Millionaires' Destinies(172)

“The story is far too long and boring,” she insisted, then smiled brightly. “And here’s our food. Isn’t that perfect timing?”

“Only if you think my memory is so short that I’ll forget about this by dessert,” he said mildly.

“I’m certainly counting on it,” she told him.

For several minutes silence fell as they ate. Usually Kathleen was comfortable with silence. She rarely felt a need to fill it with inane chatter, but being with Ben was different. Maybe it was the fear that if she didn’t initiate some innocuous topic, he would go right back to all the subjects that made her uncomfortable or caused conflict between them. She’d had all the conflict she could handle for one day. A quiet evening of pleasant conversation was what she wanted now. Ben was not the man she would have chosen for that, but he was here and, truthfully, they weren’t doing so badly so far.

She glanced across the table and noted that Ben didn’t seem to share the same fear that the silence would be filled with some disquieting topic. He seemed perfectly content to eat the excellent rockfish.

“Ben, what were you really doing in town this afternoon?” she asked eventually.

He looked vaguely startled by the question. “I told you. I came to see you.”

“But you didn’t know I’d be at the gallery,” she said.

“No. And if I’m being perfectly honest, a part of me hoped that you wouldn’t be.”

“Why?”

He met her gaze. “Because seeing you only complicates things.”

“How?”

“There’s something between us, some powerful pull. That kiss the other night proved that.” He paused and waited, apparently for some acknowledgment.

Hiding her surprise that he was willing to acknowledge that, Kathleen nodded.

“So we’re agreed on that much,” he said. “But unless I’m misreading the situation, you’re not much happier about that than I am.”

“Not much,” she conceded.

“And you want something from me that I’m not prepared to give,” he added.

“Your paintings.”

“Yes. So, where does that leave us?”

She sighed at the complexity of the situation. He’d pegged it, all right. Then she brightened. “That doesn’t mean we can’t have a friendly meal together from time to time, does it? This is going pretty well so far.”

He grinned. “So far,” he said agreeably. “But what happens when I take you home and want to go inside and make love to you?”

Kathleen had just taken a sip of her tea and nearly choked on it. She stared at him. “Are you serious?”

“Very serious,” he claimed, and there was nothing in his somber expression to suggest he was merely taunting her.

“Do you always want to sleep with someone you barely know?” she asked shakily.

“Never, as a matter of fact.”

The fact that she was an exception rattled her even more than his initial declaration. But could she believe him? She didn’t know him well enough to say if he was capable of a convenient lie or not. And Tim had been a smooth talker, too. Maybe it was some secondary gene in certain artists or maybe even in men in general. She reminded herself yet again that she needed to beware of anything that crossed Ben’s lips, any admission that seemed to come too easily.

“I don’t think it’s going to be an issue,” she said firmly, proud of the fact that she kept her voice perfectly steady. “Because the answer will be no.”

“Because you don’t want to?” he asked, his gaze searching hers. “Or because you do?”

“Doesn’t really matter, does it? No is still no.”

His lips quirked. “Unless it’s maybe.”

She frowned at that. “It most definitely isn’t maybe.”

He nodded slowly. “Okay then, friendly dinners are out because they could only lead to trouble. Any other ideas?”

Oddly, Kathleen desperately wanted to find a compromise. She was surprised by just how much she wanted to go on seeing Ben, whether he ever let her near his art or not. Not that she intended to give up on that, either.

“I’ll give it some thought,” she said eventually. “As soon as I come up with something, I’ll let you know.”

He gave her one of his most devastating smiles. “I’ll look forward to that.”

Still a little shaky from the impact of that smile, she studied him curiously. “Aren’t you scared that your aunt will get wind of this and gloat or, worse yet, take it as a sign that her meddling is working and try a whole new plot?”

“Oh, I think we can count on Destiny getting mixed up in this again, no matter what we do,” he said, sounding resigned. “Unfortunately, she doesn’t give up easily.”