“A reception? For what purpose?”
“To show off my new paintings. The Night Mares.” She stifled the urge to add, the ones you refused to show anyone.
“That’s not a good idea.”
“Claire’s very excited about the new direction of my work.” It was amazing how difficult it was to contradict him. Her throat was so tight she had to work to force the words through it. “She finds it powerful.”
“Perhaps, but it’s not the sort of thing people wish to have in their homes, to live with. Even you call them nightmares.”
“Come to the reception. See what the patrons and critics say.”
“I wish to come up there tomorrow and speak with Mrs. Arbuckle.”
“No!” Her throat seemed to have reopened, partly because she didn’t want her uncle around to interfere with her fling with Paul. “I need some time.”
“Time for what?” Carlos sounded baffled and hurt.
Time to make love to a hot lawyer as often as she could before next Sunday, when she had to go back to her real life. “To…to rest. You know I need that.” She winced as she played the card of her condition, but it was the only excuse she could think of that would keep her uncle away.
“Then I will speak with Mrs. Arbuckle by telephone.”
“All right, but let me tell her to expect you.” She softened her voice. “Remember when Claire took my paintings for her New York gallery? We were both so excited. This is a wonderful way to thank her for believing in my work.”
“You feel this is the right way to repay her?”
He had to jab at her with his doubt again. She was almost grateful when a spurt of anger ripped through her. “She and I have total confidence in the Night Mares.”
“An hour, and then I will call.”
A thought struck her. “Please don’t mention my epilepsy to her.”
The silence drew out before her uncle spoke again. “I wondered that she would put you in such a stressful situation, given your condition.”
She had to convince him not to expose her secret to Claire. “Even if you don’t believe I’m cured, you always told me not to share the information with anyone in the art world. Claire is well connected; someone might find out.” Not for a moment did Julia believe Claire would reveal a secret she was asked to keep, but Carlos didn’t know that.
“And you will come home right after the reception?”
“Two days after it. I promised to donate a painting to a charity auction the following night. Claire thinks my presence will push the painting’s value up. It’s for a good cause.”
Her voice had taken on a pleading note, despite her efforts to sound firm and in control. That’s what her uncle could do to her.
“I will stay until Sunday to take you home,” Carlos said.
Now he wanted to intrude on her last night with Paul. How had everything gotten so complicated? She squared her shoulders and cleared her throat, injecting all the authority she could into her tone. “Thank you, but I’ve already arranged my transportation home.”
“I see.” He sounded more sorrowful than mad, which made her feel worse.
She gave him the gallery’s phone number and bid him a terse good-bye.
Walking over to the sofa, she flopped onto it, tilting her head over the back and crooking her arm over her eyes as she tried to untangle the threads of the conversation. Her uncle was upset that she discounted his opinion of her Night Mares, but he was also genuinely worried the stress of the reception would cause a seizure. His concern was real and it undermined her ability to hold on to her anger. He had hurt her deeply, but he also loved her and it tore at her to cause him pain in return.
She pulled her arm away from her face. With all Carlos’s pressuring, she’d almost missed something: when she’d told her uncle not to come to Sanctuary, he’d backed down and shifted to telephoning Claire. She couldn’t help feeling a small spurt of triumph. Maybe she just needed to treat Carlos more like Darkside: show strength, hide fear. Except her uncle was far more difficult to handle than the stallion.
Paul walked up the creaky wooden steps of the former Plants ’N Pages. Julia had asked him for a ride out to Healing Springs Stables so she could soak up more artistic inspiration. Peering through the screen door, he saw her in front of an easel, frowning and working a brush through a rag. Her hair was wound up into a lopsided knot, her face was smudged with white paint and charcoal, and all he wanted to do was tackle her onto the ratty velvet couch shoved in a corner of the empty shop.
He cleared his throat as he opened the door. Julia jumped and turned her head, a wide smile banishing the unhappy stare. “Thank God! I have artist’s block or something.”
