“He has good reflexes from foosball,” Julia said.
Sharon directed a knowing look at Paul’s arm curving around her. “I think he has good motivation.”
Paul vaulted to his feet, holding out his hand to Julia with a clear air of command. When she put hers in his grasp, he yanked her off the ground and into his arms. “You scared the hell out of me,” he said into her hair. “Don’t ever do that again.”
She knew what he meant; he wanted her to stay away from Darkside, and she wasn’t going to promise that. So she just said, “Mmmph,” against the warmth of his chest and hugged him back.
He held her until his heartbeat slowed to its normal pace. As he released her, he stepped back, running both hands through his hair.
“Did I hurt you?” she asked. “I fell right on top of you.”
He shook his head, the tension in his face relaxing. “You’re just a wood sprite. You barely weigh a thing.”
“At least let me make sure your clothing is undamaged.” She walked around behind him and winced at the dirt and grass clinging to his shirt and slacks. Without thinking, she began to brush at it, her hands traveling over his back and shoulders before moving down to stroke his tight butt and the hard muscles of his thighs.
“Thanks, but it would be safer if you didn’t keep that up,” he said, twisting around to catch her hands.
As his fingers closed around her wrists, she shivered with the knowledge that she was poking at a tiger. It was thrilling and a little frightening, but she was determined to enjoy this experience fully. She’d never been involved with anyone like Paul Taggart before; he was protective of her, yes, but he treated her as an adult woman, unlike her family. In fact, he thought she was fascinating.
“Now after dinner tonight is a whole different scenario,” he said, his eyes glinting.
“I don’t remember being invited,” Julia said, enjoying the fact he still held on to her.
“Sweetheart, you are most definitely on the guest list. And it numbers exactly one.”
Chapter 15
JULIA FIDGETED WITH the fringe on her sage-green shawl as Paul drove her to the 1827 House, the nicest restaurant in downtown Sanctuary. After he told her where they were eating dinner, she’d made another flying visit to Annie B’s to buy a slim-fitting pleated taffeta sheath in shades of lavender and celadon. It looked like an Impressionist painting, especially when she added a necklace and earrings of glass leaves in varied hues of green. Paul had whistled when he saw her, so she figured it worked for him.
She had wanted to whistle at him too when he walked in her door dressed in a silver-gray suit and pale-mauve shirt. The suit draped over his tall, rangy frame like an elegant glove, and the shirt made his olive skin glow. Unfortunately, she’d never been good at whistling, so she’d settled for a slow scan up and down after which she gave him a long, appreciative kiss. That seemed to work for him too.
“You’ve gotten very quiet,” he said. “What’s bothering you?”
“Claire called after you dropped me at the inn. She’s set up a phone interview for me with some influential art blogger. It will be good for my show and the auction, but I’m nervous.” She hadn’t wanted to confess her inexperience to Claire, but nervous was an understatement about how she felt at the prospect of talking to Paxton Hayes. “My uncle has always handled all my publicity. I don’t even know what he tells the press.”
“We can do some research online,” Paul said. “Read the fellow’s blog. When is the interview?”
“Two o’clock tomorrow. He has to have time to write the article and post it, so people get interested in the show.”
“That doesn’t give us much time, but we’ll do some role-playing. Although I’m not current on what art bloggers want to know.” His smile flashed.
She laid her hand on his forearm, feeling like a drowning person who’d been thrown a lifeline. “Would you really do that with me?”
“As a lawyer, I’m responsible for coaching witnesses on their testimony, so this is just part of the job. Especially since you’ve retained me.”
“Oh right. I keep forgetting I sleep with my legal advisor. Does that reduce the fee?”
“You want me to take it out in trade?” His eyebrows rose as he cast a sideways glance at her. “That could be arranged.”
He parked the ’Vette with a flourish and came around the car to help her out. Her high-heeled strappy purple sandals made her teeter on the gravel, and his arm instantly went around her. His hand splayed over the side of her hip, its warmth and strength easily penetrating the thin taffeta.
