

Campbell pulled his sweet red classic ’57 Corvette into the attached open garage of the cottage-style house he’d rented when he’d first arrived in Atlanta, Texas, his mind still reeling from the open hostility and hurt Autumn Maxwell had shown him at her cousin’s wedding earlier today.

She didn’t want to work with him. How was he going to put a spin on that with her father? Richard had gone on and on all summer about the possibility of Autumn one day coming back to the family business. He’d even put that stipulation in Campbell’s contract. And Campbell had agreed, thinking it would probably come a foot of snow in August before he’d ever have to worry about that happening.

He glanced around. “It’s September,” he reminded himself. “And the temperature is in the seventies.”

Not a hint of snow among the tall pines, mushrooming oaks or aged hickory trees. The leaves on some of the trees were beginning to turn, but other than that, things looked perfectly clear.

Except the outlook on his future.

So what had happened today?

How had his life, the life he’d planned and mapped out the day he’d arrived here in this small town, suddenly become a confusing muddle?

Because of that lady with the pretty golden-brown eyes and beautiful auburn-streaked hair.

Autumn Maxwell. The boss’s daughter.

How could such a pretty but aloof woman get to him in such a short time? Campbell prided himself on being able to read women. And on being able to charm them. His Cajun roots didn’t allow for anything less.

Neither ability had worked on Autumn Maxwell. Now the burning question was, why? Or maybe, why not?

He’d thought about nothing else on the long ride back to Atlanta. The woman sure didn’t want to be anywhere near the likes of him. Or maybe, she just didn’t trust men, period. After all, she was a stuffy accountant type. Supposedly.

So are you, supposedly, he reminded himself. And maybe the woman was hostile because he’d taken over the company that would one day belong to her. Well, not so much taken over. Her father was still in charge. But Campbell was the wingman. So to speak.

He couldn’t blame her. If someone else had swooped in and started running a company his family had owned forever, he’d probably be mad as a hornet, too. But then, Campbell thought with a twist of bitterness, his father had lost their family business long before Campbell had been old enough even to work there. That still didn’t set well with Campbell, which was probably the reason he was now classified as a type A personality. A born workaholic, ruthless and too smart for his own good. That’s how some described him.

But those same people sure didn’t mind him investing their money and making them a killing in the stock market. Those people had probably never gone barefooted in the middle of winter or had to wear ratty, hand-me-down clothes from the secondhand store. They’d probably never had to beg for after-school jobs or work twelve-hour days in the soybean and sugarcane fields just to make ends meet.

Parking the car, Campbell turned off the engine and leaned back on the white leather headrest, closing his eyes to the fatigue that seemed to be pushing him down. The old days of stepping out of poverty, only to step on everyone else to get ahead, were long gone. He’d had to take a step back, reevaluate his tactics. He’d been fast approaching burnout down in New Orleans. It had only taken a couple of panic attacks to show Campbell that he needed to slow down, take things easy. And it had only taken one quiet, rainy evening sitting in an empty church somewhere in the Garden District to understand that God, not Campbell Dupree, was the one in charge.

“So that’s how you wound up here,” he reminded himself, his voice echoing through the tiny garage. Campbell had found God, and God had found Campbell a place to hide out and find the rest he needed so much.

But tonight, Campbell felt that old restless energy swirling around him like heat lightning. He couldn’t wait to move out to the beautiful cabin he’d found on Caddo Lake. The cabin was being renovated now, but soon Campbell would be lost out there amid the moss-covered cypress trees and the dark, blue-black waters. The place reminded him of home, of his grandfather’s tiny cabin down near Bayou Lafourche in southwest Louisiana. Once his own more modern version of that cabin was finished, he could fish all day in his pirogue, or just float along with the current. Right now, he had to settle for weekend stays at the cabin.

Campbell Dupree, the risk taker, the adventurer, had a new set of rules: Work hard, but rest easy. Don’t overdo working or playing. Stop. Look. Listen. Appreciate. Have faith.

At least these days, he had more time to devote to the simple life his long-dead grandfather had taught him to appreciate. No more burning the candle at both ends for the new and improved Campbell. No, sir. He might have given up all things Cajun and learned how to blend in with the mainstream world of business, but he could never turn his back on the values his grand-père Marlin Dupree had taught him.

“Stand still and consider the wondrous works of God.”

That verse from Job came to Campbell now. His grandfather had always told Campbell that God was in charge, and that Campbell needed to relax and let God do his work.

But Campbell felt some of that old burning tension inside his gut, white-hot and fiery. Maybe his ulcer was coming back. Or maybe he was just worried about the pretty woman with the chestnut hair and amber eyes he’d left back in Paris. Autumn Maxwell.

He knew all about Autumn Maxwell. Her father doted on his only daughter. Richard had been so concerned about not bothering Autumn, however, he’d neglected to tell her that he’d suffered a light heart attack over a month ago. No one had that information, except Campbell and Autumn’s mother, Gayle. It wouldn’t do for a Maxwell man to look weak.