In two strides he was behind her, pulling her soft curves against him. He nuzzled his face against her neck. “You smell delicious.”
“The only thing I smell like is gesso and turpentine.”
“Eau de Artiste,” he said, enjoying the feel of her warm body in his arms. “My favorite fragrance.”
“Mmm, I’m a fan of Legal Eagle,” she said with a shimmy that had him tightening his grip on her waist.
Needing a distraction, he looked over her shoulder at the easel. It held a canvas about two feet by two feet, its surface a bright, unsullied white. He glanced downward to where the legs of the easel stood in a drift of sheets of drawing paper covered with roughed-in drawings of horses. “Tough day at the office, eh?” he said.
She huffed out a breath. “I’ve never had this problem before. There was always something that wanted to be on the canvas.”
He felt tension pulling her away from him. “Maybe your brain is just overloaded with new images.” He tried for a deep, seductive tone as he added, “And new sensations.”
He cast a thankful glance skyward as she relaxed back into him. “That makes sense,” she said. “And there’s my biggest distraction. You.” She turned and plastered herself against him, wrapping her arms around him and murmuring his name. A quick wash of gratification at her last words was swamped by a stronger reaction to the press of her pliant body against him.
He’d been interested in the couch before, but now he was more focused on the counter. It was closer. He straightened so her feet came off the floor and walked them both over to where he could lift her higher to seat her on the linoleum. She opened her knees and he stepped into the space between her thighs. As he slid his hands up under her T-shirt and circled his thumbs over her already hard nipples, he heard the click of paintbrushes hitting the tile floor. Her head fell back, and he ran his lips up the exposed arch of her throat to take her mouth again.
He felt her fingers at the buttons of his shirt, and then her hands were on his bare chest and his rib cage and his abdomen, her warm, exploratory touch making his erection harder and harder. When she pulsed her hips against him, he passed the point of no return.
Her jeans and panties hit the floor, and he unzipped his fly to roll on a condom in record time. He had just enough brain left to make sure she was ready, although touching her wet heat nearly sent him off. Then he thrust inside her, his hands filled with the delicious curve of her buttocks as he held her at the edge of the counter.
Her fingers dug into his shoulders as she pushed her hips into his thrusts, so he went deep every time. He freed one of his hands to slide his finger down between them so he could add to her sensations.
“Paul! Oh yes, there! Oh please, more!” She went completely still for a long moment, and then she screamed and convulsed around him, her muscles clenching and relaxing, clenching and relaxing.
He gritted his teeth against the urge to finish, waiting until he felt the tension in her body soften slightly. Then he withdrew and surged in once more and joined her in a climax that left his body wrung out and his mind wiped blank.
She slumped against him, her body racked with tiny shudders. He wrapped his arms around her back protectively and savored the aftereffects.
“Paul?” Her breath tickled against his chest.
“Yes, sweetheart?” He kissed the top of her head.
“I think you melted every bone in my body.” She shifted in his arms. “Oh dear, I got charcoal on your shirt. I didn’t realize my hands were dirty.”
“You’re welcome to get charcoal on my one and only Armani suit as long as it leads to this.”
“So you’re not mad?”
Disbelief turned to laughter as it worked its way up his throat. “I walked in here expecting to have a nice chat and instead I get mind-blowing sex. What exactly do I have to be mad about?”
She huffed out a giggle against his bare skin. Incredibly, he could feel a faint stirring between his legs. He decided it was time to put a few inches of distance between them. Gently lowering Julia backward so she lay on the counter, he grabbed a paper towel from the roll on the counter and disposed of the condom. Then he picked up her panties and slipped them up her legs, sliding his hand under her behind and lifting her upward to tug the peach-colored satin into place.
“I love the feel of your hands against my skin.”
He froze as her words seemed to stroke down his chest and lower with almost the same impact her fingers had earlier. “If you say things like that, your panties are going to come right back off,” he said.
