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  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.”

  He turned back slowly. “Who put you in such a temper?” he asked curiously. “Or was it left over from our encounter this morning?”

  “You merely exasperated me. My mother’s the only person who can infuriate me.”

  “Ah, I see,” Ben said, though he didn’t. His own family relationships were complex, but rarely drove him to the kind of rage Kathleen had obviously been feeling before his arrival. He met her gaze. “Want to get out of here before you start slicing up the paintings?”

  She gave him a hard look. “I thought you came to see the paintings.”

  “So did I, but apparently I came to see you,” he admitted candidly. “Have you had dinner?”

  “No. I figured food and all that acid churning in my stomach would be a bad combination.”

  “As a rule, you’d probably be right, but I think we can deal with that.”

  She regarded him curiously. “How?”

  “We’ll take a long walk and release all those happy endorphins. By the time we eat, you’ll be in a much more pleasant frame of mind.”

  “Unless you exasperate me,” she suggested, but there was a faint hint of amusement in her eyes.

  “I’ll try not to do that,” he assured her seriously.

  “Then dinner sounds good. I’ll turn off the lights and get my coat. I’ll just be a minute.” She hesitated, her gaze on him. “Unless you really do want to look around.”

  “Another time,” Ben told her.

  “Promise?”

  He smiled and tucked a finger under her chin, rubbed his thumb across the soft skin. “Promise.”

  The word was out, the commitment made before he could remind himself that he never made promises, never committed to anything.

  Ah, well, it was only a visit to an art gallery, he told himself. Where was the harm in committing to that?

  He gazed into Kathleen’s violet eyes and felt himself falling head-over-teakettle as Destiny might say. The shock of it left him thoroughly unsettled. If he’d been a lesser man, he’d have taken off the instant Kathleen went to get her coat, running like the emotional coward he was.

  Instead he stayed firmly in place, telling himself there was no danger here unless he allowed it. No danger at all.

  It was the first lie he’d told himself in years.

  “Okay,” Kathleen said as she sat across from Ben in a dark, candlelit restaurant that boasted some of the best seafood in town. “If we’re going to get through dinner without arguing, here’s what’s off-limits—art, Destiny and my mother.”

  Ben lifted his beer in a toast. “Sounds perfectly reasonable to me.” He gave her a disarming grin. “Think you can stick to it?”

  “Me?” she scoffed. “You’ll probably be the first to break the rules.”

  “Believe me, there was not a topic on your list that I’m interested in pursuing,” he assured her. “If you want to talk about your favorite scone recipes, it’s okay with me.”

  Kathleen grinned despite herself. “You want me to share my recipes with you?”

  “Not share them,” he said, giving her a look that made her toes curl. “I was thinking we could go to your place later and you could demonstrate.”

  “You got all the scones you’re getting from me this morning,” she assured him.

  “Too bad. I’m really partial to the old-fashioned kind with currants. A dozen of those and I might let you have your way with me.”

  Now, there was an image meant to rattle her. She gave him a hard look meant to bring him back into line, then spoiled it by asking, “Are we talking sex or are we talking about me getting to poke around in your studio to my heart’s content? No restrictions. No time limits.”

  “Which will be the best way to get you into the kitchen?”

  “The studio, of course.”

  “Because?”

  “Do you even have to ask? All that art just begging for an expert to appraise it.”

  He chuckled. “I win.”

  She stared at him blankly. “Win what?”

  “You were the first one to break the rules and bring up art,” he said.

  She studied him with a narrowed gaze. “Then that entire discussion was some sort of game to get me to trip myself up?”

  “Maybe.”

  “You’re a very devious man.”

  “I come by it naturally.”

  “Destiny, I presume,” she said, then groaned as she saw the trap. “Got me again.”

  He laughed. “Shall we move on?”

  “To?”

  He held her gaze and waited.

  “I am not bringing up my mother, dammit!”

  “Too late,” he said, clearly delighted with himself. “And since you brought her up, tell me why she had you so upset that you had to leave home to save the crockery.”

  “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.”

  He glanced up just then and groaned.

  “What?” Kathleen asked, then guessed, “She’s here, isn’t she?”

  “Just walked in,” Ben confirmed. “I imagine we can thank the maître d’ for that. I swear the man is on her payroll. He probably called her the instant we came through the door.”

  “Took her a while to get here, if he did.”

  “She probably hoped to catch us in a compromising position,” Ben said, then forced a smile as he stood up. “Destiny.” He gave her a kiss.

  Kathleen gave her a weak smile. “Nice to see you, Destiny.”

  Destiny beamed at them. “Please, don’t let me interrupt. I just came in to pick up a dinner to take back to the house. I didn’t feel much like cooking tonight.”

  “Why don’t you have them serve it here?” Kathleen said. “You can join us.”

  Even as she spoke, Ben was saying, “Don’t let us hold you up. Your food will get cold.”

  Destiny gave him a scolding look, then smiled happily at Kathleen. “I’d love to join you, if you’re sure you don’t mind.”

  Kathleen shot a fierce look at Ben. “Please stay.”

  Ben sighed heavily and relented. “Have a seat,” he said pulling out a chair for his aunt.

