He considered retreating into the hallway to put some distance between them, but figured she might need moral support. He also wanted to get a better idea of what the situation between her and her uncle was like.
So he forced himself to concentrate on her voice rather than her body as she justified her absence to Carlos, her tone becoming more and more tentative and apologetic. Her shoulders began to slump inward, and he could tell her resolve was weakening. She stammered out something before turning to look at him. Paul gave her the calm, supportive smile he used to encourage faltering witnesses in court, and he saw her spine straighten as she turned back to the window.
“No, Tío,” she said, her voice clear and firm. “I’ll call you in a couple of days to let you know when I’m coming home. Good-bye. Te quiero.”
She stood staring ahead for a long moment before she turned away from the window and gave him a wavering smile.
“It went pretty well,” she said, her voice hitching midsentence. “He was giving me another half an hour before he called the police.”
Paul tried to project humorous sympathy. “So he bought into the artistic well needing to be refilled?”
“More or less, since he already thinks I’m having a nervous breakdown because I’m painting such ugly pictures.”
He could see the shimmer of pain in her eyes and wanted to curse her uncle for his cruelty. Before he could make a better decision, he drew her into what was meant to be a comforting hug, murmuring adjectives into her sun-warmed hair. “Your paintings are magnificent. Bold. Powerful. Even a total philistine like me wants one.”
As his palm slid over the skin bared by the scooped back of her blouse, he sucked in a breath. She felt as silky and smooth as he had anticipated.
She tilted her forehead in so it grazed his shoulder, and spoke into his chest. “Maybe I am going crazy. It’s not normal to pick up and leave without a word to everyone who cares about you.”
It was hard to think straight as he felt the soft press of her breasts against him when she gulped in air. He got a grip on his reeling brain. “That’s your uncle trying to make you feel guilty. You needed a second opinion. That’s a perfectly rational response to your situation.”
“I needed to take sanctuary in Sanctuary,” she said, leaning back into his arms to look up at him, her green eyes huge against her pale skin. One tear had painted a glistening path down her cheek. “You see how messed up I am? I can’t tell whether I’m crazy or not. Maybe you’re right about the artistic temperament.”
She looked so small and bereft; he lowered his head to kiss her. He meant to comfort and distract her, but as soon as he touched the heady combination of softness and salt on her lips, he forgot his original purpose. She ran her fingers over his face as though she were trying to learn it by feel alone while her mouth turned hot under his. He buried his hands in her glorious hair, tilting her head so he could angle his mouth harder against hers. She opened to him on a moan, and the tiny sound snapped him out of his insanity. He jerked his head up and gripped her shoulders to set her away from him.
She licked her swollen lips, her eyes glazed with confusion.
“I’m sorry,” he said, dragging one hand through his hair. “I was trying to take your mind off your uncle.”
“You did.” Her voice was husky. “Really well.”
“Good. Glad it worked.” He felt like an ass. “Let’s talk about what you need for your stay here.”
“Um, okay,” she said, then cleared her throat of a lingering rasp. “We should.” She walked over to the desk to seize a pen and pad of paper before propping her hip against the windowsill opposite him. He understood the message. She wanted him to stay at arm’s length. “Is there an art-supply store in town?” she asked.
His brain was still filled with the taste of her. “There must be one. We have a lot of artists in the area.” He tried to think of what store they patronized, but all that came to him was the image of her red hair spread across a pillow, in particular the one on his bed. He scrubbed his palm against the back of his neck. “Just write down what you want, and I’ll figure out where you can get it.”
Once he could think straight again.
Julia looked down at the paper to hide the smile curving her lips. If the former mayor couldn’t think of a place to buy her supplies, he must be somewhat shaken by their kiss. She was. It had started out as an offer and acceptance of comfort, but it had ignited into something entirely different.
She felt the heat climbing up her cheeks as she remembered she had actually moaned out loud.