They strolled along a stone path that wound through beds of fragrant antique roses, showy peonies, and splashy poppies before they reached a stone house with multipaned windows glowing from within and a steady hum of voices wafting through its open front door.
“Paul, my friend, we have a table for you upstairs,” the maître d’ said as they entered. He collected two menus and led them through the dining room.
From every other table they passed, someone called out a greeting to her escort. As he had at the Black Bear, Paul smiled and nodded and kept propelling her forward with his hand. Only one diner, an older man, actively tried to waylay them, and Paul dodged him with a quip and a brief squeeze of the man’s shoulder.
“Thanks, Joe,” Paul said, taking the menus as the maître d’ held Julia’s chair. “It’s exactly what I asked for.”
“What did you ask for?” Julia asked after Joe left.
“A table in the quietest, darkest corner he had available.”
“Embarrassed to be seen with me?”
His smile was rueful. “People forget I’m not the mayor anymore. They want to talk.”
“I could tell by our procession through the main dining room.”
“Maybe I should have gone with my first instinct, which was dinner at my house.” His smile went a little awry. “But I have the right to take a beautiful woman out to a nice restaurant.”
She reached across the table and wrapped her fingers around his. “If anyone other than our waiter comes up to the table, I’ll be very rude. It doesn’t matter if people here don’t like me, since I’ll be leaving soon.”
A strange expression crossed his face. His smile and eyes softened, but there was an almost sad wistfulness about him.
“Joe promised to seat only out-of-towners up here tonight,” he said, handing her a menu.
“Good evening, Mr. Taggart. Joe asked me to take care of you tonight.” A slim brunette in her thirties, dressed in the wait-staff’s uniform of blue shirt, black tie, and black slacks, appeared at their table.
“Since when am I Mr. Taggart to you, Lisa?”
Lisa smiled, her blue eyes sparkling. She was quite beautiful, and Julia felt a twinge of jealousy. “Since you’re the customer, and I’m the waitress.”
“Lisa, this is Julia Castillo. Julia, Lisa Miller. We went to school together from the third grade on and she married my old drinking buddy Louie.”
Julia relaxed at the word married. “Do you have any good stories about Paul?”
“You’d have to ask my husband,” Lisa said. “He and Paul were always getting called to the principal’s office, and I wanted nothing to do with them.” Lisa lifted her pad and pen. “No more fraternizing. Pretend I’m just a waitress you don’t know.”
“Is there anyone in this town he doesn’t know?” Julia asked.
Lisa smiled. “That’s why he has to pretend. Now how about a cocktail?”
“I think we’ll have champagne,” Paul said.
“Oh, one piece of good news, and I’ll get you our best bottle. Jimmy and Eric are going camping with us after all. Terri was willing to switch weekends.”
Paul picked up a spoon and began spinning it through his fingers. “Jimmy gave me the good news yesterday. Eric would have been really disappointed to miss the trip.”
“You’re invited too,” Lisa said. “We’ve got an extra tent.”
He shook his
head with what looked like genuine regret. “Wish I could, but I’m committed to the theater auction.”
“That’s a shame. All the boys love it when you come.” Lisa flipped her ponytail back over her shoulder. “All right, no more chatting, I swear.”
After she left, Julia looked at Paul. “You go camping with your nephew?”
His eyes glowed with affection. “As often as I can. The last camping trip we took, he got sprayed by a skunk. He said it was the best weekend ever.”
“So you slept in a tent with him?” She couldn’t wrap her mind around the idea.
“Sure did. Which meant I nearly got sprayed by the skunk too. Eric snuck food into the tent, and the skunk decided he wanted to share. My nephew tried to protect his Doritos and I had to referee.”
She enjoyed her mental image of Paul, dressed only in a pair of gym shorts—since that’s what her stepbrothers always slept in—standing between a small boy clutching a bag of chips and a glowering skunk. “Sounds like you failed since Eric got sprayed.”
