He thought of Julia sprawled on the counter of Plants ’N Pages. “Sweet might not be quite the word, but she’s a good person. Talented too.”
“She likes you.”
“And I like her.”
“Then why was she about ready to cry when she came out of your office?”
“She has some legal issues involving her family. It upsets her.”
Verna eyed him sternly. “That had better be the only reason.”
“Jesus, Verna, have I ever—”
“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain.” She raised a hand to silence any further objections. “No, you treat women real good, but that one’s got a sensitive skin, so you need to be extra careful. You don’t understand the effect you might have.”
“Why do I feel like that isn’t a compliment?” Paul swiped the bag off the desk and headed for his office.
“Oh, it’s a compliment, hon. You are one heck of a charmer, but I get the feeling she hasn’t met up with many of those in her life.”
Paul closed the door and frowned across the room. Verna didn’t usually comment on the women in his life, and he didn’t fool himself into thinking she didn’t know about them.
He sat down at his desk and took out the food containers, opening them automatically as he remembered Julia’s comment about the chains of fear. The emotion behind it had been too raw for him to believe her vague explanation. Yet her previous denial of any physical fear of her uncle had been genuine. He would bet on that. So she was hiding something else.
He speared a slice of steak out of the salad and put it in his mouth. “Nice work, Tammy,” he murmured as the smoky flavor of the truffle oil glided over his tongue. He went after another slice and chewed it as he considered how hard he should push Julia to reveal her secret.
She was his client, so he owed her his best advice, and he needed full disclosure to give that. She was his lover, so he wanted to help her, and he couldn’t without knowing what the problem was. However, she didn’t want to share it with him, so maybe he should leave it alone. After all, their relationship had a short expiration date. But if she left without resolving whatever she feared, he wouldn’t be able to offer any assistance.
He put down his fork. The thought of her absence ruined the exotic savor of the truffles. In fact, the sunlight streaming in through the window seemed to turn gray. Hell, they couldn’t even have a long-distance relationship, because he worked all week and couldn’t leave his brother on the weekends without breaking the promise Terri had asked of him: to keep Jimmy sober and away from her house. And with a mental apology to Claire, he knew there was no way someone of Julia’s caliber would stay in the artistic backwater of Sanctuary.
As the realities of his situation landed on him like a ton of bricks, he decided he might as well call Ben Serra and turn down the directorship of the Pro Bono Project. Better to kill the hope all at once, so he could settle back into his rut without thinking about the might-have-beens.
He pushed his lunch aside and scrolled through his e-mails, hunting for Serra’s telephone number.
His intercom buzzed. “Your brother’s on the line,” Verna said. “Says he’ll keep it short.”
Paul groaned. The last person he wanted to talk to right now was Jimmy. He picked up the telephone receiver. “Hey, Jimbo. What’s up?”
“Paulie, I’m real sorry about Saturday night.” Jimmy’s voice was pitched low, as though he didn’t want anyone to overhear him. “I should have called Adam, not you.”
Paul wasn’t in the mood to pull punches. “It’s not who you called, it’s when you called. Next time, call one of us before you start drinking.”
“Yeah, I know. It’s just I got thinking about how I kept you from taking that job, and it made me feel like a worthless shit.”
Paul tried to rub the oncoming headache away. “You’re not worthless, and I can tell you how I know that. Eric. You’ve got a great kid there, bro.”
“Not because of me.”
“I see you with him, and you are one hell of a good dad.”
“I don’t know.” Despite the demurral, Jimmy’s voice held a lilt of hope. “Maybe I’ve gotten better at the parenting thing.”
“You were never bad at it, Jimbo. You just had a big problem you let get in the way.”
There was silence. Paul waited to see if his brother would explode or just whine in self-justification. For once, Jimmy did neither. “You think I was a good dad back then?”
“When you were sober, yeah, I do.” It was true. From the day Eric was born, Jimmy had been crazy about his son, changing diapers, getting up for middle-of-the-night feedings, and beaming as he carried his baby around on his chest at social gatherings. Until he and his wife started having problems, and Jimmy tried to hide from them in a bottle.