“I’ll need to replenish the minutes on my cell phone. And some clothes. A book to read. An ATM to get cash.” She kept talking as she scribbled.
“I only know one women’s clothing store, so you should talk to the receptionist here about the clothes. I ought to be able to handle the rest.” His fingers tapped at blinding speed against his thigh. “Why don’t I draw you a map? You can walk most places, or I’ll have the inn call the one taxi in town.”
“What if it’s already busy?”
“Someone will probably volunteer to give you a ride.”
“Are people really that nice here?”
He looked away for a split second. “It’s like anyplace else in the world. There are some kind, generous folks, and some folks who take advantage of them. It’s just easier to know which is which in a small town.”
“I don’t want to take advantage of anyone,” Julia said, horrified that she might be in the second category.
He made a gesture brushing her comment aside. “You’re not the kind of person I was talking about. You just need a little temporary help. Now, let’s get going on the map.”
She started to hold the tiny pad of paper out to him before she remembered the sketchpad she’d shoved in her duffel. “Wait, I have something better.” She dashed into the bedroom and rummaged around until she found it.
When she returned to the living room, he took the book out of her hand before sitting down on the sofa. He flipped it open to the first page, which was a study of a horse’s hoof, and whistled with admiration. “I feel like I shouldn’t use this paper for something as ordinary as a map.”
Julia dropped into the chair next to him. “It’s just doodles, sort of like the notes you might take on a legal case. If you turn to the back, there’s blank paper.”
He glanced up at her. “May I look at some of these first?”
“Sure.” Gratification washed through her that he was interested in her rough drawings, especially since he claimed not to like art.
He slowly turned the pages, asking her a question every now and then. When he reached the blank portion of the book, he set it down on his knees. “You can draw anything. I always thought artists sort of specialized, like you and your horses.”
She shrugged. “I went to art school, so I got exposed to all kinds of subjects and mediums.”
“So you really could paint my portrait and do a darned good job of it.” He tossed the pen spinning up into the air and caught it before he drew a few straight lines on the empty page. “All right, here’s Washington Street, our main drag.”
She watched his hands as he jotted down street names and marked the establishments on them to match the items on her list. He moved with an eye-catching speed and assurance. She began to sense the coiled energy he concealed under his smooth, composed facade.
“That should get the basics taken care of,” he said, holding out the pad. “If I pick you up at six thirty, does that give you enough time to collect what you need?”
She glanced at the antique clock on the mantel and nodded.
He pushed up from the couch. “Then I’ll leave you to settle in.”
She jumped up, wondering how to say good-bye to him. A handshake seemed too formal, while a hug seemed overly casual. And a kiss was too breathtakingly risky. She decided on the safety of formality. Holding out her hand, she said, “Thank you for rescuing me.”
He hesitated a split second before he took her hand. “Right. This is a professional relationship.” There was an undercurrent of irony in his voice.
“Oh, you mean the…” She waved her free hand in the direction of the window where he had kissed her. “That was just you being kind to a crying woman.”
His eyebrows rose, but he didn’t disagree with her. She felt a little pang of disappointment. Well, what did she expect him to say? “I’ve fallen madly in love with you at first sight”?
As her uncle would point out, that didn’t happen in the real world.
Chapter 6
BEFORE SETTING OUT on her expedition into town, Julia had taken one look at the claw-footed bathtub and banished the doctors’ warnings against baths to take a long, luxurious soak. Her bathroom at home didn’t have a tub, since showers were the safer means of bathing for her, so this was the height of indulgence, with a fillip of danger.
Walking the streets of Sanctuary had been another treat, its nineteenth-century storefronts offering a delightful parade of colors and textures. She soaked in as much visual pleasure as she could while she grabbed necessities such as cash, a replenished cell phone, and a book before jogging back to the inn.