Country Roads (36 page)

She took him over the edge with her. She felt the pump of his climax and heard her own name echo against the walls of the garage as he shouted it.

For a long moment, he stood like that, holding her lifted against him as his erection softened and the aftershocks trembled through her. Then he slipped out of her and lowered her hips so her knees hung over the hood and her heels grazed the bumper.

He blew out a long breath and brought his gaze to hers. His eyes glinted in the dim light with some emotion she couldn’t read. He bent at the waist and laid his forearms on either side of her, bringing his forehead down to rest on her shoulder. “Julia.” His voice vibrated into her bones.

“Yes?”

“Just Julia. There’s no room for anything else right now.”

She lay still, listening to Paul’s breathing slow, a delicious lassitude wrapping itself around her body. Her heart was singing at his words. If this didn’t make him ask her to stay, nothing would.

Her stomach growled so loudly she jumped.

Paul lifted his head. “When was the last time you ate?”

Julia thought back but couldn’t remember any meal after the corn muffin she’d had for breakfast. “This morning?”

He stood and pulled her up to a sitting position. She put her hand to her head as a wave of dizziness swept over her.

“Let’s get you fed before you faint on me,” Paul said, concern shadowing his face. He gathered their clothes in one hand before he swept her off the car and against his side with the other.

He swung open the interior door and walked her through it. Embarrassment flared as her dizziness faded. “You can let go. It was just sitting up so suddenly that made me woozy.”

He loosened his hold and watched her carefully before he nodded. “You can use the downstairs bathroom to wash up while I rustle up something to eat. It’s through the hall on the right.” He held out her clothing.

Julia followed his directions, closing the door and pulling on her clothes. As she turned to the sink, she caught sight of herself in the mirror and shrieked.

Paul must have sprinted because he was at the door almost immediately. “What is it? I’m coming in.” He eased the door open.

“My hair!” she wailed, holding up the mass of red tangles in both fists. “Please tell me you have a brush.”

He braced his hand on the doorjamb and leaned his forehead against it. “You scared the bejesus out of me.”

“Sorry, but it will take me hours to undo this.” She tried to work her fingers through a snarl but it refused to budge.

“In that case, we’ll work on it later. Together.”

“I don’t want you having to look at this across the dinner table,” Julia said. “It’ll give you indigestion.”

“Sweetheart, you give me indigestion in so many other ways. Your hair is the least of my worries.” A smile glinted in his eyes.
“Try not to look in the mirror while you’re washing so I don’t have another heart attack.” He gave her an affectionate pat on the behind before he turned and left, closing the door behind him.

A few minutes later, Julia was perched on a high stool at the kitchen counter, nibbling on cheese and chopping three colors of peppers for some Italian concoction Paul was whipping up. “I had no idea you were a gourmet cook,” she said.

“It’s that or eat out every night.”

“I’m pretty sure the single ladies in town would be delighted to bring dinner over for you.”

He picked up a bottle of olive oil, flipped it end over end in the air, and caught it in his other hand before he twisted off the cap and poured it in a frying pan. “That happened a few times. I didn’t mind the food; it was the strings attached.”

“I can imagine. Even if you’re not Rodney Loudermilk, you’re still pretty eligible.”

He chuckled as he walked over to ruffle her hair before he scooped up the pepper bits. “The ones looking for a commitment weren’t the worst.”

“What do you mean?”

“A couple of them were married.”

“Woo-hoo!” Julia cackled. “They just wanted you for your body. Not that I blame them.”

Paul didn’t comment as he scattered the vegetables in the sizzling oil and shook the pan.

They bantered back and forth through the rest of the food preparation. Julia knew they were deliberately keeping it light and superficial, but every time they came near each other, there was always a touch. It kept the physical awareness between them simmering as hotly as his frying pan.

Finally the chicken Marsala was ready, and they sat at a table topped with rich green and brown tiles. Julia had set out thick golden
plates with borders that picked up the green of the table. Paul clearly cared about the aesthetics of his home, which pleased her.

He shook out a deep-green napkin and laid it on his lap. “
Mangia!
” he commanded.

“
¡Buen provecho!
” she said, repeating her family’s traditional comment as she dug into the deliciously scented food. Putting the first bite of chicken in her mouth, she closed her eyes at the burst of flavors on her tongue.

“Hunger is the best sauce,” he said dryly. She noticed, however, that he was devouring his own food with gusto. After a few minutes of silence as they enjoyed their meal, he put his utensils down. “Your Spanish reminded me of the other bombshell you dropped this afternoon. Are you ready for your uncle?”

Surprise made her swallow badly, and she had to gulp a few swallows of water before she could speak. She should have known Paul wouldn’t forget that. “I know exactly what I’m going to do with him.” She’d been considering it while she’d painted. “After lunch, I’m going to take him to the gallery to see how Claire will show my
Night Mares
, and then I’m going to take him to my riding lesson.”

Paul gave a short bark of laughter. “I see you don’t intend to ease him into the situation.”

“You can’t ease Carlos. He’s like a bull in a ring, and I’m not going to let him run over me this time.”

“What about lunch? What do you plan to say to him then?”

That was the one vulnerability in her scheme. She had to fire him before she could demonstrate her strength and independence. It would be worse if she tried to delay the lunch; he was very set on regular mealtimes. She cut another piece of chicken, put it in her mouth, chewed, and swallowed before she said, “I’ll have to break the news to him that he’s fired. He can’t come to the show thinking he’s still in charge of my career.”

