“Spell of low blood sugar.” Paul stopped him again, this time with a scowl.
Carlos met Paul’s gaze before he nodded, having received the message at last. “It is best if you put her on her side.”
Paul eased her over, making sure her arms and legs were in comfortable positions.
Carlos fell silent and sat back on his heels, while Claire knelt to help Paul unhook the heavy necklace from around Julia’s throat.
“I don’t think she ate anything today,” Claire murmured. “She said her stomach was upset. And she’s been working late to finish the painting of Darkside.”
Carlos tsked. “She knows she has to take care of herself.”
“You can’t trust these artistic types to remember to keep a normal schedule,” Paul said, casting a fierce glare at Julia’s uncle to make sure he stayed silent about Julia’s secret. He pulled the chopsticks out of Julia’s bun and loosened it, his fingers gently stroking the silk of her hair.
Claire stood to shoo away the guests who had gathered around Julia’s limp form, assuring them, “She’ll be fine. In the excitement of getting ready for tonight she forgot to eat.”
Paul watched for the expansion and contraction of Julia’s chest as he laid his fingers over the pulse on her wrist. It was regular, if not strong. She wasn’t convulsing or having muscle spasms. All he could do was wait and wonder if it was a bad omen that she had blacked out at the sight of him.
It seemed like an eternity, but according to his watch, it was only a minute and forty-five seconds before her eyelids fluttered open. She blinked several times and turned her head to look up at him. “You came.” She frowned. “But why are you dressed like that?”
“It doesn’t matter. Just lie still.” He beckoned to the tall man he’d nearly knocked down. “Could you ask one of the servers for some orange juice?”
“Julia, how do you feel?” Carlos asked.
“Like an idiot,” she said. “It’s not what you think, Tío. I should have eaten something.”
“You don’t know that,” her uncle said.
“If she says she fainted from hunger, that’s what happened,” Paul said. “She’s been standing up all night too.” Not that he was entirely convinced, but he had to trust Julia to know her own body.
A young woman appeared with a glass of orange juice on a silver tray. Paul helped Julia into a sitting position and held the glass to her lips. She took the glass out of his hand and drank several swallows. Her stomach growled so loudly she clamped her free hand over it.
Paul gave her a smile. “Keep drinking.”
She gulped down the rest of the juice, and he was relieved to see color returning to her cheeks. Carlos must have felt the same way, because he nodded to Paul.
“Is she going to be all right?” the tall man leaned down to ask.
“As soon as we get some food in her.”
The man straightened and turned away, saying, “Interesting company she keeps.”
Carlos coughed.
“I’m going to take you back to the office,” Paul said, removing the glass from Julia’s hand. “Mr. Castillo, will you round up some food?”
Julia tried to get her feet under her, but Paul slipped one arm behind her knees and surged upward with her in his arms. She squawked and squirmed. “I can walk.”
“Maybe, but this is safer. Hold still.”
Having her warm body pressed against him and her hair spilling over his arm made him want to walk out the back door and keep going. As he turned them both sideways through the doorway to the office, he allowed himself to lower his lips to the top of her head, brushing the waves lightly and inhaling the exquisite scent of her. An overlay of exotic perfume, an undernote of turpentine, and just Julia. To think, a few hours ago he’d believed he’d never get to touch her again.
He laid her on the couch, propping a pillow under her head before he sat down beside her.
She grabbed his jacket and pulled herself up to a sitting position facing him. “Why are you wearing those clothes?”
Julia waited, wishing her head wasn’t pounding in rhythm with her heartbeat.
“I came to take you on a motorcycle ride.” He was smiling at her in a strange way.
“You donated your motorcycle to the gala.”
“I bought it back.”
“Why?” She was hoping against hope.
He picked up a strand of her hair and wrapped it around his finger. “Remember you told me Darkside could change? And my brother could change? Well, I needed the motorcycle to convince you I could change.”
The door opened to admit Claire and Carlos, laden down with plates and glasses of juice. Julia growled in frustration. Paul winked and gave her hair one of the teasing tugs she loved so much. He let them fuss over her for a minute and then firmly ushered them back out, saying she would eat better with less distraction.
“I’m not eating until you finish,” she said, as he picked up a plate piled with hors d’oeuvres and brought it over to her.
“Okay,” he said, sitting down beside her and putting the plate on the end table. Her astonishment must have shown on her face because he said, “You see, I’ve changed.”
She was going to explode if he didn’t tell her what she wanted to hear. She grabbed the lapels of his jacket and shook them, making the leather creak. “Get to the point.”
His half smile evaporated, and she wondered if her hope was misplaced. She felt better when he took her hand and laced their fingers together.
“You told me I had to give Darkside and my brother a chance to be better people, or horses…you know what I mean.”
There was no sign of the smooth-talking former mayor now.
“I watched you ride that stallion and it took my breath away. You’d transformed him into the horse”—he shot her a humorous look—“he was meant to be. When he threw you, it felt like a betrayal of all that trust you’d given him.”
“He didn’t throw me. I fell off.”
He took a deep breath. “Right. He shied like any horse would. He wasn’t trying to hurt you.”