Especially not to the daughter who was too far away and too caught up in her work to be bothered. Somehow, though, Campbell got the impression that if Autumn had known about her father’s health scare, she would have dropped everything to come back to Texas. She struck him as that kind of person. From everything her parents had told him, at least. And from the shining love he’d seen in her eyes when she laughed and talked with her family.

He envied that.

Campbell had been living underneath Autumn’s soft shadow since the first day he’d set foot inside the plush but comfortable front-street offices of Maxwell Financial Group. Richard had made no bones about how he wished Autumn would come back and work for him. But then he’d explained how Autumn lived in New York and worked for some fancy global accounting and finance firm. Richard had hinted that he probably couldn’t begin to match her salary. Campbell knew the particular firm mentioned and had to agree. Not too shabby. Then Richard had shown Campbell a picture of Autumn when she was younger. Again, not too shabby.

“Why didn’t I recognize her at first today?” Campbell said as he shut the door of the ’Vette and headed into the house. He’d noticed her and realized who she was only when she’d come walking up the aisle of the chapel, her pretty dress shimmering around her slender figure, her amber eyes bright with happy tears.

Well, she’d looked different today, stylish and all dolled up. The woman in the picture at the office had been younger, more fresh-faced and carefree in her jeans and flannel shirt, sitting on a horse. She’d been smiling.

The woman he’d offended today at the wedding had been sophisticated and polished, confident, but she hadn’t smiled a whole lot.

“Okay, maybe she smiled a little bit,” he said.

But not at him, Campbell reminded himself. She obviously was not impressed with the completely impressive Campbell Dupree.

If he really wanted to, Campbell thought as he poured himself a glass of milk, he could at least match her pedigree. He’d come from an old New Orleans family. Old money and a lineage that dated back to some broke but noble aristocrat in France—on his mother’s side, at least. He knew his lineage was part English, part French and sprinkled with Cajun from his father’s side.

But he, just like his long-gone father, had disgraced his mother’s family one time too many to use their geneology for leverage. No, Campbell Dupree did things his way. Always had and always would. And that included running Maxwell Financial Group. Only this time around, he’d have the guidance of God on his side, he prayed. This time around, Campbell would do things his way, but only after he’d prayed to God for help and understanding.

“Whether the heiress-apparent likes it or not.”

Campbell downed his milk, clutched his aching stomach and wondered why it was so important that Autumn Maxwell did approve of him.

“So you don’t approve of your father’s choice to run the firm?”

Autumn turned to her mother, shaking her head. “I didn’t say that. I just said he seems a bit too self-assured and arrogant for my taste.”

Gayle Maxwell settled back in the overstuffed chair in one of the many bedrooms of the Big M ranch house, one hand moving through her clipped auburn hair. “Funny, he reminds me so much of your father.”

“Daddy?” Autumn’s shocked expression reflected in the mirror of the antique vanity. Rubbing lotion over her freshly washed face, she laughed. “Mother, that man is nothing like my father.”

“Not in looks,” Gayle agreed, a hand touching the crocheted pillow she held in her lap. “But…the way he acts. Honestly, I think your daddy handpicked him because they are so much alike.”

Autumn whirled to stare over at her mother, glad the family was staying here at the ranch for the weekend. She wasn’t ready to go home to Atlanta and face Campbell Dupree just yet. “Why did Daddy pick him? I mean, why didn’t he talk to me about all of this? I am his only child, after all.”

Gayle shrugged, then carefully placed the lace pillow back behind her in the chair. “We all urged him to do just that. But you know how stubborn your father can be. He refused to pull you away from your career in New York. He thought you were happy there.”

“I was,” Autumn admitted. “Then everything changed.”

“Well, that’s exactly what happened here, too,” her mother said. “Your uncle Stuart passed on, then James decided to retire from gallivanting around and settle down in Athens. And—” She stopped, taking a breath.

“What?” Autumn asked, getting up to sit on the stool at her mother’s feet. “What is it that y’all aren’t telling me?”

“Your father had a light heart attack a few weeks back,” Gayle said.

Autumn gasped. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“He wouldn’t let me,” Gayle said. “He wouldn’t even let me call James and Elsie. He didn’t want to worry anyone. He said it was too soon after Stu’s death.” She took Autumn’s hand. “He’s fine now, honey, honestly. I watch him like a hawk and he’s got a whole team of doctors lined up to help him. We are blessed that it was very mild.” She shrugged. “You know how he is—he doesn’t like to make a big deal out of things. I had to honor his wishes and keep this to myself.” Then she looked down at the floor. “Of course, we had to tell Campbell—”

Autumn threw down her plastic lotion bottle. “Of course! Let’s tell a perfect stranger, but not our own daughter. I don’t get—” Then she stopped, her hand flying to her mouth at the distress on her mother’s face. “I’m sorry, Mother. This isn’t about Campbell and me. I know Daddy had his reasons, but it still doesn’t sit very well. I’m just glad he’s okay now.”

