LITMIR.BIZ

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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

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