Millionaires' Destinies(170)

“Let that be a lesson to you,” Kathleen muttered to herself, immediately thinking of Ben.

That was the difference between herself and her mother, she told herself staunchly. She wasn’t going to let any man defeat her. She’d get those paintings of his and maybe even a few more of those amazing kisses. She just had to be careful she didn’t lose her heart along the way.





Ben gave up any attempt at painting after Kathleen left on Sunday. If his feeble attempts on Saturday had been a disaster, anything he tried after seeing her again was bound to be worse. The fact that she was affecting his work irritated the daylights out of him, but he was a realist. When the muse was in turmoil, he might as well get away from the farm.

Going to see his family was completely out of the question. His unexpected arrival on any of their doorsteps would be welcomed, but it would also stir up a hornet’s nest of questions he didn’t want to answer. Mack was out of town with the team, anyway, and Richard was probably driving Melanie mad with his doting. As for Destiny, her home was absolutely the last place he could turn up.

Usually he would have been content with his own company, maybe a good book, a warm fire and some music, but he knew instinctively that none of that would soothe him today.

Maybe he’d go for a drive, stop in one of the restaurants in his old neighborhood and have a good meal. If that put him in proximity to Kathleen’s art gallery and gave him a chance to peek in the windows, well, that was nothing more than coincidence. Happenstance. Accidental.

Sure, and pigs flew, he thought darkly.

Still, once he was on the road, he headed unerringly toward Alexandria, cursing all the way at the traffic that didn’t even take a rest on Sundays anymore. What the hell was wrong with all these people, anyway? Surely they couldn’t all be suffering from the same sort of malaise that had gotten him out of the house. Wasn’t anybody content with their lives, anymore? Did everyone have to go shopping? He directed the last at the lineup of cars backed up in the turn lane to a mall.

By comparison, Old Town Alexandria was relatively quiet and peaceful. There were still cobblestone sidewalks here and there and an abundance of charm. The big chain stores hadn’t made many inroads here. He parked off King Street and got out to walk. If he stayed away from the street where the family town house was, there was little chance he’d run into his aunt.

Destiny was probably sitting in front of a fire with her feet tucked under her, a glass of wine at her side and some sort of needlework in hand. She’d recently taken up—and quit—crocheting and knitting. He suspected her attempts at cross-stitching wouldn’t last, either. Once she’d tried quilting and given up on that, he figured she might be ready to do some serious painting again. It was obvious to him that these other creative outlets were no match for the talent God had given her.

Ben turned a corner on a street near the Potomac River and stopped short. There it was right in front of him, Kathleen’s gallery. The bold, modern paintings in the window weren’t to his taste, but he could appreciate the technique and the use of color. He wondered what had drawn Kathleen to them. Was it the art or the artist?

A black-and-white photo of the man had been blown up, along with a brief biography, and placed on an easel between the two paintings. The man wasn’t handsome in the conventional sense. His expression was too fierce, his eyes too close-set. Shifty looking, Ben concluded. He scowled at the portrait, feeling a startling streak of jealousy slice through him.

Maybe if it hadn’t been for that, he would have ignored the light that was on in the back of the shop. Maybe he would have done the smart thing and crept away before getting caught lurking around outside Kathleen’s gallery like some lovesick kid.

Instead, he walked over to the door, tried it, then pounded on the door frame hard enough to rattle the glass panels.

When Kathleen emerged from the back, she looked as if she were mad enough to spit. Ben didn’t care. He wasn’t particularly happy himself.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded as she jerked open the door. “I’m closed.”

“I thought you were anxious for me to see the place,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets and avoiding her gaze. The impulse to drag her into his arms was almost impossible to resist. He wanted to feel her mouth under his again, wanted to taste her. Instead, he resorted to temper. “I can see that I came at a bad time, though. Forget it.”

He turned to go, only to hear her mutter an oath he wouldn’t have expected to cross such perfect lips. Oddly, it made him smile.

“Don’t go,” she said eventually. “You just caught me in a particularly foul mood. I wouldn’t even be here, except I was afraid if I stayed at home I’d start breaking things.”