Hero by Nature (Reed Sisters: Holding out for a Hero 3)

She smiled at him, amused by his expression. “Yes, sir, I really like it.”

Charles shook his head once. “I never was any good with that kind of thing myself. The boy here’s just like me. Not mechanical. Last time I tried to do anything electrical, I just about electrocuted myself.”

“The boy” grinned and added, “I did the same thing when I was trying to fix a television set once. Forgot to unplug it.” He winced good-naturedly and added, “I haven’t touched anything electrical since, other than to plug it in and turn it on or off.”

Autumn laughed softly. “I’ve been shocked a few times,” she admitted. “And to be honest, I hate to be

shocked. Fortunately, I’ve never been badly hurt.”

“So how long you planning to do this sort of thing?” Charles inquired curiously.

Autumn lifted a questioning eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?”

“The electrical work,” Charles explained. “You planning to stay with it awhile longer, or is there something else you want to do?”

“I like my job,” Autumn told him again. “I have another year before I can test for my master’s license, and then maybe I’ll start my own company someday. That won’t be for several years, though.”

Charles frowned, obviously trying to understand her. “But what if you were to marry, have children?” he asked with a sidelong glance at Jeff.

Jeff interceded quickly. “Dad, lots of wives and mothers work these days. Most of them, in fact. And not all for financial reasons. Many women work because they feel the need to establish their own identities outside the home.”

“I never felt that way myself,” Kathleen commented, entering the room with a full pitcher of fresh-squeezed juice. “I was perfectly content making a nice home for my husband and my son. And I was always busy in community activities,” she continued with a smile at Autumn. “It’s nice to stay involved in the community.”

“Women used to think that was enough,” Charles mused, glancing from Autumn to his wife as if comparing the two very different generations sitting at his breakfast table. “For thirty-five years Kathleen’s been at my side, taking care of our home. She was there for Jeff when he came home from school, room mother for his classes, den mother for his Boy Scout troops. Yet I never doubted that she had her own identity.”

“Now, Charles, this isn’t the time for one of your discussions about the changing times,” Kathleen reproved him indulgently. “You have women on the management staff of your own company, and you’re known as an equal-opportunity employer. What was right for me isn’t necessarily right for everyone, and neither of us is saying it should be.”

“That’s true,” Charles confessed. Still, he couldn’t seem to resist one more question on the subject to Autumn. “Did your mother work while you were growing up?”

“No, she didn’t,” Autumn admitted uncomfortably. “Except to help Daddy out with his store occasionally.”

“Autumn’s father owns a seed and feed store in Rose Bud, Arkansas,” Jeff inserted, smoothly changing the subject. “That’s close to Greer’s Ferry Lake, Dad. Remember the time we went camping there with Uncle Dan and Aunt Josie?”

Charles nodded. “Good fishing lake. Beautiful scenery, too. My brother was career Air Force,” he explained to Autumn. “Retired at the Little Rock Air Force Base in Jacksonville. He and his family liked it so well they stayed. Still live there.”

“Jacksonville’s not far from Rose Bud,” Autumn commented, relieved that the topic had changed so easily and grateful to Jeff for engineering it. “Jeff told me he had family in Arkansas. Quite a few Air Force people end up staying when they’re stationed there.”

And then the conversation carried on for a time along those lines, contrasting the similarities and differences between Arkansas and Florida and the pros and cons of living in either state. But Autumn couldn’t quite forget the earlier discussion, nor could she help but notice how diligently Kathleen Bradford waited on her “menfolk.” Though Jeff seemed indulgently amused by his mother’s attentions, and made no effort to encourage her, Autumn couldn’t help wondering if he really enjoyed all that flattering attention.

After breakfast Kathleen refused to allow either Autumn or Jeff to help with the dishes but insisted that Jeff show Autumn around. Knowing of her fascination with the circus, Jeff took her to the thirty-eight-acre estate of the late John Ringling—of Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey Circus fame—who, in 1927, had made Sarasota the winter headquarters for his circus. There they toured the Ringling Residence, a thirty-room mansion resembling a Venetian palace, completed in 1926 at a cost of one and a half million dollars. Hand in hand, they also toured the John and Mable Ringling Museum of Art, built in Italian Renaissance style and housing an impressive collection of fourteenth-to eighteenth-century art, and then—Autumn’s favorite—the Museum of the Circus.

They had a wonderful time, neither of them referring to the briefly uncomfortable scene at the breakfast table. Autumn didn’t know if Jeff avoided the subject because it bothered her or because he wasn’t aware of how much it had bothered her.

They visited his parents again during the late afternoon, then went to the separate rooms they’d been assigned—without protest from Autumn, who wouldn’t have expected to sleep with Jeff in her parents’ home, either, despite her usual distaste for hypocrisy—to change for the anniversary party.

Autumn had bought a new dress for the occasion on a shopping trip with Emily, who’d also bought a new dress for a special date with her now-steady escort, Webb. Autumn’s dress was a soft green, accenting her auburn hair and emerald eyes. The sleeves were long and the scooped neck quite modest, but still the garment managed to be seductive. Made of silk, it clung lovingly to her curves, making the most of her full breasts and tiny waist. She added black heels, then stared doubtfully into the full-length guest-room mirror, wondering if she’d made the right choice.

“You are so beautiful.” Jeff’s hoarse voice took her by surprise; she hadn’t heard him come into the bedroom.

She turned and looked at him, tempted to echo his words as she took in his finely tailored dark suit that emphasized his muscular fitness so nicely. “You shouldn’t be in here with the door closed,” she told him with mock sternness, ordering her heart to stop fluttering so wildly. “You’ll shock your mother.”

“Then we won’t tell her,” he answered, stepping closer. “New dress?”

“Yes.” She turned slowly for him. “Like it?”

“Very much.” He slipped his arms around her. “And I love you.”

Autumn’s arms closed around his neck in a sudden rush of near desperation. “I love you, too, Jeff,” she told him in a voice that surprised even her with its raw intensity.