“Go ahead,” Ben said, defeated.
Struggling to figure out what the devil had gone so wildly wrong, Ben turned back to Kathleen. “I thought you wanted to do a showing. Isn’t that what the last past few months have been about?”
She hauled off and slugged him. “You are such an idiot,” she said, then stomped past him and went inside to watch as the driver unloaded the last of the paintings.
Ben followed, rubbing his stinging jaw. As soon as they were alone, he asked, “Did I get it wrong? You don’t want to do a show?”
“Of course I do, but not like this. Not if it’s some sort of weird trade-off for sex,” she said furiously. “Or, just as bad, a way to buy yourself a little peace of mind and get me out of your life, now that you’ve satisfied that itch I stirred in you.”
To his shame, he could see exactly how she could leap to such a tawdry conclusion. He’d never told her how he felt, never admitted that he’d come to trust her…that he loved her. How could he, when he was terrified by the admission?
He could see from the flash of fury in her eyes that if he didn’t find the words, he was going to lose her. Besides, what difference did the words make, really? The feeling was there, in his heart, every time he looked at her. It was too late to stop that. There was no way to take it back, to protect himself. He’d only deluded himself into thinking that sending those paintings would put an end to things.
He remembered the very recent conversation with his brothers and forced himself to keep his eye on the only goal that really mattered. Then he drew in a deep breath and looked into her eyes.
“What if they were a wedding gift, from me to you?” he asked, watching closely for her reaction.
She blinked rapidly. “What?”
He grinned at her confusion, at the hint of hope that burned in her eyes. “I’m trying to propose here and making a mess of it. I should have asked Destiny to write a proper speech for me.”
“I think Destiny’s been involved a little too much in this already,” she responded. She stepped close, rested a gentle hand against his still-burning cheek. Her eyes were soft and misty. “You’re doing fine on your own. A few little words, Ben. That’s all I need to hear.”
“The pictures are yours?”
She frowned at his teasing. “Not even close.”
“I trust you with my art, with my life.”
She nodded. “Better.”
He took a deep breath. “I love you, Kathleen. I want to marry you, raise a family with you, wake up with you every morning till we’re both old and gray.”
“Bingo.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed him. “Was that so hard?”
“Yes,” he told her honestly. “It scares the hell out of me.”
“It’ll get easier,” she promised. “You’re going to have a lifetime to practice.”
A lifetime. The word echoed in his head and he waited for the panic to follow. Instead he was filled with incomparable joy. He’d finally gotten it right. About damn time. He wouldn’t mind staying right here and sealing this deal with something far more intimate than a kiss, but there was someplace the two of them needed to be.
“Much as I’d like to hang around here and keep on practicing, there’s a little matter of a baby who’s about to arrive,” he told her. “If this baby is anything like its daddy, it’s bound to be impatient, now that it’s decided the time is right.”
She stared at him in shock. “Melanie and Richard’s baby?”
He nodded.
“That’s why he and Mack went tearing out of here just as I arrived! I thought they just didn’t want to stick around for the inevitable fireworks,” she said, then scowled at him. “Why didn’t you say something sooner? You need to be at the hospital.”
“I’ve barely gotten a word in edgewise since you got here,” he reminded her. “Well, except for the proposal. I did fit that in. Anyway, we need to be there. You’re going to be part of this family now.”
A slow smile spread across her face. “How soon?”
He chuckled. “Are you in a hurry for some reason?”
“I want to be your wife when I open this show in my gallery.” At his shocked look, she added, “You don’t get to take them back now, buster. You gave them to me as a wedding present, and I don’t want any other woman thinking she can poach on the sexiest artist in the United States.”
“And you want to do this show when?” he asked, amused by her eagerness.
“January,” she said at once. “February at the latest.”