She nodded and squeezed his hand in approval. He looked at her, his face tight with the strain of whatever emotions he was reining in. “Today Eric ended up in the emergency room because he tangled with a swarm of bees and got multiple stings.”
“Oh no!” she gasped. “Is he okay?”
“He’s fine. Just itchy,” he added with a reminiscent smile. “Terri called me to ride to the rescue, but when I got there, Jimmy had already handled it. Better than I could, because he’d taken a first-aid course before their last camping trip. I’m not saying he doesn’t have serious issues to deal with, but he’s got a powerful reason to fix them. I’m just in the way.”
Julia touched his cheek. “Never.”
He turned his head to kiss her palm. “There are still some things to work out, but my brother doesn’t need a keeper anymore.”
Her heart leaped, but he didn’t pull her into his arms and declare his undying love.
“I was a real asshole yesterday,” he said, “and I owe you an apology…”
“I’m not interested in apologies,” she said.
“But—”
“Maybe later.”
He sat silent a moment before saying, “I brought the bike to prove I was done trying to make your decisions for you. If you say you’re cured of the epilepsy, then we’re going out on the hog. If you think that devil horse will let you control him, then I’ll pick you up when you fall off.”
He stopped and scanned her face, his silver-gray eyes dark with uncertainty. “And if you’re crazy enough to want to stay here in Sanctuary with me, then I hope like hell you’ll do it. Because if you don’t, I’m going to camp out on your doorstep in North Carolina until you change your mind.”
Now he pulled her into his arms, crushing her against him and murmuring into her hair, “I love you so much it nearly rips my heart out. Give me a second chance.”
Love and relief and e
xhaustion sent cascades of tears down her cheeks, and she burrowed into him. “I’ll give you all the chances you want,” she said, slipping her arms underneath his jacket so she could feel the heat of his body.
He unwrapped one of his arms to tilt her face up. “You’re crying,” he said with a frown.
“I thought I’d never see you again after tonight, and now, well, I hope—” She faltered to a stop because she’d been about to say she would get to spend the rest of her life with him.
“Now you’re stuck with me forever,” he finished for her before he brought his mouth down on hers, touching her lips gently at first but increasing the intensity as she responded. His hands began to move over her body, stroking the satiny fabric of her blouse so it slid sensually against her skin. She guided one of his hands to her breast.
He lifted his head, his breathing audible. “There’s a whole gallery full of people out there.”
“I know, so let’s get out of here.” She wanted to be naked and wrapped in his arms so she could obliterate all the wretchedness of the last few days. “On your hog.”
He hesitated and her elation took a dive.
“I have to ask you this,” he said, a line of worry between his brows. “Did you really faint from hunger or were you just saying that for your uncle’s benefit?”
“It was really from not eating,” Julia said, understanding his need to know. “It was completely different from a seizure.”
He nodded and reached for the filled plate. “I trust you to know, but we’re not going until you’ve eaten.”
She could see the worry in his eyes and loved him all the more for overcoming it to accept her word. She wanted to fly through the night with him, the wind blocking out everything except the two of them together. She shoved two miniquiches in her mouth. “Orange juice,” she mumbled as she tried to swallow the oversize bite.
He fetched her the glass as she stuffed in two more canapés. She washed them down with a slug of juice and licked her fingers, making his eyes go dark and hungry. “I know what you’re thinking and I like it,” she said.
He stood and held out his hand. “Let’s ride.”
Claire had been hovering near the hallway leading to her office. She couldn’t leave the reception, but she was concerned about Julia’s health. Julia’s uncle had taken up a position just inside the hall, so when she saw him turn toward the office door, she hurried to join him.
She heaved a sigh of relief when Julia emerged beside Paul, her face radiant.
“Mi Julia, you are recovered?” Carlos said, the lines in his forehead smoothing away.
“Completely, Tío.” She let go of Paul and threw her arms around her uncle for a quick hug. “I was just too nervous to eat.”
Paul met Claire’s gaze. He was wearing his old devil-may-care grin and her heart leaped with joy for him.
“Can you spare Julia for the rest of the reception?” he asked. “We have someplace we need to be.”
Claire smiled in answer to his as she nodded and shooed them back down the hall. “Go now before anyone sees you!”
She watched them disappear out the back door with a sense of satisfaction. Tim strolled up just as the roar of a motorcycle engine filtered through the hum of conversation. “Sounds like your plan worked,” he said, slipping his arm around her waist.
“My plans always work,” Claire said with serene self-confidence as she gave her husband’s ribs a light squeeze. She noticed Julia’s uncle still gazing toward the back door and started to say something reassuring when Belle came bustling up, a fistful of envelopes in her hand.
“These are the written bids for the Castillo painting for tomorrow night,” she said. “You vouched for most of these folks, but there are a couple I wanted to check with you.”
Claire waited as Belle consulted her notes. “Virgil Hofstatter?”
“Yes, he’s a client from my New York days.”
“How about Sandra Barron?”
“A noted collector from Texas.”
“Then there was this weedy-looking fellow with an unusual name who claimed you knew him. Here it is. Paxton Hayes.”