“Would you like me to join you? Maybe I can wave a red flag so he charges at me instead.”

She dropped her fork and reached across the table to cover his hand with hers. “Always ready to come to my rescue.” However, she wasn’t going to risk Carlos revealing her secret in an effort to bring Paul around to his point of view. She let go of Paul’s hand and sat back. “I have to face him myself.”

Paul pleated his napkin into an elaborate geometric shape and stood it up beside his plate. “Julia, you’re in a tough situation, and I’m an experienced mediator. Let me help you.”

She wanted to accept his offer so badly, it made her ache. Her eyes brimmed as she balanced the comfort of having Paul by her side against the danger of Carlos spilling her secret. She imagined the look on Paul’s face when he heard about her epilepsy, and her decision was made. Shaking her head, she picked up her fork again. She wasn’t going to risk him pitying her. “It’s like riding Darkside. No one can do it for me.”

She saw Paul’s jaw tighten, but he said nothing as he picked up a hunk of bread and ripped off a piece to dip in the Marsala sauce. She lifted her water glass and drank, watching him over the rim. He tore off another slice of bread with more ferocity than was necessary. His reaction made her happy. He might be annoyed, but he also was engaged with her again. It was much better than this afternoon’s attitude of laissez-faire. “I like it when you get mad at me.”

He looked up from his plate. His eyebrows were still drawn together in a frown but one corner of his mouth kicked upward. “Does that mean you go out of your way to provoke me?”

“No, that comes naturally,” she said, going back to her chicken.

He snorted in agreement. “Why do you like it? Make-up sex?”

Chewing, she shook her head. He leaned back in his chair, twirling his knife as he waited for her to swallow. “It shows you care,” she said.

The glinting amusement in his eyes died, and he put the knife down. “Trust me, sweetheart, I care.”

Two hours later Julia snuggled herself up against Paul in his big sleigh bed. “I’ve never had sex like this before.”

“I’m not sure what you mean by that.”

She felt a blush creep up her neck to her cheeks. “I mean this intense, this, I don’t know,
sexy
.” She realized she sounded like an idiot so she made it worse. “You’ve probably had lots of great sex, but I haven’t.”

“I’ve never had sex like this, either.”

She lifted her head to look at him. “Really? This is unusual for you too?”

“God help me, yes,” he said, and pulled her closer so she couldn’t see his expression. He held her so tightly she could barely breathe, but she didn’t complain, understanding that whatever emotion had him in its grip was powerful. Some primitive part of her reveled in being able to affect him so strongly. She could feel the quiver of tension in his arms, hear the deep breaths he was drawing in and expelling as he fought for control.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her lips brushing his skin.

His arms relaxed so she could breathe. “I’ve got an armful of gorgeous, naked woman. What could be wrong?”

“For a lawyer, you’re a pretty bad liar.”

“After two orgasms, you’re going to insult me and my profession? I call that ungrateful.”

“I call it the truth.” She knew it wouldn’t do any good to push him. He would just slide past any question he didn’t want to answer with a joke and a smile. Besides, she didn’t want to ruin what might be their last night together.

She thought she’d pushed too hard when he shifted her gently away from him and got out of bed. “I’ll be right back,” he said, disappearing into his bathroom.

Julia frowned when he returned with a wooden-handled brush. “Is that for something kinky?”

“It’s for your hair,” he said, stacking two pillows against the backboard before he slid into the bed beside her. “I promised I’d help you untangle it.”

“Oh right,” she said, the little clutch of anxiety dispelled. “I think it’s hopeless.”

“I have very good hands.” He flexed his long fingers.

“No argument with that.”

He settled her so her head rested on the quilt covering his abdomen and her hair spread upward over his chest. “I’ll try not to yank too hard.”

“I’ll brace myself.” In fact, all she felt was a deliciously sensuous tingle skimming over her scalp as his deft fingers sifted through the strands of her hair. Her eyelids drifted closed. “Mmmmmm. Feels so good.”

“You’re enjoying having your hair pulled?”

“It’s like a massage, only better because my hair will look good at the end.”

Paul chuckled as he worked out a knot in the mass of red. He spread the disentangled strands over his palm and smoothed them with the brush, admiring the glint of gold among the auburn. Once it was glistening like silk, he moved it away from the still-snarled part.

Between knots, he indulged himself by letting his gaze trace the bare curve of Julia’s spine down to where the quilt draped over
her hips. The weight of her head pressed comfortably on his midsection while her bare shoulder brushed his hip. Contentment washed through him like the warm water of a Caribbean island. It was a sensation he wasn’t accustomed to.

“Mmmmm,” she purred again.

Maybe after she left, he should get himself a cat. He’d heard they could induce something close to this mood in other people. He was dubious, though, since not even other women had ever made him feel like this before.

She sat up abruptly, jerking the snarl he’d been working on out of his hands. “Ouch!” she yelped as she clutched the quilt to her chest with one hand and rubbed her scalp with the other.

“You have to warn me when you’re going to move. I had my fingers woven into a tangle.”

“I figured that out.”

She looked cute and disgruntled with half her hair flowing over her shoulder like a satin curtain while the other half resembled a poorly constructed bird’s nest. A smile lifted his lips.