Gayle nodded. “He is, honey. And he would have told you sooner, but, well, everything is changing so fast with our families these days. Death, weddings, retirements.”

Autumn pulled a brush through her hair. “I guess so. I mean, Summer’s grandparents moved into a retirement home without even letting her know a thing about it.”

“Exactly,” Gayle said, shaking her head. “It’s almost too much to keep up with.”

“And we were all three so caught up in our lives in New York. We should have communicated better.”

“Not that it would have mattered,” her mother replied. “Stubbornness and pride seem to be the dominating traits in our family tree.”

Autumn got up to pace around the carpeted bedroom. “I don’t understand the Maxwell men. Uncle Stuart kept his illness from April until it was almost too late for her to make it home in time to see him before he died. Uncle James had some sort of late-life crisis that had everyone thinking he was going to run off with some rodeo queen, until he broke down and told Summer and Aunt Elsie the truth—that he’s just afraid of getting old. And now this with Daddy. Why can’t they just open up to the people who love them?”

Gayle laughed again. “Because they are Maxwell men, honey. You know the stories and the legends. Rough and tumble, tough and ornery. Their ancestors helped win Texas from Mexico, helped build empires and conquer worlds, including everything from oil to railroads to the Alamo. They can’t show any signs of failure or weakness. And they can’t communicate for anything, I’m afraid.”

Autumn had to agree there. “So he decided to retire after Uncle Stuart died?”

“No, actually just before he died. He hired Campbell back in the spring, but your father officially retired a few weeks ago.”

“Right after the heart attack?”

“That pretty much sealed it, yes.”

“But he decided way back?”

“Yes,” Gayle said, puzzled.

“I knew it,” Autumn said, bobbing her head. “I think April knew about this. I wonder why she didn’t tell me?”

Gayle looked up at her. “Well, she’s had a lot to deal with—her father’s death, moving back to Texas from New York, starting a new job and planning a wedding. Don’t blame her if she didn’t put this at the top of her priority list.”

“Oh, I’m not blaming April. She kept urging me to call Daddy and talk to him. I blame myself—and him, of course.”

“Like father, like daughter,” her mother said, getting up to smooth the wrinkles out of her pink satin robe.

“I’m not quite as stubborn as Daddy,” Autumn retorted.

“Oh, really? So you don’t call it stubborn, turning your father down flat today?”

“That was before I knew about his heart attack. He just told me he’d had a little scare.”

“More like a big scare for me,” Gayle said. “I was so worried.”

“But you didn’t call me,” Autumn said, her heart hurting with all the undercurrents running through this day.

“No, and I’m sorry for that,” Gayle said. “But I promised your father I wouldn’t tell anyone. And I’m sure he won’t like it that I told you today. He’ll think you feel sorry for him, and we wouldn’t want that, now, would we?” She walked slowly to the door. “You know, honey, with you girls up there in New York, we just kind of let things slip by. No need to bother them—that’s what we’d always say. I’m beginning to see that was wrong. We need our children around us, no matter good times or bad.”

Autumn followed her mother to the door. “He needs me now, right?”

“Yes, he does. But he’d never admit that.”

“You know I won’t let him down, don’t you, Mother?”

Gayle touched a hand to Autumn’s face. “I know you will do the right thing, darling. You’ve always been a strong girl. And I know you love your daddy.”

Autumn kissed her mother good-night, then turned to stare at herself in the mirror, the silence of the room echoing with a soft rhythm inside her brain. She could do this. She didn’t have any other choice. She was out of work and at the end of the road. And her father needed her.

Autumn looked out the window at the starry night. “I hear You, Lord. I know when You close a window, You always open a door. Or is it when You close a door, You open a window?”

Either way, Autumn knew an opening when she saw one, and this one was clearly showing her the way home.

“I guess I’m going to work at Maxwell Financial Group,” she told her worried expression as she turned back to the mirror. “And that means, I guess I’m going to work with Campbell Dupree. Whether I want to or not.”

Autumn decided she’d need lots of extra prayers tonight. But then, so would Campbell Dupree.

Chapter Three

A motorcycle.

Autumn stared out the double windows of her father’s office, watching as Campbell lifted his long legs off a big black-and-chrome motorcycle. He wore a business suit and a red helmet. And those irritating suede sneakers.

“Does he always arrive in such a showy manner?” April asked her father’s secretary, Janice Duncan.

No one knew how old Janice was, and no one ever dared ask. She’d been a fixture at Maxwell Financial Group since Autumn was a baby. She’d had the same sensible short-clipped platinum hairstyle for as long as Autumn could remember. She never aged and she never, ever spoke about work or her personal life outside the office. Inside the office was another matter, however. She knew how to settle office squabbles and she knew how to peg new hires, and she didn’t mind telling the Maxwell clan when she thought someone wouldn’t make the cut. Autumn ranked Janice right up there with her own mother, trust-wise. So she knew she could depend on Janice to give her the goods, straight up, on Campbell Dupree.