Belle looked up to find the normally controlled, dignified Claire Parker seize her husband’s hands and swing him into a victory dance.
Epilogue
One Year Later
THE CHANDELIERS IN the ballroom at the Laurels sparkled over the tables of elegantly dressed guests. Julia fidgeted with one of her long, dangling earrings until Claire leaned over the empty chair between them. “Did I tell you another painting sold in Milan? The gallerist called today, demanding more. She wants you and Paul to come back for another reception next year.”
“I’m pretty sure she’s more interested in Paul than me,” Julia said, remembering how the woman had ogled him.
“I’m sure she’s more interested in the money she makes from selling your work.”
“Where did Uncle Paul go?” Eric piped up from across the table, pulling at his already crooked necktie.
“To talk to the man who hired him,” Jimmy said.
“His boss?” Eric asked.
“Not exactly,” Julia said. “Uncle Paul is his own boss. He runs the whole Pro Bono Project.”
“That’s why he goes to Washington all the time,” Eric said. “I’ve been to see the space shuttle with him. And the Spy Museum. It was cool.”
“Don’t forget the Capitol building and the White House,” Jimmy reminded him.
“They were okay.”
“I thought they were boring,” Julia teased. She’d been on that particular expedition with them.
Eric shrugged. “Maybe a little.”
“Good evening,” a man’s voice boomed through the ballroom.
“Oh great, another speech,” Eric muttered. He’d been excited about coming to a grown-up dinner for Uncle Paul, but there had been one speech too many for him.
Jimmy shushed him with a glint of sympathy in his eyes. Everyone at the table turned in their chairs to face the raised podium. The man at the microphone had gray hair and wore a tuxedo. His glasses flashed in the lights as he looked around the room.
Julia barely spared him a glance. Her gaze was focused on the tall, dark-haired man standing slightly behind the speaker, looking sexy as hell in his well-tailored tux. The man she’d fallen more and more in love with every day she’d spent with him over the last twelve months.
“I’m Ben Serra, and I’d like to tell you a little bit about Paul Taggart, the man who both imagined and brought to life the Pro Bono Project. First, you should know that he threatened to resign if I did this.”
Polite laughter filled the room, but it wasn’t far from the truth. Paul had objected strenuously to being honored tonight, only capitulating because Ben promised to make it a fund-raiser. All of the guests had paid far more than their gourmet meal had cost because they believed in Paul’s creation. But they also wanted to meet its charismatic director.
“As you know, the project has been up and running less than a year, yet it has handled seven times as many cases as we originally planned for. Only the tireless efforts of the man standing next to me made this possible. He’s a master recruiter, a fair task-master, and an exacting judge of quality. He’s just not good at taking a compliment.”
Julia chortled under her breath because although Paul flashed a good-natured smile, she could see his fingers drumming against his thigh.
“There’s no plaque or crystal bowl because I was afraid he might wing them at me”—Ben paused to let the laughter die down—“but no one deserves one more than Paul Taggart, director of the Pro Bono Project.”
Paul shook hands with Ben and stepped up to the podium to enthusiastic applause. He lifted a hand for silence. “Ben deserves as much credit as I do. He’s the one who found the project a home and the money to succeed. That’s the real reason there’s no crystal bowl; he didn’t want to waste any of our hard-earned funding on it.”
The audience chuckled.
�
�There’s another person here who deserves an imaginary crystal bowl. She’s the extraordinary woman who convinced me I could be an agent of change in my world.”
Julia’s eyes brimmed with tears as he swept his gaze over the crowd and locked it on her.
“Julia Castillo, would you please stand up and give these nice folks a wave?” he said, another smile flashing across his striking face.
“Now I’m going to kill him,” she said, rising and nodding to the crowd’s applause. She could hear murmurs of “famous artist” and “paints black horses” from the table next to her.
She sat down and Claire touched her shoulder. “He knows how much he owes you,” she murmured.
Julia shook her head. Paul was the extraordinary one; his work literally saved people’s lives.
He finished by explaining the mission of the Pro Bono Project with a passion that brought the crowd to their feet for a standing ovation.
Eric looked around, his eyes wide. “These people really liked his speech.”
“Hard to believe,” Tim said, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he clapped.
Claire elbowed her husband. “I won’t take you back to Milan if you don’t behave.”
He leaned down to whisper something in her ear. Julia saw a blush climb up her cheeks as she said, “All right, you can come with me.”
Paul wove between the tables, stopping to shake a hand here or kiss a cheek there, as he headed back in their direction.
“God, I love a man in a tux,” Julia murmured, her eyes following him.
“Tell me about it,” Claire said, running her hand up Tim’s lapel.
“That’s the only reason we wear ’em,” Tim said, capturing his wife’s hand and bringing it to his lips.
Paul strode up and fell into his chair, snaking his arm around Julia’s shoulders.
“You knocked them dead,” Julia said, giving his thigh a squeeze. “But I’m going to make you pay for bringing me into it.”
“I look forward to it,” he said, his eyes going hot. He blew out a breath and faced the rest of the table. “I told Ben no more speeches for a month.”
“You know you love having all those people hanging on your every word,” Jimmy said.
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