Adam’s brows drew together. “He didn’t call me.”
“He used the excuse about Saturday being your busiest night, but he wouldn’t have called you anyway. The message was for me.”
“What message?”
“That I shouldn’t consider accepting an out-of-town job.”
The other man cut a chunk of cheese and laid it on a slice of apple. “Try this. The cheese is an Époisses.”
Paul didn’t want the food, but he couldn’t see any polite way to refuse it. So he tossed it in his mouth and chewed. The sheer deliciousness distracted him for a moment. “This is good.”
Adam sat back, his elbows resting on the arms of the chair, his fingers steepled. “Were you considering the job or was Jimmy overreacting?”
Paul stared out the window. Something about Adam’s question demanded honesty. He looked back to meet the other man’s gaze. “I want the job but I wasn’t going to accept it.”
“Because of Jimmy.”
“And Eric.”
Adam nodded. “So what do you want to ask me?”
Paul took a deep breath. “Despite his performance on Saturday night, I think Jimmy is making progress. This may sound trivial, but he took a lot of time and trouble to stencil pictures of Eric’s favorite things on his bedroom walls. It took patience and discipline and concentration over a period of weeks. That’s a side of my brother I’ve never seen before. And today he apologized for Saturday night’s lapse. Another first. He even swore not to miss another AA meeting.”
Adam nodded again. For a man who made his living in the hospitality industry, he was surprisingly taciturn. Maybe he used his day off to recharge his conversational batteries. Paul decided the best approach was a direct one. “Here’s my question. Is my presence here in Sanctuary a healthy thing for Jimmy or does he use it as a crutch?”
“I’m not qualified to answer that question,” Adam said. “You understand I’m a sponsor only because I’ve been through the twelve-step program and stayed sober for a number of years. I don’t have any formal training in therapy or counseling.” He took a swallow of water. “However, Jimmy seems committed to being a significant part of his son’s life. That’s a powerful incentive to stay sober, especially as Eric grows older and is more aware of what condition his father is in.”
“Jimmy says he can hold it together during the times he has custody of Eric, but he has to fight harder when he’s alone.”
“Probably true, but he doesn’t have to be alone. He knows that from his AA meetings. Help is always just a phone call away.”
“So there’s a safety net in place, if he chooses to use it?” Paul hadn’t fully understood that until he heard Adam’s tone of commitment.
“Absolutely. That’s one of AA’s promises.” The chef shifted slightly. “Alcoholics are manipulative; that’s how they hold onto the people who love them in spite of their destructive behavior.”
“Are you saying Jimmy is manipulating me? That he doesn’t need me to stay here anymore?” Paul didn’t mention his agreement with Terri. They had left it open for renegotiation if the situation warranted it.
“That’s not something I can confirm.”
Paul recognized the care with which the other man was choosing his words. It reminded him of how he sometimes spoke to his clients. There were no guarantees in the law or in life, and Adam was making that clear.
However, he was also giving Paul a new perspective on his brother’s behavior. Paul considered Friday night’s dinner conversation. Maybe when he thought he was giving his brother a chance to surprise him, he hadn’t understood Jimmy’s reaction.
He had seen the fear in his brother’s eyes, but maybe he didn’t know what caused it. He had made an assumption, and Jimmy’s behavior on Saturday night seemed to confirm it, so he hadn’t probed further. “You’ve given me some food for thought.”
“Now let me give you some real food,” Adam said with a half smile. He pushed the plate of cheese closer to Paul.
“I appreciate the offer, but I’ll take a rain check.” His stomach wasn’t real receptive to intake right now.
Chapter 18
JULIA WALKED SLOWLY along the sidewalk, trying to wrap her mind around the idea of firing her uncle. Paul’s arguments made sense, but her heart seemed to twist in her chest at the thought. She tried to see through to the other side of the conversation she would be forced to have with Carlos, but she couldn’t picture how he would react. Not well, she suspected.