  “Thank you, darling. I must say I’m surprised to see the two of you here together.”

  “Surprised?” Ben asked skeptically. “I imagine you already knew we were here before you ever walked through the door. In fact, my guess is that it’s what got you over here with that flimsy excuse about ordering takeout.”

  Destiny’s gaze narrowed. “Are you suggesting I’m lying?”

  “Just a little fib,” he said. “You’re not all that great at it, you know. You should give it up.”

  Destiny turned to Kathleen. “See what I have to put up with. I get no respect from this man.”

  “Oh, you get plenty of respect,” Ben countered. “I’m just on to you.”

  Destiny sat back contentedly. “If you know why I’m here, that’ll save me the trouble of asking all those pesky questions. Just tell me how you two wound up here.”

  “It was an accident,” Ben claimed at once. “We bumped into each other.”

  “Alexandria is a long way from Middleburg. How did you just happen to be on the streets around here?” Destiny asked. “Were you coming to see me?”

  “No,” Ben said at once.

  Destiny chuckled. “I see. Then it was the thought of seafood that drew you?”

  “Something like that,” Ben said.

  Destiny regarded him smugly. “Something like that, indeed,” she said, a note of satisfaction in her voice.

  Kathleen stole a look at Ben. He did not look happy. In fact, judging from his expression, she figured their gooses were pretty much cooked. Destiny would never give up now.

  Chapter Six

  Ben spent two days kicking himself for choosing to take Kathleen to that particular restaurant for dinner. He knew perfectly well that Destiny had sources there. That was where Richard had met Melanie, and his aunt had had every detail of that meeting before they’d finished their first cups of coffee. Ben knew because she’d gloated about it.

  Since he should have guessed the risks, did that mean some part of him had wanted to be caught? Was he hoping in some totally perverse way that Destiny would keep meddling until both he and Kathleen were firmly on the hook?

  Surely not, especially after just a couple of brief encounters. He might be in lust with Kathleen, but it certainly didn’t go beyond that, and beyond that is just where Destiny wanted him to go. He didn’t believe for one single second that this was about art, not from his aunt’s perspective, anyway.

  But any relationship was doomed. He and Kathleen had discussed the situation and viewed it through clear eyes. It simply wasn’t meant to be. Period.

  That didn’t mean he was having much success in ignoring the attraction. Goodness knows he was tempted to drag her into his arms about every ten seconds, but that was another thing they’d agreed on. Sex was a bad idea.

  Not that they’d hold out forever, he concluded honestly, especially if they kept on seeing each other on one pretext or another. Proximity was about as dangerous for the two of them as holding a match near the wick on a stick of dynamite and simply hoping there wouldn’t be an explosion.

  He was still pondering the entire situation over his morning coffee when he looked up and spotted Richard coming up the front steps. First Mack, now Richard. His brothers were apparently determined to get an unprecedented amount of enjoyment out of watching him squirm.

  Richard rang the bell, then used his key and came on in. No one in the whole damn family ever considered that he might be busy or might not want to see them, Ben thought gloomily. Maybe Middleburg hadn’t been quite far enough to move when he’d wanted solitude. Ohio might have been better. Or maybe Montana.
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  “You in here?” Richard called out.

  “If I weren’t, would you go away?” Ben replied, not even trying to hide his sarcasm.

  Richard strode into the dining room, picked up the pot of coffee and poured himself a cup without bothering to respond.

  “I’ll take your silence as a no,” Ben said. “If you’re here to make something out of the fact that I had dinner with Kathleen, don’t bother. I’m in no mood to discuss it.”

  Richard regarded him with seemingly genuine surprise. “You had dinner with Kathleen? When was that? You certainly didn’t waste any time, did you? I thought you were made of tougher stuff than that.”

  “Very funny,” Ben said, then frowned at his brother. “You mean Destiny didn’t tell you? I thought she’d announce it to the wire services.”

  “Nope, and apparently she didn’t see fit to tip off her favorite gossip columnist, either,” Richard said with an exaggerated shudder. “Be grateful for small favors.”

  “I’m not feeling especially grateful,” Ben told his big brother. “Okay then, let’s change the subject. Why are you out here on a weekday morning, if not to gloat?”

  “I needed a sounding board,” Richard said.

  His tone was so serious, his expression so gloomy, that Ben stared at him in shock.

  “Is Melanie okay?” he asked at once. “There’s nothing wrong with the baby, is there?”

  “Aside from being annoyed with me for hovering, Melanie’s perfectly fine. So is the baby,” Richard said. “This is about business.”

  “And you came to me?” Ben asked, astonished. “Why not Mack? Or Destiny?”

  “I didn’t go to Mack because he’s out of town,” he admitted with typical candor. “And I didn’t want to discuss this with Destiny, because the last time I brought up this particular subject, she got really weird on me.”

  “Then I was third choice? That’s a relief,” Ben said. “I thought the business had to be close to collapse if you were desperate enough to seek advice from me.”

  “Actually, in this instance, you really were first choice. You know Destiny better than Mack or I do.”

  Ben groaned at the frequently-made claim. “That’s ridiculous and you know it.”