“But nothing to equal the man you left behind,” he pressed, wishing for once she would share that part of her life. If he had his hang-ups, they were nothing next to the secrets that Destiny clung to and kept hidden from them.
“Water under the bridge,” she insisted. “I have no regrets, and that’s the point. People move forward, take risks, let people in. Holing up and protecting your heart doesn’t keep you safe. It keeps you lonely.” She gave him one of her trademark penetrating, steady looks. “I could give you Kathleen’s phone number, if you like.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t had it tattooed to my hand while I slept.”
“Tattoos are too tacky,” she teased. “Besides, if I happen to be wrong just this once, I’d hate for you to have to explain it away the rest of your life.”
Ben grinned despite his exasperation. “I love you, you know that, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she said, her expression totally serene. “And in the end you’ll do what I expect. You always do.”
Sadly, she had that right. He could call Kathleen Dugan in the morning or he could hold out against the inevitable. In the end, though, he would see her again. Kiss her again.
He just wanted to make sure it was on his own terms.
4
By noon on Friday, Kathleen’s gallery was packed with customers who’d read a review of Boris’s work in the morning paper. As Destiny had expected, the critic had raved about his bold style and predicted great things. Collectors who’d left without buying or even expressing much interest at the opening were now eagerly lining up to pay the premium prices Kathleen had put on tags the instant she’d seen the review. At this rate, the show would be a sell-out before the end of the day.
Which meant she would have to find another artist for the schedule, she realized as an image of Ben’s painting slipped into her head. It would be awfully convenient if she could talk him into an immediate showing, but the likelihood of that was somewhere between slim and none. Winning him over was going to take time, patience and persistence, something she didn’t have at the moment.
She’d just written up her last sale of the morning and drawn a deep breath at the prospect of a midday lull, when Destiny breezed into the gallery, resplendent in a trim red coat with a fake-fur collar and a matching hat.
“Good morning, Kathleen,” she said, her gaze going to the walls, where red Sold stickers were on more than half of the price tags. Her expression immediately brightened. “Didn’t I tell you that a favorable review would turn the tide for Boris? The show is obviously a resounding success, after all.”
“It is,” Kathleen said happily. “Now if only I had something to replace it, once the buyers come back to claim their pieces. I’ve been able to hold most of them off for the next week, but after that these walls could be bare.” She gave Destiny a sly look. “I don’t suppose you’d like to help me out?”
“You saw for yourself how difficult Ben can be. I doubt you’ll be able to talk him into a show quickly enough,” Destiny said.
It was obvious to Kathleen that Destiny was deliberately misunderstanding her question. “I agree, but there is another Carlton artist who’s quite good.” She met Destiny’s gaze evenly. “And I think she owes me one, don’t you?”
Destiny returned her gaze without so much as a flicker of an eyelash. “Why on earth would I owe you anything, my dear?”
“You got me out to your nephew’s house under false pretenses, didn’t you?”
“False pretenses?” Destiny echoed blankly. “I don’t understand.”
The woman was good, no doubt about it. She almost sounded convincing, and she’d managed to look downright wounded.
“It was never about Ben’s art, was it?” Kathleen pressed. “You simply wanted me to meet him.”
“And now you have,” Destiny said brightly, as if attaching no significance to that meeting besides the obvious contact with an artist. “I’m sure in time you can persuade him to let you sell his paintings.”
“How do I know there are more paintings?” Kathleen asked. “I never got to see them.”
Destiny didn’t look a bit uncomfortable at that reminder. “Yes, well, the timing seemed to be a bit off, after all. Perhaps in a few days or a few weeks things will settle down a bit and you can go back out there. I’d recommend waiting until after the first of the year.”
“Nearly six weeks? My, my. Ben must be mad as hell at your scheming,” Kathleen guessed.
Destiny waved off the suggestion. “He’ll get over it. Just give him a little time.”
“Which I don’t have. I need something new and exciting to promote before Christmas.” She gave Destiny another piercing look. “A few pieces by Destiny Carlton would be a huge draw before the holidays. We could do a lovely reception.”
“Absolutely not,” Destiny said flatly. “I no longer show my work.”
“Just like someone else in the family,” Kathleen scoffed. “Why not? I know you’re good, Destiny. You’ve let me see your paintings.”
“Painting was something I did professionally years ago. Now I merely dabble.”
“The way Ben claims to dabble?”
“Ben’s a genius!” Destiny said fiercely. “Concentrate on winning him over, my dear, and forget about me.”
“Hard to do, when you’re here and he’s not.”
“He’ll come around in time. In the meantime, I’m sure you’ll find something wonderful for the gallery for the holiday season,” Destiny said. “Even at the last second, there are dozens of local artists who’d be thrilled by an invitation to show their works here. Ask one of them. They’ll accept. You’re very persuasive, after all.”
Kathleen gave her a wry look. “I don’t seem to be doing so well with you. Maybe all Carltons are immune to my charms.”
“Maybe you simply need to formulate a new strategy and try a little harder,” Destiny advised. Her expression turned thoughtful. “My nephew has a sweet tooth. Since you bake
