“I think you’re a good lover,” she said. “And a good man. Are you going to disagree with either of those?”
Her eyes were hazed with tears again, which made it hard for him to think straight. “I’ll take the fifth.”
“I’m capable of making my own decisions and living with the consequences,” she said. “It won’t ruin my life if our relationship doesn’t work out.”
But it would ruin his. Was he just being a coward?
She didn’t wait for a response. “I’m tired of everyone assuming I’m some fragile flower who has to be protected from the realities of life. If I never feel pain, how will I understand joy? How can I be honest as an artist if I go on living this overprotected half-life?” She scrambled off the bed, dragging the duvet with her and gesturing wildly with her free hand. “Hurt me, Paul. At least you’ll be treating me like an adult.”
Pushed beyond his limit, he snapped. “Did you ever consider it might hurt me?”
Her hand fluttered downward. “What?”
He swung his feet to the floor and stalked around the bed to look down at her. “I’m not made of stone. How do you think I’ll feel when you decide to leave?”
Her eyes were huge with shock. “But you’re so…so confident and…and popular. Even married women want to sleep with you.”
He just barely stopped himself from taking her shoulders and giving her a good shake. Instead he sat on the bed so their faces were nearly level. “Sweetheart, do you really have no idea how extraordinary you are?”
“I’m not,” she whispered, a strange, stricken look in her eyes.
“Yes, you are. And I’m not talking just about your artistic talent. I’m talking about the essential Julia.” He grazed a fingertip over the swell of her breast where her heart lay. “You are a breath of fresh air, a woman with grit and integrity. And you’re sexy as hell.” His smile went a little crooked, but he was trying to steer the discussion to safer ground for both of them. “Losing all that won’t be easy for me.”
She plunked down on the bed beside him. “I didn’t look at it that way. I mean, it never occurred to me that you would”—she waved her hand vaguely—“feel like that if we got involved and I left.” She twisted to look up at him. “That sounds selfish, but it’s more I don’t think of myself as being especially important in your life.”
If it had been any other woman, he would have suspected her of fishing for reassurance, but Julia didn’t fish. That she believed she meant nothing more to him than a passing fling nearly gutted him. The problem was if he told her the truth about how important she was to him, she would refuse to leave.
He dropped his hand to her thigh and gave it a squeeze. He thought about all those times he’d held onto his smiling mask during town council meetings and tried to convince himself this was no different. “You’re the first world-famous artist I’ve ever made love to,” he said, cringing inside at the caddish words, “so I’d say you were significant.”
He expected some indication he’d hurt her, but she just kept looking at him, her striking green eyes clear of tears or accusation. “We don’t have to stop seeing each other now, do we? Just because we had this conversation?”
“I—” He was nonplussed. He’d figured she would be either so angry or so distressed she would refuse to have anything further to do with him. As it dawned on him she was offering the precious gift of four more days in her company, a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. He intended to relish every minute he could with her. “No, we don’t have to stop. In fact, stopping sounds like a really bad idea.”
A look of relief skittered over her face. “Good, because I was afraid I’d messed up the rest of our time together.”
He grabbed her shoulders and fell backward on the bed, pulling her down with him as happiness coursed through his body. He was going to cram the next ninety-six hours as full as he could with memories of this incredible woman. He rolled them over, bracing his weight on his elbows as he lowered his head to kiss her.
Starting now.
Chapter 26
JULIA PULLED THE plug on the big tub and sloshed to her feet. After a long soak to take out some of the soreness from last night’s activities with Paul, she felt energized and ready to carry out her plan of action.
Grabbing a thick white towel from the brass rack, she stepped out onto the bath mat and buffed herself dry before heading to the bedroom to dress. She’d chosen her outfit carefully: the tailored beige trousers, narrow brown leather belt, and moss-green silk blouse said “serious businesswoman.” In a gesture of individuality, her cowboy boots peeked out from underneath the neat cuffs of her pants. She smoothed the hair Paul had so carefully and deliciously untangled into a tidy ponytail.