“I found out skunks don’t speak Latin.”
“Latin?”
“When I told the skunk the Doritos were not bona vacantia, and therefore he was committing a trespass de bonis asportatis, he didn’t grasp the concept.”
“I sympathize with the skunk.”
His grin glimmered in the candlelight. “The Doritos were not ownerless goods and he was committing larceny.”
“Seems to me he should have sprayed you.”
“He didn’t want to end up in court. Skunks are notoriously averse to litigation.”
Laughter bubbled up her throat. Being with Paul was better than drinking champagne. It felt as though she’d been living in twilight until she journeyed to Sanctuary and found him and her whisper horse.
She sobered at the thought of Darkside. “There’s something I need to tell you,” she said, fidgeting with one of the empty champagne flutes a busboy had placed on the table.
“You stole those paintings from another artist.”
“What! Of course I—oh, you’re joking.” She scowled at him. “This is serious.”
He slid the flute away from her restless fingers.
She lifted an eyebrow at him, since he was the worst offender when it came to twirling dishes. She spread her hands flat on the table. “Sharon was right. Darkside is definitely my whisper horse.”
Paul pressed his lips together.
Julia rushed to explain. “I know you think he’s dangerous and I’m just asking to be hurt, but it’s important for me to figure out why he’s in my paintings.”
He stared at the small fire guttering in the stone hearth before he brought his eyes back to her. “Do you know why Sharon owns Darkside?”
Julia shook her head.
“Because he put his previous owner in a wheelchair. They were going to destroy the horse, but Sharon—who is as certifiable as you are—offered to take him.”
“His old owner must have done something to make him behave that way.” Horror at the thought of her magnificent whisper horse being killed had her by the throat.
“He’s a killer, Julia.”
“No. I’ve looked in his eyes and there’s no darkness, just confusion.” She sat forward. “I can help him.”
A muscle in Paul’s jaw worked. “You have to do what you have to do.”
“So you understand.”
“No, but I’m not your uncle.”
She reached across to tuck her hand in his. “I don’t mind when you try to protect me. It’s kind of sexy.”
Julia heaved a sigh of relief as she saw a real smile tilt the corners of Paul’s lips. “You say the damnedest things.”
She had been expecting him to explode at any minute and had been mentally kicking herself for bringing up Darkside. However, it seemed likely he would find out from someone else, and she didn’t want Paul to think she had broken any promises.
Lisa interrupted their conversation to pour the champagne. As Paul raised his glass, his cell phone emitted a series of shrill rising notes.
“Not now,” he muttered.
The cell phone sounded again, the notes seeming faster and more urgent. He raked a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I have to take this call.” Standing, he walked toward an empty alcove of the small dining room with the phone to his ear. As he moved away, she heard him say, “Jimmy?”
He had reacted the minute he heard the ringtone, which meant it had to be someone with a powerful claim on him. Lisa had mentioned his brother, Jimmy, so Julia suspected he was the caller.
After a short conversation, Paul dropped the phone back in his pocket. When he turned, she could see tension in the set of his shoulders and the hard-etched lines of his face. “I’m sorry, but I have to take you back to the inn. There’s a family matter that needs dealing with now.” His face softened as he looked down at her. “This is not how I wanted our evening to end.”
“Is something wrong with your nephew?” she asked, putting her hand in his and letting him pull her to her feet.
“No, Eric’s with his mother this weekend, and she lives about a mile outside town, thank God.” He didn’t offer any further explanation.
“If there’s anything I can do to help, I’d like to.”
He cupped Julia’s face in his hands and leaned down to give her a tender kiss. “We have to go.”
As they drove back to the Traveller Inn, Julia noticed his white-knuckled grip on the wheel and the grim set of his mouth. There was no sign of Paul the affable ex-mayor or Paul the charming and passionate lover. This was a man she didn’t recognize, and she wished she knew how to call back one of his other selves, because this Paul made her understand how little she really knew him.
