“Oh?”
“If I wind up papering those walls, sweetheart, you won’t be sipping tea. You’ll be right there next to me.”
* * *
If he had a hundred years, Ben was pretty confident he wouldn’t be able to explain what had made him ask Kathleen to join him in going to see Destiny. Oh, sure, maybe he’d had some vague notion that Destiny would be more inclined to open up to another woman, but it wasn’t as if Kathleen were a trusted confidante. Melanie or Beth might have been better suited to the task.
No, he’d acted on impulse, something he never did, not since he’d been involved with Graciela, who’d taken impulsive behavior to an art form. Now he was usually thorough and methodical about just about everything, measuring words and actions, because he couldn’t forget the last time he’d made an impulsive decision, demanded that Graciela leave his home immediately, and she had died because of it.
But despite his misgivings about the invitation to Kathleen for tonight, he hadn’t called and canceled. It was yet another instance of making a commitment and then being too proud, if not too honorable or too stubborn, to break it. Kathleen already thought he was cowardly when it came to his art. He couldn’t give her another reason to believe that he was scared of her or his feelings for her.
He considered seeing Destiny first, then picking up Kathleen, but figured that would raise a whole lot of questions that he wouldn’t want to answer, as well. Instead, he drove through the horrendous Washington rush-hour traffic to the address Kathleen had given him. He was on her doorstep precisely at six. He reassured himself that it was absolutely not because he was anxious to see her again. He knew artists had a reputation for being forgetful, but punctuality was one of those lessons that had been ingrained in him by his parents even before Destiny had come along to reiterate it.
When Kathleen opened the door, his mouth gaped. He couldn’t help it. She’d taken his advice to wear old, comfortable clothes to heart, but few women could turn that particular sort of getup into a fashion statement. Kathleen did. The faded, low-slung hip-hugger jeans encased her slender legs like a glove and reminded him all too vividly just how long those exquisite legs were. She was wearing a bulky knit sweater that looked warm enough, except for the full two inches of bare skin it left exposed at her waist.
“Um,” he began, then swallowed hard. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Aren’t you going to be cold?”
She grinned. “I was thinking of wearing a coat over this.”
He nodded, still trying to get the blood that had rushed to other parts of his anatomy to flow back to his brain. “I meant indoors.”
Her grin spread. “Your aunt doesn’t have heat?”
Ben sighed and gave up. He wasn’t going to get her into something that covered that enticing skin without point-blank asking her to change, and he would not do that. She’d only demand to know why, just to hear him admit that he could hardly keep his hands or his eyes off her. He’d simply have to suffer and keep a tight rein on his hormones.
“Let’s get going, then.”
Kathleen gave him a knowing smirk. “I’ll get my coat,” she said cheerfully.
On the drive to Destiny’s, Ben finally managed to untangle his tongue long enough to explain their mission to get at the truth about Destiny and this William Harcourt who was interfering in Carlton Industries business.
“What makes you think I can get her to say anything, when Richard couldn’t?”
“You’re a woman. Maybe she’ll confide in you, woman-to-woman.”
“With you sitting there?”
“I’ll make some excuse and hide out for a little bit,” he said, no doubt sounding a little too eager.
Kathleen looked at him with amusement. “That will certainly make her less suspicious.”
He had a hunch she was right. “Do you have a better suggestion?”
“Ask her directly. Even if she doesn’t answer, you should be able to read her expression. And I’ll be the one to make myself scarce while you do it. Women are always having to run to the powder room. She won’t think a thing about it.”
“I suppose,” he said gloomily. He was no good at this kind of stuff. Subterfuge and subtlety weren’t in his nature, but Richard had already warned him that the direct approach hadn’t gotten him a thing.
“Trust me, Ben. It’s the only way,” Kathleen insisted. “A woman like your aunt appreciates someone who’s straightforward. Trying to slip something past her won’t work. Or if by chance it does, she’ll be furious with you for having tricked her into saying something she didn’t intend to reveal. That’s the last thing you want.”
“Okay, okay,” he grumbled. “I know you’re right. I just hate doing what I’m always accusing her of doing, meddling in something that’s none of my business.”
“Tell her that, too,” Kathleen suggested. “She’ll identify with your position. Heck, maybe it will even give her a nudge to back off with her own meddling.”
“I think we can eliminate that possibility. I’m not in the miracle business,” Ben responded.
He pulled up in front of the town house where he’d grown up. In some ways it still felt more like home than the farm, but at the moment he was dreading going inside. He glanced at Kathleen.
“I guess it’s showtime,” he said unenthusiastically.
“Don’t sound like you expect to be shot on sight,” she said, regarding him with obvious amusement. “This is Destiny. The mere fact that I’m with you ought to buy you a certain amount of good will.”
It ought to, Ben agreed. But he had a hunch that Destiny was going to be more furious than smug tonight. He also had a gut feeling that he and Kathleen were going to be back out on the front steps in record time. In fact, given what