Before she could confront him, she needed the security of having a new agent. Although she knew it was Monday, she quickened her pace as she neared the Gallery at Sanctuary. Sure enough, a Closed sign hung in the door.
Disappointed, she took a moment to admire the Blake Larson sculpture she coveted, starting when she heard locks clicking open.
“What timing!” Claire said, swinging the door wide.
“Isn’t the gallery closed today?” Julia said, stepping inside while Claire relocked the door.
“That’s why I’m here,” Claire said. “Close your eyes.”
“Seriously?”
“I want you to get the full effect.”
Julia obeyed and felt Claire take a light grip on her wrist to tug her forward. After about ten steps, Claire pulled her to a stop. “All right, you can look.”
Julia gasped.
She stood in the center of an open pentagon formed by the freestanding white panels that added hanging space to the gallery. Claire had arranged them so that no matter which way she turned, one of her Night Mares galloped toward her.
“It’s…it’s kind of frightening.” Julia spun slowly, eyeing the black horses charging at her. “Are you sure it won’t scare the buyers away?”
Claire clapped her hands as satisfaction lit her eyes. “Perfect! Exactly the effect I was trying for.”
“Terrifying your patrons is a good sales technique?”
The other woman nodded. “These paintings are meant to evoke strong reactions, so we have to give them the chance to do that. The buyers for these will be excited by the drama, the emotional impact.” She did her own slow spin before turning back to Julia. “This is going to make a huge splash in the art world.”
Julia’s stretched nerves wound tighter. She wasn’t sure she wanted to make a huge splash. Maybe Carlos was right; she should stick to the safe stuff.
Claire turned one of the panels on its wheels so the painting faced the back wall. “I’m just going to flip them away from the street so no one can get a sneak preview.” Julia spun a second panel in the same direction. Claire seemed excited about her paintings, so it might be a good time to ask her if she would be Julia’s agent.
Julia waved toward the now-hidden paintings. “I have more of these at my studio, and my uncle doesn’t believe in them,” she said. “Would you consider being my dealer?”
Claire looked stunned. “I, well, I—”
“I’ll understand if you don’t want the job. They’re not easy paintings to sell.”
Claire scrubbed her palms against the beige twill slacks she was wearing. “It would be an honor to represent your work, but I’m not the person to do it.”
Julia frowned. “You think it’s good and you sell art.”
“It’s not that simple. You’re a well-established artist, so it’s not a question of building up an audience for your work. It’s a question of getting the maximum price for it. Your paintings should also be placed in carefully selected museum collections to add to your reputation.” Claire spread her hands wide. “Oh, there are so many things your career needs at this point, and I don’t move in those circles anymore.”
Julia felt a wash of relief. “I don’t care about those things. I just want someone to sell my work to people who appreciate it.”
“That’s not enough for someone with your talent.”
“But I trust you.”
“There are many reputable dealers I can put you in touch with.” Claire’s voice sounded a little strangled.
“I don’t want reputable. I want someone who will tell me whether the work is worthwhile. Not someone who will sell a painting just because it has my name on it.”
“I can’t. It would be doing you a disservice.”
Frustration made Julia’s hands ball into fists. She couldn’t force Claire to be her dealer. “Will you think about it?”
Claire sighed. “Yes, although I’ll also come up with other recommendations.”
Julia uncurled her fingers. “Deal.”
Loaded down with shopping bags, Claire walked into her living room to find Tim asleep on the oversize couch with Sprocket nestled on his chest. The little dog lifted his head to acknowledge her presence before laying it back on his paws. Her husband didn’t move. She couldn’t resist watching the man she loved to distraction as he slumbered unawares. She stood so long letting her eyes roam over him, her arms grew tired and she dropped the bags on the Oriental rug.
Sprocket twitched an ear, and Tim’s eyes came open as a slow smile spread over his face. “You’re home,” he said, as she bent down to brush back a curve of auburn hair from his forehead and kiss him. This disturbed the little dog, who gave her an irritated look before moving to the other end of the sofa.
