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“Exactly,” Ben said, sounding relieved.
“I should go. Please tell Destiny that I had a wonderful time. I’m sure I’ll see her soon at the gallery.”
“Tomorrow morning would be my guess,” Ben said wryly.
Kathleen laughed despite herself. “Mine, too.”
“Will you tell her about the kiss?”
“Heavens, no. Will you?”
“Are you crazy? Not a chance.”
Kathleen looked into his eyes and made a swift decision. “I’m still coming back out here, you know. You haven’t scared me off.”
He gave her a vaguely chagrined look that told her she’d hit the mark. That kiss had been deliberate, after all, not the wicked impulse he’d wanted her to believe.
He shrugged. “It was worth a shot.”
She laughed at having caught him. “I knew it. I knew that was what the kiss was about.”
He gave her a long, lingering look that made her toes curl.
“Not entirely,” he said, then grinned. “That should give you something to think about before you get into your car and head out this way again.”
It was a dare, no question about it. If only he’d known Kathleen better, he’d have realized that it was a point of honor with her never to resist a challenge. She’d survived her past, and when she’d come through it, she’d vowed never to let another soul intimidate her or get the upper hand. She didn’t intend to let Ben Carlton—despite his sexy looks, killer smile and devastating kisses—be the exception.
* * *
After that potent kiss, Ben was surprised and oddly disgruntled when Kathleen simply grabbed her coat and walked out without even waiting to say goodbye to Destiny or to Mack and Beth.
That was what he’d wanted, wasn’t it? He’d wanted to scare her off. He should have felt nothing but relief that his plan had worked and his aunt’s plotting hadn’t succeeded, but he felt a little miffed, instead. That wasn’t a good sign. All of the Carlton men loved a challenge.
Which probably meant that Destiny had advised Kathleen to go with her patented “always leave ’em wanting more” maxim. Alone with Destiny now, he gave his aunt a grim look.
“What are you up to?” he asked as she sat on the sofa, her feet tucked under her. With her soft cloud of brown hair and bright, clear brown eyes, she looked to be little more than a girl, though he knew perfectly well she was fifty-three.
Destiny sipped her brandy and regarded him without the slightest hint of guilt. “You’re too suspicious, Ben. Why would I be up to anything?”
“Because it’s what you do. You meddle. Ever since you decided Richard, Mack and I were old enough to settle down, you’ve systematically worked to make it happen.”
“Of course I have. I love you. What’s wrong with wanting to see you happy?”
“I am happy.”
“You’re alone. Ever since Graciela died, you’ve been terribly unhappy and guilt-ridden. It’s time to put that behind you, Ben. What happened was not your fault.”
“I’m not discussing Graciela,” he said tightly.
“That’s the problem,” Destiny said, undaunted for once by his refusal to talk about what had happened. “You’ve never talked about her, and I think perhaps it’s time you did. She wasn’t the paragon of virtue you’ve built her up to be, Ben. That much has to be clear, even to you.”
“Destiny, don’t go there,” Ben warned. He knew that his family had never held a high opinion of Graciela, but he’d refused to listen then, and he was equally adamant about not listening now, even with all of the facts still burning a graphic image in his head. He’d seen her with that polo player, dammit. He didn’t need to be reminded of what were only rumors and speculation to everyone else.
“I will go there,” Destiny said fiercely. “She was hardly a saint.”
“Dammit, Destiny—”
She cut him off with a look that made her disapproval of his language plain. “Leaving her was the right thing to do, Ben. You’re not responsible that she stormed off that night far too upset and drunk to be driving, and crashed her car into a tree. That was her doing, hers,” she repeated emphatically. “Not yours.”
Ben felt the words slamming into him, carrying him back to a place he didn’t want to go, to a night he would never forget.
The argument had been heated, far more volatile than any that had gone before. He’d caught Graciela cheating on him that afternoon, found her with a neighboring Brazilian polo player, but she’d tried to explain away what he’d seen as if there could possibly be an innocent explanation.
In the past he would have accepted the lies, because it was easier, but he’d reached the end of his rope. Loving her and forgiving her had worn him down, the cycle unending despite all the promises that she would change, that she would be faithful. He’d been foolish enough to believe them at first. He had loved her unconditionally and for a time had thought that accepting her flaws was a part of that.
Then he’d realized that what he felt wasn’t love, but an obsessive need not to lose someone important again. He’d seen the truth with blinding clarity that afternoon. He’d realized finally that he’d never really had her anyway.
