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Millionaires' Destinies(157)

By:Sherryl Woods


“It’s what I enjoy doing,” Ben confirmed. “It’s not who I am.”

“No ambition at all?”

He shook his head. “Sorry. None. Richard and Mack have more than enough for one family.”

Kathleen set down her fork and regarded him with consternation. “How do you define yourself, if not as an artist?”

“A reclusive artist,” Ben corrected, quoting the usual media description. “Why do I need to pin a label on myself?”

She seemed taken aback by that. “I don’t suppose you do.”

“How do you define who you are?” he asked.

“I own an art gallery. A very prestigious art gallery, in fact,” she said with pride.

Ben studied her intently. He wondered if she had any idea how telling it was that she saw herself only in terms of what she did, not as a woman with any sort of hopes and dreams. A part of him wanted to unravel that particular puzzle and discover what had made her choose ambition over any sort of personal connection.

Because right here and now, surrounded by people absorbed in their own conversations, it was safe enough to ask, he gazed into her amazing eyes. “No man in your life?”

A shadow flitted across her face. “None.”

“Why is that?”

Eyes flashing, she met his gaze. “Is there a woman in yours?”

Ben laughed. “Touché.”

“Which isn’t an answer, is it?”

“No, there is no woman in my life,” he said, waiting for the twinge of guilt that usually accompanied that admission.

“Why not?” she asked, proving she was better at the game than he was.

“Because the only one who ever mattered died,” he said quietly.

Sympathy immediately filled her eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“I’m surprised Destiny didn’t fill you in,” he said, glancing in his aunt’s direction. Though Destiny was engaged in conversation with Richard, it was obvious she was keeping one ear attuned to what was going on between him and Kathleen. She gave him a quizzical look.

“Nothing,” Ben said for her benefit. He almost regretted letting the conversation veer away from the safe topic of art. But since Kathleen had sidestepped his question as neatly as he’d initially avoided hers, he went back to it. “Why is there no special man in your life?”

“I was married once. It didn’t work out.”

There was a story there. He could see it in her face, hear it in the sudden tension in her voice. “Was it so awful you decided never to try it again?”

“Worse,” she said succinctly. She met his gaze. “We were doing better when we were sticking to art.”

Ben laughed. “Yes, we were, weren’t we? I was just thinking the same thing, though I imagine there are those who think all the small talk is just avoidance.”

“Avoidance?”

“Two people dancing around what really matters.”

Kathleen flushed. “I’m perfectly willing to avoid delving into my personal life. How about you?”

“Suits me,” he said easily, though a part of him was filled with regret. “Want to debate about the talent of the Impressionists versus the Modernists?”

She frowned. “Not especially.”

“Know anything about politics?”

“Not much.”

“Environmental issues?”

“I think global warming is a real risk,” she said at once.

“Good for you. Anything else?”

She held up a forkful of turkey. “The food’s delicious.”

“I was thinking more in terms of another environmental issue,” he teased.

“Sorry. You’re fresh out of luck. I could argue the merits of free-range turkey over the frozen kind,” she suggested cheerfully. “Everyone says free-range is healthier, but they’re just as dead, so how healthy is that?”

Ben chuckled. “Now there’s a hot-button topic, if ever I heard one.”

“You don’t have to be sarcastic,” she said. “I told you I have a one-track mind.”

“And it’s totally focused on art,” Ben said. “I think I get that.” He studied her thoughtfully. “This man you were married to, was he an artist?”

She stiffened visibly. “As a matter of fact, he was.”

Ben should have taken comfort in that. If an artist had hurt Kathleen so badly that she wasn’t the least bit interested in marriage, then he should be safe enough from all of Destiny’s clever machinations. She’d miscalculated this time. Oddly, though, he didn’t feel nearly as relieved as he should. In fact, he felt a powerful urge to go find this man who’d hurt Kathleen and wring his neck.