Her husband took her wrist and tugged her down to sit beside him. “Did you find the perfect dress?”
“I found several perfect outfits, but I only bought two.” She ran her palm over his chest, so she felt the vibration of his chuckle.
“How about Julia?”
“She’s going to wear the Villar and…you don’t want to hear the details, do you?”
“Since I don’t know what a Villar is, they won’t mean much to me.”
“The Villar is the blouse she wore to dinner at our house, an original creation by an artist named Reuben Villar.”
Tim’s eyes took on the focused look that meant he was exploring his prodigious memory. “The thing that looked like a bunch of triangles sewn together?”
“You are impressive.” Claire frowned. “Julia asked me to be her agent.”
“I’m not surprised. You believe in her work.”
“She’s a top-selling artist. A lot of people believe in her work.”
“They believe in selling her work. Your belief is at a whole different level. She needs that kind of support right now.” He pushed himself upright, shifting her to the cushions beside him.
Claire chewed on her lip. “Maybe, but I can’t agree in good conscience. The price of her paintings could go into the stratosphere with the right dealer to promote them. Let’s face it, Sanctuary is not the center of the art universe, and I’m not going to leave you to jaunt around the world cultivating patrons.”
“Well, I always wanted to do some traveling that didn’t involve reading papers at scientific conferences. You can cultivate and I’ll sightsee.”
“What about your practice? You’re a busy man, even though you didn’t look like it when I walked in.”
“Maybe too busy now that I’ve got a beautiful wife to come home to.” His kiss was brief but filled with intent. “I’ve been thinking about hiring another vet to take on some of the workload.” Tim ran one hand up her arm. “You were right on the verge of a high-powered career in connoisseurship when you married me. Representing Julia is the perfect way to get back to that.”
Claire climbed onto his lap and twined her arms around his neck. “Hire the vet and let’s go traveling together. I don’t care about my former career.”
“But I do. You live here in Sanctuary because of me.”
“That’s right. Because you make me deliriously happy and I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” She threaded her fingers into his hair and tried to bring his head down to hers for another kiss.
He resisted, and when Tim resisted there was no budging him. “The feeling’s mutual, but I think you should consider Julia’s proposition.”
“All right, I’ll consider it. After you take my clothes off and have mind-blowing sex with me.”
All the resistance went right out of him.
Chapter 19
JULIA DROPPED HER shopping bags and flopped backward onto her bed at the inn. “I had no idea shopping could be so exhausting,” she said to the ceiling.
Carlos would have a coronary when he saw the bill. Her personal credit card was maxed out, so she’d had to put it on her business card, the one she used for art supplies. Her uncle paid that bill so he could keep track of the tax deductions, or something like that. Now she would have to take it over, along with all the other business tasks. She found herself looking forward to learning the ins and outs of that side of her art career.
Although they’d chatted nonstop on their shopping expedition, she and Claire had not discussed Julia’s need for an agent or Paul’s brother, both topics she was burning with curiosity about.
Her cell phone shrilled. Groaning at the effort of finding her purse somewhere among the heap of bags on the floor at her feet, she rolled off the bed and knelt to retrieve it.
“Am I interrupting your painting?” Paul’s voice came through the line.
Guilt struck at Julia. “I wish. I haven’t painted a stroke all day and I promised Claire something for the auction.” She plopped back down on the bed. “All I’ve done since I left your office is shop.”
“You’re complaining?”
“You’d be amazed at what hard work it is.”
“So are you too tired to go for a spin on my Harley?”
Julia sucked in a breath. “Your Harley is a motorcycle, right?” She was playing for time. Riding a motorcycle was another one of those things a person with epilepsy was strongly advised to avoid. Since the opportunity had never come up before, it hadn’t been hard to follow the doctors’ restriction. Now she found she wanted to try it. With Paul.
“It’s not just a motorcycle. It’s a 2002 Harley-Davidson VRSCA V-Rod.”