“I wouldn’t mind as long as you did all the work.” She heaved herself up onto her elbows, her T-shirt still bunched above the lacy bra that matched her panties. He hadn’t had time to appreciate her lingerie until now. The color made her skin look even creamier.
“Peaches and cream,” he said.
“You like my new undies? I just bought them this morning.”
“I like that they don’t cover up much.” He took another step backward, shoving his hands into his pockets to stop himself from reaching for the swell of her breasts again.
He cursed the streak of chivalry that made him turn away from such blatant temptation. Why couldn’t he just be a self-centered jerk and take her up on her offer of a repeat performance? Why did he have to care that she get pleasure from it too?
He pivoted away from her. “You should get dressed before I do something ungentlemanly.”
Chapter 14
WHERE’S DARKSIDE?” JULIA asked one of the grooms as she and Paul walked into the barn hand in hand. She still couldn’t believe she had sprawled across a counter in broad daylight, naked from the breasts down while a man she’d known for two days came inside her. When she thought about it rationally, she knew she should be shocked, but it all seemed natural for this new person she’d become in Sanctuary. She had less than a week before she went back to being wrapped in lamb’s wool, so she’d better enjoy her liberation, and that included seeing her whisper horse.
“Out in the paddock. He spent the night there because he was such a pain in the a—er, neck that the boss said to leave him.”
“Darkside?” Paul frowned. She felt his grip tighten. “What do you want with a horse who tried to tear your arm off?”
“I just want to take some pictures of him.” Julia knew he wouldn’t approve of her escapade with Darkside yesterday. Hopefully, no one would mention it to him. “He looks just like my Night Mares, you know.”
“Hey, Julia, Paul! I thought I heard that souped-up gas guzzler you drive come up the road.” Sharon strode toward them, wearing her usual outfit of polo shirt, britches, and paddock boots. “Can I get some legal advice since you’re here? I just got this contract in from the Laurels. They want me to board a bunch of polo ponies for a match that’s being played later this summer. I don’t want to sign anything without you taking a gander at it.”
Paul hesitated. Julia gently disengaged her hand from his. “You go ahead with Sharon. I’ll meet you in her office.”
“Don’t get too close to Darkside,” he warned. “Next time he might get your skin instead of your sleeve.”
Julia caught the narrow-eyed look Sharon gave them and hurried to say, “I’ll pay attention this time.” She couldn’t fault him for his protectiveness; after all, only his quick reaction had saved her arm from Darkside’s teeth. Still, he wasn’t going to keep her from her whisper horse.
She watched Paul and Sharon’s well-matched strides as they walked away together. Just as she was about to head for the paddock, Sharon looked back over her shoulder and gave Julia a wink.
“I wonder if she really has a contract,” Julia muttered, detouring into the treat room for some carrots. Tucking them in her pocket, she jogged out to the paddock, camera in hand.
To her surprise, a couple of the stable hands greeted her by name. A third one shook his head as he led a big bay past her. “You’re that plumb crazy artist. Maybe you can get Darth Horse back in the barn.”
Her heartbeat kicked up a notch. Could she really lead Darkside back to his stall? It was a crazy idea. She couldn’t ride even the most placid teaching horse. Why on earth did she think she could handle a high-strung, temperamental stallion that even experienced horse people couldn’t deal with?
Maybe that was why Darkside was her whisper horse: no one would ever expect her to ride him.
“Let’s just see what kind of mood he’s in,” she murmured as she approached the gate. Peering between its rails, she saw the big black horse standing at the opposite side of the paddock, head and tail lifted as he gazed in the direction of the outdoor riding ring. With her eyes she traced the beautiful arch of his neck down to where it met the strong line of his back and along to his muscular hindquarters. His black coat glistened with tints of blue and red in the sun and the breeze swept his tail into a ripple of satin.
