Richard had been clever with money and business. Mack was athletic. Ben had felt neither an interest in the family company nor in sports. Even when his parents were alive, he’d felt desperately alone, a sensitive misfit in a family of achievers. The day Destiny had handed him those paints, his aunt had given him a sense of pride and purpose. She’d told him that, like her, he brought another dimension to the well-respected family name and that he was never to dismiss the importance of what he could do that the others couldn’t. After that, it had been easier to take his brothers’ teasing and to dish out a fair amount of his own. He imagined he was going to be in for a ton of it this evening for missing his own party.
Having the holiday dinner at his place in the country had been Destiny’s idea. Ben didn’t entertain. He knew his way around a kitchen well enough to keep from starving, but certainly not well enough to foist what he cooked on to unsuspecting company. Destiny had dismissed every objection and arrived three days ago to take charge, bringing along the family’s longtime housekeeper to clean and to prepare the meal.
If anyone else had tried taking over his life that way, Ben would have rebelled, but he owed his aunt too much. Besides, she understood his need for solitude better than anyone. Ever since Graciela’s death, Ben had immersed himself in his art. The canvas and paints didn’t make judgments. They didn’t place blame. He could control them, as he couldn’t control his own thoughts or his own sense of guilt over Graciela’s accident on that awful night three years ago.
But if Destiny understood all that, she also seemed to know instinctively when he’d buried himself in his work for too long. That’s when she’d dream up some excuse to take him away from his studio and draw him back into the real world. Tonight’s holiday celebration was meant to be one of those occasions. Her one slipup had been not reminding him this morning that today was the day company was coming.
“Give me ten minutes,” he told her now. “I’ll clean up.”
“Too late for that. Melanie is pregnant and starving. She’ll eat the flower arrangement if we don’t offer an alternative soon. Besides, the company is beginning to wonder if we’ve just taken over some stranger’s house. They need to meet you. You’ll make up in charm what you lack in sartorial splendor.”
“I have paint on my clothes,” he protested, then gave her a hard look as what she’d said finally sank in. “Company? You mean besides Richard and Mack and their wives? Did you say anything about company when you badgered me into having Thanksgiving here?”
“I’m sure I did,” she said blithely.
She hadn’t, and they both knew it, which meant she was scheming about something more than relieving his solitude. When they reached the house, Ben immediately understood what she was up to.
“And, darling, this is Kathleen Dugan,” Destiny said, after introducing several other strangers who were part of the rag-tag group of people Destiny had collected because she knew they had no place else to spend the holiday. There was little question, judging from her tone, that this Kathleen was the pièce de résistance.
He gave his aunt a sharp look. Kathleen was young, beautiful and here alone, which suggested she was available. He’d known for some time now—since Mack’s recent wedding, in fact—that Destiny had targeted him for her next matchmaking scheme. Here was his proof—a woman with a fringe of black hair in a pixie cut that emphasized her cheekbones and her amazing violet eyes. There wasn’t an artist on earth who wouldn’t want to capture that interesting, angular face on canvas. Not that Ben ever did portraits, but even he was tempted to break his hard-and-fast rule. She was stunning in a red silk tunic that skimmed over a slender figure. She wore it over black pants and accented it with a necklace of chunky beads in gold and red. The look was elegant and just a touch avant-garde.
“Lovely to meet you,” Kathleen said with a soft smile that showed no hint of the awkwardness Ben was feeling. Clearly she hadn’t caught on to the scheme yet.
Ben nodded. He politely shook her hand, felt a startling jolt of awareness, then took another look into her eyes to see if she’d felt the same little zing. She showed no evidence of it, thank heavens.
“If you’ll excuse my totally inappropriate attire,” Ben said, quickly turning away from her and addressing the others, “I gather dinner is ready to be served.”
“We’ve time for another drink,” Destiny insisted, apparently no longer worried about the delayed meal. “Richard, bring your brother something. He can spend at least a few minutes socializing before we sit down to eat.”
Ben frowned at her. “I thought we were in a rush.”
“Only to drag you in here,” his very pregnant sister-in-law said as she came and linked an arm through his, drawing him out of the spotlight, even as she whispered conspiratorially, “Don’t you know that you’re the main attraction?”
He gave Melanie a sharp look. They’d formed a bond back when Richard had been fighting his attraction to her. Ben trusted her instincts. He wanted to hear her take on this gathering. “Oh?”
“You never come out of this lair of yours,” Melanie explained. “When Destiny invited us here, we figured something was up.”
“Oh?” he said again, waiting to see if she’d drawn the same conclusion
