Country Roads by Nancy Herkness Page B

years ago, I was eighteen and Carlos took over for Papi. He manages my career and a lot of other things for me. He’s a very successful accountant, so being my agent is kind of a labor of love. He’s a very honorable man and he treats me like his daughter,” she added to give her uncle his due.
    “That explains a lot.”
    “A lot of what?”
    He steered the sports car through a hairpin curve, its engine growling in low gear as they climbed the narrow mountain road. “Why you’ve been so sheltered. Three protective stepbrothers. An uncle who’s standing in for your parents.”
    She didn’t mention the most compelling reason for her family’s protectiveness. She wanted him to see her as whole and competent, not a fragile being who couldn’t be trusted to deal with the real world. “You know, it’s my own fault.”
    “What is?”
    “This situation. I just wanted to make art, so I let my uncle handle everything else.” Julia frowned as her lack of practical experience struck her. Her condition didn’t preclude her being involved with the business side of her career. She felt stupid and naive.
    “Are you afraid of your uncle?”
    Surprise made her glance at Paul. “You mean, physically afraid?”
    He nodded, his face tight with concern.
    “No. Absolutely not.” Her uncle’s weapons were more subtle but effective because she cared about him: a headshake of disappointment, a hurt smile, a gesture that said he only wanted to protect her. Just picturing him brought the lingering taste of failure back to her throat.
    “That relieves my mind,” Paul said.
    They rounded a shoulder of the mountain, and low-slanting sunlight splashed through the windshield, making her blink.
    “Look left and you’ll get a great view of the river,” Paul said.
    She shaded her eyes with her hand and let out a long “ah” of admiration. Ridges of mountains in varying shades of blue rolled away into the distance, their edges gilded by the low-lying sun. The river wound through the valley below, the water glowing like liquid gold. Her fingers itched for a brush and an array of paints. It would be a challenge to capture this moment of light, which changed even as she watched.
    And it would make her uncle happy since it was a landscape, not a terrifying black horse on an abstract background.
    She must have made an unhappy sound, because Paul took one hand off the wheel to give her shoulder a quick squeeze. “Does it remind you of home?”
    “A little, but I was just thinking about how I would convey the scene on canvas, and how happy it would make Carlos to have me paint something pretty.”
    “Don’t let him poison your pleasure in your work.”
    She glanced sideways at him. The bone structure of his face seemed to stand out because his jaw was clenched in anger. “Would you let me paint you?” she asked, as her eyes followed the shadows and angles revealed by his emotion.
    “What!” The car swerved almost imperceptibly.
    “I wasn’t kidding when I said you would make a great subject.”
    He laughed. “Would it tick off your uncle?”
    “No, I’d have to paint you nude to do that.” She had become so comfortable with him, she forgot to avoid sexual innuendos.
    “Now
that
I might agree to, depending on the setting.”
    She flushed as a sizzle of nerves and excitement surged through her. “I know, walking out of the river, water streaming off you.” She was beginning to see it in her mind’s eye. “You could have a fish in your hand, as though you’d just caught it, and…”
    “Not the setting I was hoping for.”
    “It could be a really big fish.”
    “I’m not much of a fisherman. I was thinking of an
indoor
setting.”
    She sucked in air on a tiny gasp at his implication.
    As she cast around for a sophisticated, woman-of-the-world sort of reply, he turned off the road between two stone posts and accelerated onto a paved but winding driveway, saying, “This is the kind of road the ’Vette is built