On that fateful night he’d told her to get out and he’d meant it. Her hold on him had finally snapped.
“You’ll change your mind,” she’d said confidently, slurring her words, her expression smug, beautiful even in her drunken state.
“Not this time,” he’d told her coldly. “It’s over, Graciela. I’ve had enough.”
If that had been it, he could have moved on with his life, buried the repeated humiliations in the past and kept his heart hopeful that someone else would come along. But Graciela hadn’t even made it out to the main highway when she’d crashed. He’d heard that awful sound and run outside, only to find the mangled wreckage, her body broken and bloody and trapped inside as the first flames had licked toward the gasoline spilling across the drive.
Frantic, he’d tried to drag her to safety, knowing even as he struggled that it was too late, that nothing he could do would save her.
From that moment on, as the car exploded into a fiery inferno, Ben had shut down emotionally. It had stirred the images that had haunted him from childhood of his parents’ plane going down into the side of a mountain on a foggy night. He’d been so young back then that he’d barely understood what had happened. Everyone was careful to tiptoe around the details of that crash, so he’d filled in the blanks for himself, envisioning the kind of unbearable horrors that only a child with an active imagination could spin.
Now he shuddered and tried to push from his mind all of those memories, forever intertwined even though they’d occurred years apart.
“There’s a huge difference between being alone and being lonely,” he pointed out quietly. “No one should recognize that better than you. I don’t see you trying to snag a husband now that your nest is empty, Destiny.”
She frowned at the challenge. “It doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like to have companionship if the right man came along.”
“There,” he said triumphantly. “The right man, and nothing less.”
“Well, of course.” She gave him a sad smile. “I had that extraordinary experience once. I know what it’s like. I won’t accept anything less.”
“Neither will I.”
“But you won’t find it, if you don’t get out and look,” she scolded.
“So you’ve decided to bring the likely candidate to my doorstep?”
She shrugged. “Sue me.” Then she gave him a sly look. “It worked, didn’t it? You’re intrigued by Kathleen. I saw it in your eyes. You were watching her.”
“Maybe I’d just like to paint her,” he said, unwilling to admit to any more. Kathleen had been right, if Destiny knew about that kiss, he’d never hear the end of it. Who knew what she might do to capitalize on the impact of that kiss? Throwing them together at every opportunity would be the least of it.
Destiny chuckled. “You don’t do portraits. If you are genuinely interested in painting her, I find that very telling, don’t you?”
He refused to give her an inch. She would seize it and run with it for a mile. “Not particularly.”
“Look at your choice of subjects, Benjamin,” she said impatiently. “You’re more comfortable with nature than you are with people. Ever since you lost your parents, you don’t trust yourself to truly connect with anyone, much less to fall in love. Even Graciela was safe, because she was incapable of real love. You knew that from the start, and it suited you. You’re afraid we’ll all leave you.”
“I fell in love with Graciela,” he insisted.
“I don’t believe that for a minute, but let’s say it’s true. In the end, she only reinforced the pain,” Destiny said.
They’d been through this before. Ben had copped to it, so he saw no need to belabor the point. “Yes,” he said tersely.
“I haven’t left. Richard and Mack haven’t left. And you’re beginning to let yourself care for their wives, too. They’re here for the long haul. I’ll wager that you’ll lose your heart to the children when they come along, as well.”
“More than likely,” he agreed. Each time he felt Melanie’s baby kick, it set off an odd tug of longing inside him. He envied his brother the joy that awaited him, no question about it.
“Then why not open yourself to the possibility that there might be someone special out there for you as well?”
“I don’t need anyone,” he declared flatly.
“We all need someone. If I haven’t taught you that, then I’ve failed you miserably.”
“You don’t seem to need anyone.”
“But I have memories,” she said sadly. “Wonderful memories.”
“And those keep you warm at night?”
“They bring me peace,” she said. “Life is for living, darling. Never forget that.”
“Unless fate steps in,” he said. “Tricky thing, fate. You never quite know when it’s going to bite you in the butt.”
She sighed, her expression suddenly nostalgic. “No, you don’t, do you?”
Ben seized on the rare hint of melancholy in her voice. “You’re thinking about what you gave up to come and take care of us, aren’t you?” he said.
“You say that as if I have regrets. It wasn’t a sacrifice,” she insisted, just as she had on so many past occasions. “I did what I had to do. You boys have brought nothing but joy into my life.”