For an insane moment, she thought about opening the gate and slipping into the field. Then she thought of how Paul would react, and she climbed up to sit on top of the fence instead. She wanted to photograph Darkside up close, so she had to get his attention.
“Hey, buddy, I’ve got carrots,” she called, keeping her voice low and calm.
He swung his head around and blew out a challenge. Catching sight of her, he laid his ears back and charged across the grass, skidding to a stop just in front of her perch.
She forced herself not to flinch and held out a carrot on her palm. “Want a snack, big guy?”
He stretched his nose toward her, nostrils flaring. Then he jerked back and squealed out a high whinny.
“Tempting, isn’t it? But you have to come closer to get it.”
Horse and woman stared at each other. Darkside took a step forward and lipped the carrot off her hand.
“Want another one?” She reached into her back pocket. The stallion took another step toward her and snuffled at her knees. She offered the carrot to him. This time he didn’t hesitate to take it, his big teeth crunching on the crisp vegetable.
She let out her breath and ran her hand down his glossy neck. He snorted but didn’t shy away. Keeping her eye on the telltale angle of his ears, she smoothed his mane and stroked his downy nose.
After bribing him with another carrot, she eased her point-and-shoot camera out of her back pocket, letting him sniff it before she took a shot. He twitched at the electronic noise but didn’t bolt. She took several close-ups and put the camera away, deciding she’d better get off the fence before Paul finished with Sharon’s contract.
Darkside was standing so calmly she couldn’t resist laying her cheek against his for a few seconds as she murmured what a good horse he was. When she drew back, he whickered, and she could almost believe he regretted the absence of her touch.
“Good-bye, handsome,” she said, swinging one leg around and down, slotting her foot onto the rail below the top one so one leg was on each side of the fence.
Darkside threw his head up and knocked against her knees. She teetered, pinwheeling her arms to regain her balance, but her position was too precarious, and she felt herself pitching over backward. She willed herself to go limp; Papi had once told her that was the best thing to do when falling off a horse. If you tensed up, you were more likely to get hurt.
She heard a shout, and
then she hit something that wasn’t the ground. A loud “oof” of expelled air told her she’d landed on a person. When she lifted her head, she found a very angry-looking Paul lying under her, his chest heaving as he sucked in deep breaths.
“Are you all right?” She rolled off of him to make it easier for him to breathe. “I didn’t mean to fall on you.”
“Are you…totally…insane?” he gasped.
Several shadows fell across them, and Julia looked up to see a ring of concerned faces staring down. She felt a little surge of joy that it wasn’t because she’d had a seizure.
“What’s going on here?” Sharon asked, striding up to the group. She knelt down. “What happened?”
“I fell off the fence and landed on Paul,” Julia said. “I’m okay, but I knocked the wind out of him.”
“I’m…fine.” He shoved himself into a sitting position. “You…are…certifiable.”
“Shhh,” Julia said. “Wait until you catch your breath before you yell at me.” His usually silvery eyes had gone dark with fury.
“Doesn’t look like any bones are broken,” Sharon said.
“You deliberately put yourself in harm’s way,” Paul said, his voice tight, “going near an animal you know is dangerous. What were you thinking?”
“Sharon thinks Darkside is my whisper horse,” Julia began.
Paul swung his gaze around to the other woman. “You encouraged her to go near Darkside? She can’t even ride.”
Sharon didn’t blink. “She’s got him eating out of her hand. Darnedest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Paul was practically vibrating with anger, and Julia decided she had to intervene. She laid her hand on his chest, where she could feel his heart pounding. “Darkside didn’t mean to knock me off the fence. He was just saying good-bye.”
“For God’s sake, horses don’t say good-bye,” Paul said.
“I gotta say, I’ve never seen a man move as fast as you did,” Sharon said. “One minute you were standing beside me at the barn door, and the next you were playing landing mat.”
Country Roads Page 13