The pride in his voice overcame the last of her qualms. “I just got my second wind. Bring on the Harley hot rod!”
“V-Rod. I’ll be there in ten. Wear jeans and boots, if you have them.”
Galvanized by the prospect of the new experience, Julia scurried around the room, hanging up her new purchases and changing into her jeans and green cowboy boots. Biker chicks were supposed to wear black leather, but she had to make do with a black silk T-shirt under a gray hoodie. When she glanced in the mirror, she burst out laughing. She looked about as tough as a marshmallow.
She was walking down the stairs when the sound of a powerful engine roared through the front door of the inn. Bursting onto the porch, she saw Paul swing one long leg over the bike to dismount. Like her, he wore jeans, but his were topped by a black leather jacket. He pulled off his helmet and ran his fingers through his thick, dark hair before he turned and saw her.
The way his face lit up made her heart expand to nearly fill her chest. Even she, in all her inexperience, could have no doubt he was happy to see her. She flew down the steps and hurled herself against him. He staggered slightly at the impact as he caught her in his arms. “That’s what I call a hello,” he said.
She tilted her face up. “Now say hello to me.”
He bent her back over his arm nearly to the ground and kissed her on the lips. As he brought her back upright, she felt light-headed and grabbed at his arms to steady herself. A clutch of panic tightened her throat, but she fought it down. It was just the sudden change in altitude that made her dizzy. Nothing more serious.
“You okay?” he asked, the laughter in his eyes fading as he scanned her face.
“Just breathless from your kiss.”
He bent to kiss her again, this time slowly and deliberately. When he lifted his head, she was holding on to him because her knees had turned to jelly for a different reason. He looked down at her with heavy-lidded eyes. “Maybe later you’d like to ride something besides my bike.”
She felt the blood flushing the skin of her neck and cheeks. “Depends on how good your driving is.�
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His laugh held a slight rasp as he brushed her cheek with his finger. “Let’s get some leather and a helmet on you.”
He took her hand and led her toward the gleaming silver motorcycle parked in the circular drive. A study in curves, it dazzled in the bright sunlight. She especially liked the two chrome exhaust pipes that whooshed from front to back, widening as they went. “Wow! It looks like it’s going a hundred miles an hour even when it’s standing still.”
He patted the engine. “One hundred fifteen horsepower at eight thousand, two hundred fifty rpm. This hog can move.” The passenger’s seat had an extra helmet and jacket strapped to it. Paul freed them and held out the jacket. “From when I was a skinny teenager. It’s still going to be too big, but better to have the protection.”
She pivoted and slid her arms into it, pulling it around her to zip it. The sleeves fell past her fingertips and she struggled to roll the heavy leather up.
“Let me,” he said. She obediently held her arms out, loving the sight of his long fingers deftly coaxing the leather into neat folds.
“Your hands are so beautiful,” she said. “I’d like to do some studies of them. See if I can capture the strength under the elegance.”
He gave the sleeve a last turn and held his fingers out wide as he examined them. “Can’t say I’ve ever thought of them as anything other than useful.” He looked up at her with a wicked grin. “Especially for getting a certain reaction out of my favorite artist.”
She fought down her blush this time. “Yeah, they’re good at that.” Which is why she’d like to have some sketches to take home with her. It would make the memories more real. Now why’d she have to start thinking about that when she just wanted to enjoy the experience ahead of her?
She reached for the helmet and gave him a lascivious smile. “I can’t wait to feel this baby between my legs.”
“Caught in my own trap,” Paul said.
He adjusted the helmet and showed her how to climb onto the back of the motorcycle while he held it steady. He settled into the seat in front of her, and she wrapped her arms around his waist and snuggled up against the leather stretched over his back. The front of her thighs fit against the back of his like puzzle pieces. When he kicked on the engine, a flutter of nerves made her lace her fingers tightly together over the flat muscles of his abdomen.
Country Roads Page 17
