Country Roads (49 page)

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.

One Year Later

T
HE 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.

“Since you were once our mayor, I’d think making speeches would be second nature to you,” Tim joined in.

“I liked your speech, Uncle Paul,” Eric said.

Paul’s face softened as he looked toward his nephew. “You did?”

“Yeah, it was short.”

Paul rocked back in his chair with a shout of laughter as the rest of the table guffawed. Once he stopped laughing he looked at his watch. “I’m officially off duty, and I have better things to
do than be abused by my nearest and dearest. You ready to go, sweetheart?”

Julia nodded and everyone called out their good-byes. Paul retrieved their helmets and her leather jacket from the coat check and soon they were roaring down the highway toward home, the silk of her evening trousers rippling in the wind. She snuggled up against him, enjoying the fine wool of his tux against her cheek.

She felt him slow and lean into a right turn off the road. Peering around his shoulder, she saw the gates of Healing Springs Stables lit by the bike’s headlight. Why in the world was Paul bringing her here at eleven o’clock at night?

He slowed down as they approached the barns, keeping the engine sound to a low grumble. He parked and cut the motor.

“What are we doing here?” Julia asked, as he helped her off the Harley.

“Visiting Darkside.” He put her helmet on the bike’s seat.

“At this hour?”

“He’s your horse. You can visit him anytime you want to.” He took her hand and started toward the stable. “Besides, I kept you in DC for two weeks straight. He needs more quality time with you.”

“These shoes were not made for walking anywhere but a luxury hotel,” she said, as she wobbled over the gravel on her four-inch heels.

“Up you go then.” He dropped her hand to scoop her off her feet.

She wound her arms around his neck. “Much better but I still want to know why we’re trespassing at Sharon’s.”

“You ask too many questions.” He stopped to lower his head and kiss her long and intensely. She subsided against his chest and let him take her wherever he wanted to without comment.

“Hey there, Darth.” Paul’s voice rumbled through his chest. He still referred to Darkside as the devil horse, but it had taken on
a certain tone of affection. He lowered Julia’s feet to the ground and steadied her.

The stable lights were dimmed for nighttime, but Darkside’s coat caught a gleam as he arched his neck over the stall door and whickered sleepily. “Hey, buddy,” she said, running her hand up to scratch behind his ears. “Sorry to wake you up.”

Willow’s head appeared over her stall door. “You too, Willow,” Julia said. She turned back to Paul. “Okay, now that we’ve wakened every horse in Sharon’s barn, what are we here for?”

He took a breath. “At the banquet, I called myself an agent of change, but the truth is you’re the real transformer. You’ve changed a lot of lives for the better, and none more than mine and this guy’s.” He smoothed a hand down Darkside’s nose. “So we came up with a joint proposal for you.”

Joy flooded her. “A proposal?”

Paul took both her hands in his and sank onto one knee on the pine bark, his expression solemn. “We both want you to marry me.”

“Yes, yes, oh yes!” She yanked at his hands to get him to stand up. She wanted to wrap herself around him so he could feel her happiness and love.

“You just made Darkside a very happy horse,” he said, before he gave her a kiss that seared her soul with its tenderness and passion.