“What’s he driving today?” Janice asked, her green eyes never leaving the computer screen in front of her.

“Something Harley-Davidson, I think,” Autumn said, careful to stand back so Campbell wouldn’t look up and find her spying. “It’s huge and shiny.”

“Oh, that’s nothing,” Janice said, eyes smiling through her black-framed glasses. “He also owns a vintage Corvette and an overhauled Chevy pickup that he says used to belong to his grandfather back in Louisiana.” Then Janice grinned. “He’s part Cajun, you know.”

“No, I didn’t know.”

Autumn watched as Campbell greeted the president of the Chamber of Commerce as both men arrived for work, his whole body stance animated and sincere. Since the chamber was right across the street, it figured that Campbell would get to know the staff there. Friendly fellow, she thought. Waving to everyone in town, laughing and chatting it up on Main Street. Probably mostly for show.

“Is he from Louisiana?” she asked Janice, following the other woman into the next room so Janice could grab papers from the buzzing printer.

“That’s what he told us. Grew up dirt-poor in some backwater bayou near the Gulf of Mexico.”

“Hmm.” Autumn gained a new respect for Campbell. He sure didn’t look dirt-poor now. His suit was well-made and fitted him perfectly. The fancy monster bike he’d parked out front had to have cost a pretty penny. “I guess he’s done okay for himself then.”

“I’d say,” Janice replied, her mind obviously on all the work she had to get done today. “He went to Tulane and Harvard, something about two different degrees. He’s worked for some of the top firms in the South—one in that other Atlanta—you know, the one in Georgia that our town is named after.”

“I’ve heard of the place, yes,” Autumn said, grinning. “Where else?”

“Houston, Baton Rouge and New Orleans.”

“Why does he move around so much?”

“Can’t say,” Janice said, stopping to stare at Autumn. “Why are you so curious?”

Autumn shrugged, then poured herself a cup of water from a nearby cooler. Her throat was dry this morning. “Well, I’d hate for him to run out on Daddy. What if he doesn’t last? I mean, we’re different here. Things move at a slow pace. I’m sure he’s not used to that.”

Janice gave her a wry smile. “Well, neither are you, city girl.”

“Okay, I get it,” Autumn said, smiling. “Enough questions, right? You have work to do and I’m hindering you.”

“You used to do that on a regular basis, remember?” Janice said, her smile good-natured.

“I guess I did. After school, on Saturdays, during tax season.”

Janice held up a hand. “Don’t mention tax season, please. We don’t have to worry about that until next spring.” Then she gave Autumn a wide smile. “It is good to have you back, though. All grown up, but still Daddy’s little girl.”

Autumn heard the double doors of the reception area opening. “Well, Daddy’s little girl is about to throw her weight around.”

Janice lifted her eyebrows. “What? All one hundred pounds or so?”

“I weigh more than that,” Autumn retorted, tossing her shoulder-length hair back off her neck. “But I hope I carry more weight around here than Campbell Dupree.”

Janice grinned. “I do believe things are about to change. Glad I didn’t retire along with your daddy.”

“I’ll make it worth your time, I promise,” Autumn told her as she pulled at her navy blazer. “Just watch.”

“Oh, I intend to,” Janice said to her departing back.

Campbell tossed his briefcase on one chair and his bag with two piping hot Danishes on the other, then stared at the woman standing by his desk. “Autumn? What a nice surprise. I think.” He arched his neck, looking around toward the other office.

“My father’s not here, if that’s who you’re looking for,” Autumn said, her arms crossed, her eyes full of fire and dare.

Campbell braced himself, taking his own defensive stance while he took in her crisp tailored suit and even crisper white cotton blouse. Her shoes were a matching navy leather. Pumps. He’d always admired women who wore pumps.

Except this one had obviously come dressed to kill. And he had the distinct feeling he was the one she was gunning for.

“So what can I do for you on this lovely fall day?” he asked, quickly moving his battered brown briefcase so she could sit down. If she wanted to.

She didn’t. “Can the charm, Dupree. You and I have a few things to settle between us.”

He watched the way her soft dark curls fell against the white collar of her prim blouse, giving her a look of pristine disarray. “Can I have my Danish and coffee first?”

Right on cue, Janice entered with a steaming mug, grinned at them, then left the room with raised eyebrows.

Autumn watched Janice beat a hasty exit. “Suit yourself.” She didn’t move a muscle, and her eyes never left his face.

“Look,” he said, holding his hands out, palms up, “I know we didn’t get off to a very good start the other day, but…you’re here now. Let’s start over.”

She stood there like a pretty doll, looking as if she might break if he touched her. So Campbell went about the business of lacing the coffee Janice had placed on his desk with two heavy creams. Then he set his strawberry cream cheese Danish out on a napkin, cut it down the middle, then sat down to stare up at her. “Want half?”

He breathed a sigh of relief when she sank down in one of the black-leather high-backed chairs across from his desk. She eyed the messy Danish with disdain. “No, thanks, I’m not hungry. And why didn’t you take my father’s office?”

