Country Roads(60)

Paul shook his head. “That will help repair your personal relationship, but you need to separate your family from your work.”

“How do I tell him that?”

He sat back. “I’ll tell him. One thing lawyers are good at is delivering news people might not want to hear.”

“No!” she snapped. “That’s how I got in this situation to begin with. I let other people take over the things I didn’t want to deal with.” She sat up straighter. “If I’m going to fire him as my agent, the news has to come from me.”

“If?”

“All right, when.” She fidgeted with her water bottle. “I don’t know how to find another agent.”

“Claire would be able to help with that.”

She felt a little jolt of hope. “Do you think Claire would be my agent?”

“Ask her.”

“What if she doesn’t want to do it?”

“She’ll say no and suggest someone else.”

Julia sighed. “It sounds so simple when you say it.”

“Don’t mistake simple for easy. What you have to do will be tough, but it will put your career on the professional footing it deserves. More important, it will remove a significant source of trouble between you and a person you love.”

“You’re a smart lawyer, Paul Taggart,” she said, reaching across the table to touch the back of his hand.

He immediately flipped his hand to clasp hers, his warm grip sending waves of comfort through her. “Just experienced. In my opinion, you and your uncle have a good chance of repairing your relationship because you’re handling it sooner rather than later. Some folks let these situations go on until the anger and resentment have built a wall too high and thick to knock down.”

“Or the falling debris crushes them underneath it.” Julia heard voices beyond the closed office door, reminding her that Paul had real clients who needed his attention. “I’ve taken up enough of your workday.”

He trapped her hand between both of his. “I want to make sure you’re comfortable with what we’ve discussed.”

“But you have another appointment. I can hear them outside.”

“That’s why I have Verna.” He locked his eyes on her face. “How do you feel about this?”

Her fingers tightened around his. “Like I’m about to jump off a cliff into deep water. But I’ve been letting other people tell me what I should do for too long. Fear forges heavy-duty chains.”

“Fear?” His eyebrows drew together. “What are you afraid of?”

Lulled by the honesty of their connection, she’d forgotten he didn’t know about her epilepsy. She cast around for an explanation that would satisfy him. “Fear of the unknown, fear of taking a risk, fear of upsetting my family.”

It sounded plausible to her, but she could tell Paul wasn’t buying it. He continued to search her face, his gaze seeming to bore into her brain in search of the truth she was hiding from him. For a moment she was tempted to confess, but she thought of how that would change their relationship, how he would think of her as someone less. She almost shook her head in a refusal to suffer that. Instead she tried to inject a limpid sincerity into her expression as she met his eyes.

His frown deepened, but he let her get away with it. “You have to break some eggs to make an omelet,” he said, but she sensed the platitude concealed his skepticism and his questing mind was going to keep at the problem until he solved it…or she left town. If she could keep him at bay until then, it would be enough.

There was a burst of laughter from the reception room, and Julia stood up, bringing Paul with her. “The natives are getting restless.”

He stepped around the table and pulled her into his arms. “The natives can wait until I’m sure you’re all right,” he said, using his thumbs to tilt her head back so he could see her face.

The worry in his eyes nearly undid her. She reached up to cup his cheek.

“I’ll call you tonight,” he said, turning to kiss her palm with a heat that made promises about what they’d do after he called.

“And send me your bill,” she said, dashing out of the office before he could respond.



“Lunch,” Verna said, pointing to a brown paper bag on her desk as Paul said good-bye to his last morning client.

“What did you surprise me with today?” he asked.

“Tammy’s steak salad with truffle-oil dressing and a side of sweet potato fries.”

“Since when did Tammy get so fancy she uses truffle oil?” Paul asked, as he peered into the bag.

“She said a customer brought it to her as a gift and she’s gotten real fond of it. Can’t abide the stuff myself, but I figured you’d like it.” Verna stopped typing. “That little artist girl seems right sweet.”