Millionaires' Destinies(202)
“It was a long time coming,” he said, then raked his hand through his hair.
“You’ve kissed me before,” she reminded him.
“I remember.”
“But not quite like that,” she admitted. “As if you wanted more.”
Because he couldn’t deny it, he said only, “I think you should probably go now.”
“Oh, no, you don’t. You don’t kiss me like that and then dismiss me as if nothing important happened,” she retorted.
He heard the exasperation in her voice and smiled. “Do you want to talk it to death?”
“Yes,” she said stubbornly. “That’s exactly what I want.”
To shut her up, he kissed her again. This time when he released her, she didn’t ask a single thing. Instead, she whirled around and headed for her car.
“Leaving?” he inquired.
She scowled at him. “Yes, I am.”
Ben thought he was home free, until she faced him.
“Come and see my gallery tonight. I mean really look at it,” she said in a tone that was less invitation than command. “You promised you would weeks ago and you’ve barely glanced around when you’ve been by there.”
It was true. He hadn’t wanted to look around. If he had, he might have been tempted to give her her way, to let her show his work.
“I’ll fix you dinner after,” she coaxed.
Ben regarded her doubtfully. “And spend the rest of the evening giving me your best sales pitch, I imagine. Or do you have more Christmas lights that need untangling?”
“Quite a few at the shop, as a matter of fact, but we’ll save those for another day. I’ve finished the decorating for this year, anyway. No, tonight will be all about you and me.” She grinned and held her fingers less than an inch apart. “And maybe just a tiny bit about your art.”
Ben gazed into her eyes. If he was going to get dragged deeper and deeper into this web she was spinning around him, then he had a far more intriguing way they could spend the evening, one that was every bit as long overdue as those heated kisses they’d just shared.
With Mack’s advice still ringing in his ears, he moved closer, then lifted his hand and swept a finger along her cheek. He felt the skin heat, felt her tremble. “Make love with me, instead,” he suggested, gazing into her eyes. “Then we’ll have something much more interesting to discuss.”
Color climbed into her cheeks, but her steady gaze never wavered. Then she politely held out her hand as if they were closing some very proper business arrangement.
“Deal,” she said, taking him by surprise.
Ben closed his hand around hers and felt the shock of the contact slam through him. Making love with this woman was going to be an extraordinary, life-altering experience. He should have been terrified by that knowledge, but he wasn’t. The desire that had been simmering ever since he’d kissed her the very first time reached a boil.
“You’re sure? You’re not going to lure me into town, then change your mind?”
She regarded him indignantly. “Dugans never back out on a business contract.”
“I’m not sure that business describes what we’re talking about,” Ben said wryly.
“It may not be directly business-related,” she agreed. “But a verbal contract is binding where I come from. I don’t take them lightly, no matter the context.”
“Well then, I guess we have ourselves an iron-clad contract, Kathleen.”
Eyes flashing, she met his gaze. “Assuming you Carltons have the same kind of integrity as the Dugans.”
Ben laughed. “Oh, sweetheart, I think in this instance you can most definitely count on me living up to my word. I’ve been waiting a very long time to complete this particular transaction.”
Chapter Twelve
Kathleen was more jittery than she had been on her first date way back in junior high school. She told herself it was the prospect of making love with Ben that had her so jumpy, but the truth was, she was almost as anxious about his opinion of the gallery. She harbored this faint hope that if he really, truly looked around he’d have confidence that she could showcase his work in a professional way that would guarantee he’d be treated seriously and respectfully by the art world.
She spent the entire afternoon polishing and dusting, adjusting the lighting on Boris’s paintings, rearranging the tastefully elegant Christmas decorations she’d completed only the day before.
When the doorbell jangled just before three, she nearly jumped out of her skin, but it was Melanie who came in, not Ben. She immediately noticed Kathleen’s undisguised disappointment.
“Expecting someone else?” Melanie asked, then grinned.