That question threw him. “Because it’s still your father’s office. That won’t change.”

She pushed at the sensible silver clip holding her hair back off her face. “I can’t believe he retired.”

Campbell felt something deep in his heart turning as mushy as the inside of his Danish. “More like, you can’t believe he retired and didn’t tell you.”

“That, too.”

“That must have made you angry.”

“More like, hurt.”

“Well, don’t be.”

“Actually, I’m more hurt and concerned that he had a heart attack and told you instead of me.”

“Only because I work for him.”

“Right. But that’s not the issue. The issue is his health and well-being.”

“Yes, of course. And just to set your mind at ease, he’s taking care of himself. Your mother is making sure of that.”

“So she tells me.”

“You don’t look convinced.”

“I’m kind of that way—I have to see something with my own eyes to believe it.”

“I’ll make a note of that.”

She settled back against the chair, then crossed her long legs. Campbell caught a brief glimpse of her feet, and admired her shoes again. He almost missed the days of working with heavy-bellied, gray-haired, golf-playing executives back in New Orleans. Almost.

“I’m not going back to New York,” she told him in an I-dare-you voice. “I’m going to stay right here and work. With you.”

That sounded like a challenge, and he could never turn down a good challenge. So he stated the obvious. “With me.”

“That’s what I said.”

“But you really don’t want to do that, do you? I mean, work with me.”

“No, not really. But then, we don’t always get what we want, do we?”

“Amen to that.”

They sat there staring across the mahogany desk at each other until Campbell once again offered her half of the Danish. He held it out, hoping she’d see it as a truce. Besides, he had another whole one for later in his bag.

Autumn took the flaky concoction, grabbing it and the napkin before the strawberry filling could fall out on her skirt. Then she eyed his coffee.

“Want some?”

“I could use a good strong cup. But I like mine black.”

He got up. “I’ll file that away for future reference.”

“Where are you going?”

“To make you a pot of strong black coffee.”

He thought he saw admiration flickering in her eyes. And he couldn’t help the smile that split his face as he headed down the hall to the break room.

Two hours later, they had talked about everything from 401(k) accounts, penny stocks and mutual funds to overhauling Social Security. They’d covered real estate investments, capital gains, market losses, asset management and property and estate taxes.

They’d just polished off the second Danish—this one apple—and a whole pot of coffee.

Campbell sat back in his chair, his hands clasped at the back of his neck. “Okay, you win. I haven’t been able to trip you up on anything financial.”

“Were you trying to trip me up?” Autumn asked, comfortable with him for the moment. She’d sure had fun discussing work with him. Too much fun.

“Weren’t you trying to trip me up?” he retorted, his winning smile almost winning her over.

Almost. But not quite yet.

“I just wanted to make sure you—”

“You wanted to make sure I wouldn’t run your father’s company into the ground,” Campbell finished for her, his eyes glistening like diamond chips. “I can appreciate that.”

“Wouldn’t want it any other way, right?” Autumn countered, enjoying the back and forth of their conversations. That should irritate her, but it didn’t. Not a good sign. That and the fact that Campbell Dupree was right on target with his financial savvy and his math skills. She couldn’t find anything else to nitpick about.

“That’s right.” He leaned forward in his chair, his hands dropping over the stacks of clutter on his desk. The man obviously didn’t believe in organization. “I wouldn’t have taken this job if my only purpose was to do in Maxwell Financial Group, Autumn. That wouldn’t do me any good, now, would it?”

She caught the hint of Cajun in his words. It was in the inflection, in the way his eyes gleamed, in the way he tilted his head to one side. Lethal. If this man really wanted to turn on the charm, she knew it would be killer.

Why was he showing so much restraint around her? Well, she was the boss’s daughter. And he was minding his p’s and q’s, no doubt.

“No, I guess you want to make money right along with the rest of us,” she said in answer to his question. “And you seem to be very good at your job.”

“I try.”

“Will my being here bother you?”

He gave her a look that made her think he was already bothered with her being here. And then he confirmed that notion. “Most definitely.”

“But you will behave and help me adjust, right?”

“For sure.”

“And we both agree that my father is still in charge, even if he spends more time on the golf course now than in the office?”

“He’s the boss.”

“And we both agree that we only want the best for our clients and their investments, right?”

His eyes flirted while she spoke. “Absolutely.”

“And we can be equal partners. No special privileges just because Richard Maxwell is my father. We’re a team.”

“We are most definitely a team. I’m here to work for your father and our clients. I expect you to do the same.”

“Good, then. I think I can work with you.” She prayed. She hoped. She’d have to be careful with that throwing-her-weight-around stuff.

“I know I can work with you.”

His confidence was inspiring.

He stood up, reached out a hand. She took it and shook hands with him, very much aware of the warmth of his touch, of the firm, confident way he shook her hand. Very much aware of the way his eyes locked with hers in that bold, daring look. Campbell was willing to take her on, but she figured he was also willing to toy with her just a bit. Just to keep things interesting.