“But nothing to equal the man you left behind,” he pressed, wishing for once she would share that part of her life. If he had his hang-ups, they were nothing next to the secrets that Destiny clung to and kept hidden from them.
“Water under the bridge,” she insisted. “I have no regrets, and that’s the point. People move forward, take risks, let people in. Holing up and protecting your heart doesn’t keep you safe. It keeps you lonely.” She gave him one of her trademark penetrating, steady looks. “I could give you Kathleen’s phone number, if you like.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t had it tattooed to my hand while I slept.”
“Tattoos are too tacky,” she teased. “Besides, if I happen to be wrong just this once, I’d hate for you to have to explain it away the rest of your life.”
Ben grinned despite his exasperation. “I love you, you know that, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she said, her expression totally serene. “And in the end you’ll do what I expect. You always do.”
Sadly, she had that right. He could call Kathleen Dugan in the morning or he could hold out against the inevitable. In the end, though, he would see her again. Kiss her again.
He just wanted to make sure it was on his own terms.
4 (#ulink_90cf13e6-4787-5669-ae5e-d1c3ee8287d4)
By noon on Friday, Kathleen’s gallery was packed with customers who’d read a review of Boris’s work in the morning paper. As Destiny had expected, the critic had raved about his bold style and predicted great things. Collectors who’d left without buying or even expressing much interest at the opening were now eagerly lining up to pay the premium prices Kathleen had put on tags the instant she’d seen the review. At this rate, the show would be a sell-out before the end of the day.
Which meant she would have to find another artist for the schedule, she realized as an image of Ben’s painting slipped into her head. It would be awfully convenient if she could talk him into an immediate showing, but the likelihood of that was somewhere between slim and none. Winning him over was going to take time, patience and persistence, something she didn’t have at the moment.
She’d just written up her last sale of the morning and drawn a deep breath at the prospect of a midday lull, when Destiny breezed into the gallery, resplendent in a trim red coat with a fake-fur collar and a matching hat.
“Good morning, Kathleen,” she said, her gaze going to the walls, where red Sold stickers were on more than half of the price tags. Her expression immediately brightened. “Didn’t I tell you that a favorable review would turn the tide for Boris? The show is obviously a resounding success, after all.”
“It is,” Kathleen said happily. “Now if only I had something to replace it, once the buyers come back to claim their pieces. I’ve been able to hold most of them off for the next week, but after that these walls could be bare.” She gave Destiny a sly look. “I don’t suppose you’d like to help me out?”
“You saw for yourself how difficult Ben can be. I doubt you’ll be able to talk him into a show quickly enough,” Destiny said.
It was obvious to Kathleen that Destiny was deliberately misunderstanding her question. “I agree, but there is another Carlton artist who’s quite good.” She met Destiny’s gaze evenly. “And I think she owes me one, don’t you?”
Destiny returned her gaze without so much as a flicker of an eyelash. “Why on earth would I owe you anything, my dear?”
“You got me out to your nephew’s house under false pretenses, didn’t you?”
“False pretenses?” Destiny echoed blankly. “I don’t understand.”
The woman was good, no doubt about it. She almost sounded convincing, and she’d managed to look downright wounded.
“It was never about Ben’s art, was it?” Kathleen pressed. “You simply wanted me to meet him.”
“And now you have,” Destiny said brightly, as if attaching no significance to that meeting besides the obvious contact with an artist. “I’m sure in time you can persuade him to let you sell his paintings.”
“How do I know there are more paintings?” Kathleen asked. “I never got to see them.”
Destiny didn’t look a bit uncomfortable at that reminder. “Yes, well, the timing seemed to be a bit off, after all. Perhaps in a few days or a few weeks things will settle down a bit and you can go back out there. I’d recommend waiting until after the first of the year.”
“Nearly six weeks? My, my. Ben must be mad as hell at your scheming,” Kathleen guessed.
Destiny waved off the suggestion. “He’ll get over it. Just give him a little time.”
“Which I don’t have. I need something new and exciting to promote before Christmas.” She gave Destiny another piercing look. “A few pieces by Destiny Carlton would be a huge draw before the holidays. We could do a lovely reception.”
“Absolutely not,” Destiny said flatly. “I no longer show my work.”
“Just like someone else in the family,” Kathleen scoffed. “Why not? I know you’re good, Destiny. You’ve let me see your paintings.”
“Painting was something I did professionally years ago. Now I merely dabble.”
“The way Ben claims to dabble?”
