“Since I don’t know what a Villar is, they won’t mean much to me.”
“The Villar is the blouse she wore to dinner at our house, an original creation by an artist named Reuben Villar.”
Tim’s eyes took on the focused look that meant he was exploring his prodigious memory. “The thing that looked like a bunch of triangles sewn together?”
“You are impressive.” Claire frowned. “Julia asked me to be her agent.”
“I’m not surprised. You believe in her work.”
“She’s a top-selling artist. A lot of people believe in her work.”
“They believe in selling her work. Your belief is at a whole different level. She needs that kind of support right now.” He pushed himself upright, shifting her to the cushions beside him.
Claire chewed on her lip. “Maybe, but I can’t agree in good conscience. The price of her paintings could go into the stratosphere with the right dealer to promote them. Let’s face it, Sanctuary is not the center of the art universe, and I’m not going to leave you to jaunt around the world cultivating patrons.”
“Well, I always wanted to do some traveling that didn’t involve reading papers at scientific conferences. You can cultivate and I’ll sightsee.”
“What about your practice? You’re a busy man, even though you didn’t look like it when I walked in.”
“Maybe too busy now that I’ve got a beautiful wife to come home to.” His kiss was brief but filled with intent. “I’ve been thinking about hiring another vet to take on some of the workload.” Tim ran one hand up her arm. “You were right on the verge of a high-powered career in connoisseurship when you married me. Representing Julia is the perfect way to get back to that.”
Claire climbed onto his lap and twined her arms around his neck. “Hire the vet and let’s go traveling together. I don’t care about my former career.”
“But I do. You live here in Sanctuary because of me.”
“That’s right. Because you make me deliriously happy and I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” She threaded her fingers into his hair and tried to bring his head down to hers for another kiss.
He resisted, and when Tim resisted there was no budging him. “The feeling’s mutual, but I think you should consider Julia’s proposition.”
“All right, I’ll consider it. After you take my clothes off and have mind-blowing sex with me.”
All the resistance went right out of him.
Chapter 19
JULIA DROPPED HER shopping bags and flopped backward onto her bed at the inn. “I had no idea shopping could be so exhausting,” she said to the ceiling.
Carlos would have a coronary when he saw the bill. Her personal credit card was maxed out, so she’d had to put it on her business card, the one she used for art supplies. Her uncle paid that bill so he could keep track of the tax deductions, or something like that. Now she would have to take it over, along with all the other business tasks. She found herself looking forward to learning the ins and outs of that side of her art career.
Although they’d chatted nonstop on their shopping expedition, she and Claire had not discussed Julia’s need for an agent or Paul’s brother, both topics she was burning with curiosity about.
Her cell phone shrilled. Groaning at the effort of finding her purse somewhere among the heap of bags on the floor at her feet, she rolled off the bed and knelt to retrieve it.
“Am I interrupting your painting?” Paul’s voice came through the line.
Guilt struck at Julia. “I wish. I haven’t painted a stroke all day and I promised Claire something for the auction.” She plopped back down on the bed. “All I’ve done since I left your office is shop.”
“You’re complaining?”
“You’d be amazed at what hard work it is.”
“So are you too tired to go for a spin on my Harley?”
Julia sucked in a breath. “Your Harley is a motorcycle, right?” She was playing for time. Riding a motorcycle was another one of those things a person with epilepsy was strongly advised to avoid. Since the opportunity had never come up before, it hadn’t been hard to follow the doctors’ restriction. Now she found she wanted to try it. With Paul.
“It’s not just a motorcycle. It’s a 2002 Harley-Davidson VRSCA V-Rod.”
The pride in his voice overcame the last of her qualms. “I just got my second wind. Bring on the Harley hot rod!”
“V-Rod. I’ll be there in ten. Wear jeans and boots, if you have them.”
Galvanized by the prospect of the new experience, Julia scurried around the room, hanging up her new purchases and changing into her jeans and green cowboy boots. Biker chicks were supposed to wear black leather, but she had to make do with a black silk T-shirt under a gray hoodie. When she glanced in the mirror, she burst out laughing. She looked about as tough as a marshmallow.