“I’m glad we talked this out,” he finally said, letting go of her hand.

Autumn felt warm and cold at the same time. Maybe this was a bad idea, after all. Just thinking about being here, day in and day out, with this man around, caused her to break out in hives.

“Work,” she said, clearing her throat. “We have to focus on the work, Campbell. Not our own agendas.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Are you listening?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Autumn got up, then stood with her hands on the back of her chair. “Okay, you have to stop that.”

He shrugged, shuffled some papers. “Stop what?”

She touched a hand to her collar, moved her head around. “That…that thing you do with your eyes.”

“It’s called looking.”

“Well, you can’t look at me that way.”

“What way is that?”

“You know what way. I’m not one of your conquests, Campbell. I’m… We have to be serious, focused, determined.”

“I am all of those things, I can assure you. And how do you know about my conquests?”

“Just a calculated guess.”

“Hmm.”

She came around the chair and leaned across the desk, her knuckles turning white as she balanced her hands on the cool glass-covered surface. “Okay, here’s the deal. I am going to stay here in Atlanta for a few months and work here at Maxwell. Only because my father needs me to do so, and only because I lost my job in New York and it’s lonely there without April and Summer. And only until I can decide what to do next. You are going to respect me, and confer with me, and treat me as an equal partner in all matters concerning this business. I go by the book and I follow the rules. I hope that’s clear.”

“Crystal.”

“And while we’re discussing this—I don’t bring personal business to work, I work hard and I work late. And if you buy breakfast, you might need to know I like my coffee black and I like half a bagel with a little fruit on the side. I don’t date coworkers and I don’t like flirting in the workplace. Is that clear?”

He got up, leaned his hands on the desk and brought his head down until they were face-to-face, nose to nose and eye to eye. “Very clear. Now let me tell you a few things about me and how I operate. I know how to make money for people. It’s a gift that I will never take for granted. I admire and respect your father, so you can rest easy that I will always put this company’s best interests first. I like to come in early and work late, but I also sometimes like to take long rides on my Harley, just to clear my head.”

“I assume you pay exorbitant insurance rates on that thing?”

“That and my Corvette, but I’ve got the funds to cover it and I enjoy my toys.”

“Suit yourself. What else do you want to tell me?”

He thought about it for a minute, as if there was so much more he had to say. “I like new experiences, and I like getting to know other people. I like my coffee heavy with cream, and I have a sweet tooth the size of this state. I don’t eat liver, but I do like gumbo made with duck or turkey, even though seafood gumbo is my favorite.”

She grinned. “Well, who doesn’t like gumbo? Go on.”

Campbell grinned right back. “So this is Campbell Dupree 101?”

“I’m learning a lot. Keep spilling it, Dupree.”

“You might not like what you hear.”

“I told you, I like to know things. I need proof.”

He gazed over at her, that challenge in his eyes again. “Okay, I have a weakness for King Cake and pralines, but I work off things like that by getting out and living a little, staying active. So don’t panic if I don’t jump when you say jump, or if it seems as if I’m not working when I really am.” He tapped a finger to his forehead. “I don’t always go by the book, but it’s always on, inside my brain.”

“Is that it?”

He nodded, still too close. “Oh, there is one other thing.”

She breathed in the scent of something fresh and clean. His shampoo or soap, and maybe a little strawberry. “What?”

His eyes moved over her face, touching on her lips. “I like to flirt. A lot. But I don’t intend to do that with you, because I am also a professional, and because I respect you way too much to make you feel uncomfortable. However, sometimes, I slip up and break all the rules. I just want to be clear on that, okay? So cut me some slack.”

Autumn stood straight up, casting her eyes down just so she could catch her breath. “I don’t like cutting people any slack,” she said, sending him a confident look in spite of the shaking of her hands. “I’ll just have to ignore that side of you—a lot.”

Then she turned and hurried out of his office, her back straight, her heels clicking a hasty path away from him and his rules he aimed to break.

He was just that kind of man—the kind who could cause a woman to break all the rules right along with him.

She needed another drink of water.

Chapter Four

“So how are things at work, honey?”

Autumn looked up from the papers she’d been going over to find her mother staring down at her. From the look of concern marring her mother’s oval face, Autumn figured Gayle was more worried than curious. Why did everyone around here seem to be walking on eggshells? Did they all think she’d have some sort of breakdown, throw a hissy fit if things didn’t go her way?

Autumn had always prided herself on being the calm one. She had watched on more than one occasion as April told people off in classic, understated tones, and she’d watched, cringing, as Summer went at people with gusto, never holding back. Autumn held back, analyzed the situation, thought things through, then determined how best to handle the situation. She didn’t throw fits.

Or at least she hadn’t until she’d come home to find a squatter taking over the family business. Now it seemed as if everyone in Cass County was giving her a wide berth. Which meant she had to be extremely diligent in her professionalism and her loyalty to her father’s legacy. She couldn’t taint the Maxwell name, after all. Especially over some handsome, irritating, smart-aleck intruder like Campbell Dupree.

