Paul shoved a tall, thin man out of the way and caught Julia just before her head would have banged onto the floor.
“Julia!” Carlos pushed through the crowd and knelt on the other side of his niece’s limp body. He tried to take her out of Paul’s arms, but the younger man held on as he lowered her gently to the floor. Carlos pushed at his hands, saying, “She has—”
“Fainted,” Paul interrupted, giving Carlos a level stare before he lifted Julia’s head and slipped the folded leather jacket under it.
“No, she’s having a—”
“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?”