He pulled the ’Vette into the parking lot and started to get out. Julia opened her own door before he got around the car and teetered up onto her high heels. “You don’t have to worry about me.” She stretched up to kiss him. “Go!”
He hesitated a moment before his mouth relaxed into a half smile. “Given the crime rate in Sanctuary, I guess you’ll be safe between here and the front door. I…we—” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. This wasn’t what I intended.” He lifted her hand to press a quick kiss on the palm. Then he strode back around the long hood and disappeared into the car’s interior. The headlights flashed once and the Corvette swept around the circular driveway and out onto the street.
She pulled her stole tighter around her shoulders and wondered about the demons Paul so carefully concealed.
Paul yanked the steering wheel left as an inebriated patron reeled out of Archie’s Bar and Games and into the parking lot. Nosing the ’Vette into an empty space, he got out and turned to brace his forearms on the car’s cool, hard roof, drawing in and releasing several deep breaths to control the anger and frustration boiling within him.
He kept seeing the bewildered expression on Julia’s face. He should have come up with some explanation for his abrupt departure, but he couldn’t bring himself to confess his brother was a hopeless drunk. He only had a week with her, and he wanted to keep all the ugliness away for that short period. Baffling her was better than soiling their time with the sordid truth.
Pushing himself away from the car, he straightened the lapels of his jacket before walking to the bar’s battered pine door and slamming it open.
The reek of smoke, the thumping bass of the electronic jukebox, and the cacophony of voices raised and slurred by alcohol smacked into him like a fist. This had been his bar of choice in his youth since they accepted his fake ID without a blink. It was here he had honed his foosball game. Now the place made him feel old and tired.
He shouldered his way through the mix of teenagers and farmhands, nodding to the bartender as he approached. “Hey, Vince. Thanks for the phone call.”
“He’s in the office,” Vince said. “He gave me his cell phone to call you.”
Paul felt the anger start to build again. His brother had made certain he would come runn
ing. He pulled a fifty out of his wallet and held it out to the bartender.
Vince waved it away. “All I did was call you.”
Paul slid it across the scarred wooden counter. “Buy your wife a present.”
Vince looked at the bill before swiping it up and pocketing it.
Paul nodded and headed for the door that led behind the bar’s public rooms. Someone called out his name, but he didn’t bother even to lift a hand in greeting. It would be too tempting to start a good old-fashioned bar fight to vent his fury since he couldn’t take it out on his brother.
Two strides took him down the cracked brown linoleum of the hallway and to the office door. He turned the knob and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. Jimmy lay sprawled and snoring on a brown-and-orange plaid couch whose springs sagged to the floor. Paul stood looking down at his brother, wondering how the cute, annoying kid who followed him everywhere had become an alcoholic who nearly lost the right to spend time with his own son.
He searched the slack face for signs of the younger brother he’d taught to swing a bat and drive a car, the nervous kid he’d driven to the movies for his first date, the cocky teenager who’d dreamed up some of their best pranks.
All the anger drained from his body, and he slumped into a threadbare red brocade chair beside his brother.
Jimmy might have set out to get Paul’s attention, but at least he had chosen a bar where he was least likely to be seen by people who would tell his ex-wife about it.
He reached out to give Jimmy’s shoulder a shake. His brother opened his bloodshot blue eyes and blinked at him. “Whah?”
“I’m here to take you home.” He stood.
“Paul?” Jimmy pushed himself upright and scrubbed his palms over his face. “What are you doing here?”
Irritation pulsed in his temples, but Paul kept his voice quiet. “You asked Vince to call me because you knew you shouldn’t drive home.”
“Oh yeah. Vince took my car keys away.” His words were indistinct around the edges. “I guess you’re pissed at me.”
Paul sighed and sat down again. “I thought you were going to your AA meetings.”
Country Roads Page 14