An intruder who kept a worn Bible amid the clutter on his desk, she reminded herself. Don’t think about the nice parts, she also reminded herself. Don’t think of him as anything but a coworker. And most of the coworkers she’d known were ruthless and cutthroat, out to get ahead no matter who got in their way. Campbell would probably do the same, regardless of whether that meant stepping all over the boss’s daughter.

She looked at her loving, serene mother, and told herself not to allow any of her own bitterness and misgivings to cloud her mother’s beautiful face.

“We’ve been busy,” Autumn said, careful to choose just the right words. Her mother could always tell whenever Autumn was hedging. “The firm is solid, Mama. Our clients are happy and we’ve reassured most of them to ride out these latest market fluctuations. We’re planning a financial seminar in a couple of weeks, just to acquaint our clients with Campbell and me. That should bring in some new clients, too—”

Gayle held up a hand, her diamond-encrusted bracelet watch slipping down her arm. “I don’t need to know the financial status of the firm, Autumn. Your daddy brags about that with every waking breath. The man lives and breathes IRAs, SEPs and mutual funds. He’s very proud, you know. I was asking more about how things are going between you and Campbell.”

“Oh, that.” Autumn shrugged, then twirled her gold pen between her fingers just long enough to put on a blank face. “Honestly, we stay so busy, I can’t really comment, other than to say he is good at what he does.”

Very good, she wanted to add. Very good at being charming, very good at being up-to-date, no matter how hard she tried to stay ahead of him, very good at making strong coffee and crunching numbers to the point that she wanted to weep from the sheer beauty of the man’s brain, and very good at smiling up at her each time she walked into his office.

In fact, the man smiled at her even when she was frowning at him. Which was just about every time she ran into him. She’d enter frowning, and somehow, he’d have her exiting with a laugh. It just wasn’t fair. Accountants were supposed to be stoic and studious, weren’t they? Accountants weren’t supposed to ride in red shiny things or big loud machines, were they? And surely, accountants weren’t supposed to look as laid-back and unconcerned as a rodeo clown, were they? The man wore sneakers to work. He talked about all these grand, daring adventures he’d been on, around the world and back. Hiking, biking, mountain climbing, fishing, sailing. You name it, Campbell had done it. She hoped the man had a good life insurance policy.

“So you two have hit it off?” Gayle asked, looking over her reading glasses at Autumn.

“We work well together,” Autumn responded.

He was spontaneous and disorganized.

She was anal-retentive and compulsively organized.

Yeah, they worked well together, all right.

“Are you sure?” Gayle asked as she settled across the breakfast table from Autumn, a copy of the Citizens’ Journal rustling in her hands. “I mean, are you two really getting along? Your father is in such a tizzy, worrying about this.”

“Tell Daddy not to worry,” Autumn said, dropping her pen and looking over at her mother. “I don’t want him worried about anything. Campbell and I are working together and we both agree that we won’t bring personal agendas into the workplace.”

Gayle let out a gentle gasp, her eyes going wide. “But you do have…personal agendas?”

Autumn felt the flush of entrapment moving down her face. Beneath that debutante demeanor, her mother was shrewd and all-knowing. She needed to remember that. “No, that’s not what I meant. I’m just saying that we know how to be professional. We’re working toward the common goal, to keep Maxwell running smoothly. And Daddy is welcome to check in on us any time he wants.”

“Oh, I know that,” her mother said, smiling. “In fact, he’s on his way to the office right now, to have a nice long breakfast meeting with Campbell.”

Autumn jumped up, shuffling papers. “He is? Then I’d better get over there. He might have questions for me.”

Gayle’s carefully arched brown brows rose as she stared up at Autumn. “No need to hurry, honey. Your father specifically wanted some private time with Campbell. You know—the old-boy network.”

Autumn could feel her hackles rising. Telling herself to calm down, she stopped stuffing papers in her Burberry briefcase. “Oh, really. And just what does Campbell Dupree have to say that I can’t hear? Is he already undermining me to my own father?”

“I didn’t say that now—”

“But you said this is a private meeting. I thought I was supposed to be an equal partner. And already they’re having closed-door meetings behind my back?”

She was halfway to the back door when she heard her mother’s low chuckle. Turning, Autumn perched a hand on her hip. “And just what is so funny, Mama?”

Gayle held a fist to her mouth. “Oh, my. You, suga’. The way you tossed all those papers in your briefcase, the way you were heading out the door, all bent on doing battle—I’d say there is a whole lot of something personal going on between you and Campbell. A healthy competition, at least.”

“Competition is good,” Autumn said, taking a deep breath and wishing she’d kept her cool about this. Obviously, her mother had been waiting for just such a show of insecurity and pettiness. “And competition is nothing personal. It’s all about business—my father’s business.”

“How could any of us forget that?” Gayle asked, still smiling. “You would walk through fire for your daddy, I do believe.”

“Yes, I would,” Autumn said, thinking that the last couple of weeks working with Campbell had been like walking through fire. At times, she felt hot and clammy, other times cold and alone. She just never knew what to expect with Campbell. And she prided herself on always knowing what to expect, had trained herself to stay ahead of the competition and the circumstances.

Her cousins prayed and planned. Autumn prayed and calculated. That was just how her brain worked. She’d need lots of prayers and lots of calculations to stay one step ahead of Campbell. After all, they had been put in charge of safeguarding the incomes of their clients. It wouldn’t do for them to have infighting, like the money changers of old. Not that she thought Campbell was corrupt. The man seemed as stable and honest as the midsummer days were long. But in spite of her trust and awe of him, Autumn was watching and praying. She hoped her own values and God’s good graces would help her in dealing with her new partner.

I won’t let him wear me down, she told herself as she tried to regain her composure. Then she turned to her overly curious, overly grinning mother. “I think I have time for one more cup of coffee, Mama. Tell me what you have planned for today. Oh, and tell me all about that new perfume you bought the other day. I might have to try some of that. You know I love good-smelling body lotion.”

Gayle smiled, made a big, long-drawn-out deal of pouring more coffee and buttering more raisin toast. “How lovely that we get to spend some time together this morning.”

“Isn’t it, though,” Autumn replied, her foot tapping on the tile floor underneath the long breakfast table. “We should do this more often.”

“Yes, we should,” her mother said, her eyes gleaming. “I have an early meeting at church this morning, but we have a little while before we both head out. Did I tell you I’m working on the stewardship committee? We’re planning a big celebration to show our thanks for having a solid financial plan and wonderful tithing members.”

“This family thrives on working with money,” Autumn said. “Even in church, apparently.”

Gayle grinned. “Money can be the root of all evil, but if used wisely, it can also make a difference in this old world. We’re able to help so many people with our mission work and with our food bank and soup kitchen. But it does take a lot of money to finance those things.”

“I guess it’s in the blood,” Autumn replied. “But I’m thankful that we’re so blessed. Which is why I have to be protective of Maxwell Financial Group.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way,” her mother replied.

“Neither would I.” Autumn tried to chew her toast, all the while wondering what her father and Campbell could possibly be discussing.

They were discussing her.

Campbell sat up straight, feeling as if he’d been called into the principal’s office just as he had many, many times during his school years.

“So, you and my little girl getting along okay?” Richard asked again, his eyes full of enough steel and daring to hold back a gusher.

“Yes, we certainly are,” Campbell repeated, feeling hot under the collar of his starched shirt. “At least, I think we are. Has Autumn said otherwise?”

“No,” Richard replied, tapping his fingers on his desk. “Why would she, if there’s not a problem?”

“No problem,” Campbell said, deciding this was a test of some sort. A test that felt like walking through a minefield. He leaned back in his chair, prepared to defend his honor and his reputation if necessary.

But when he thought back over the last week, he knew both his honor and his reputation had been sorely tested at every turn. Tested by the scent of some sort of floral perfume that reminded him of midnight in a New Orleans courtyard. Tested by the click of high heels against tile floor and the slamming of a door just across the hall. Tested by amber-hued doe eyes and auburn curls that begged to be touched. Tested every which way by a woman who remained very serious and businesslike, no matter how much he tried to charm her. Autumn’s work habits were precise and unencumbered. She arrived at nine o’clock on the dot and stayed well past five. She cloistered herself in her office, buried herself in data and printouts, then called clients, using her Southern manners, to win them over and reassure them. Then she’d triumphantly march over to his office, her expression all business, and announce they’d snagged yet another high-dollar client. All in a day’s work. And all the while, Campbell couldn’t concentrate on his own clients and files.

He was slowly losing his grip.

“The books look good,” Richard said now, rocking back in his leather swivel chair. “Clients are happy. Well, most of them, anyway.”

“You’ve been over the files?” Campbell asked, glad to be on a subject he could handle.

“Of course. I’ve checked all the data and I’ve kept up with the markets. I’ve made sure our clients with conservative long-term investments feel comfortable having a new man on board. I’m here to reassure our clients. You know people get itchy when their money is being bandied about. But we’re fine, just fine. New management does not mean anybody around here is going to lose any money. Things are in order, as is to be expected. But then, I never for one second doubted that.”

Regaining his equilibrium, Campbell sat up. “Okay, then, why don’t you explain what you are doubting? Because it’s obvious you called me in here today for a reason. And I’m beginning to think that reason has nothing to do with our accounts.”

“You are correct,” Richard said, deadpan. “I’m just concerned about my little girl, is all.”

Campbell let out a breath. “Well, in case you haven’t noticed, she’s not a little girl anymore. She’s a woman, a smart, self-assured, calculating, infuriating, completely grown-up woman who’s really quite smart. Remarkable.”

Richard let out a whoop that caused the rafters to shake. “So…she’s getting to you, right?”

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