“Doesn’t have to be,” she mumbled sleepily.
“You’d leave the gallery closed and spend the whole day right here?” he asked skeptically. She’d always struck him as a businesswoman, first and foremost. She’d never abandon potential customers to seek her own pleasure.
She rolled over and blinked at him. “In a heartbeat, as long as you’ll stay with me,” she said without hesitation, proving him wrong.
Now that raised an interesting quandary, Ben decided. It left him with a dangerous choice. He opted for emotional safety, as always. “Wish I could, but I can’t.”
“I don’t see why. After all, you keep telling me you’re not a professional artist, so it can’t be that you have to rush back to your studio to complete a painting.”
“No, it’s not that,” he agreed, almost regretting that he couldn’t claim that as an easy excuse, one she would readily understand. “But if I don’t show my face around Destiny’s this morning, she’s liable to come over here pounding on the door to see for herself what we’ve been up to.”
“Your own fault. She could only do that because you blabbed that we had a date,” Kathleen reminded him. “Why you let her in on that little tidbit is beyond me.”
“I didn’t,” he said. “I merely told her I was coming into town. Then Mack called and asked me point-blank if I was seeing you. I made the mistake of admitting that we had a date. Foolishly, I thought he’d keep it to himself.”
“And now it’s costing you,” she concluded, sliding from the opposite side of the bed wrapped in a sheet. She frowned at the clock. “Serves you right that there’s not even time for me to bake you some muffins, if I’m expected to open the gallery right on time.”
He laughed. “I think I’ve proved that I’m interested in more than your baking. You can stop plying me with pastry now.”
She gave him an oddly sad look. “I like baking for you. You’re a very appreciative recipient.”
“Then by all means keep it up,” he told her, not even trying to hide his enthusiasm for the prospect of more delectable goodies appearing on his doorstep. “But just for today, I’ll be in charge of breakfast. I think I saw eggs in the refrigerator when I was in there looking for a snack for us in the middle of the night. I’ll have something ready by the time you come downstairs.”
She stared at him in shock. “You cook?”
“Adequately. I didn’t survive this long by waiting around for somebody to do it for me. Don’t expect much, though. Richard’s the real chef in the family.”
“Really?” she said, apparently finding that fascinating. “And Mack?”
“He can order takeout with the best of them,” Ben said, smiling. “It’s a good thing this family owns restaurants. He has every one of them on speed dial.”
Kathleen chuckled. “Poor Beth.”
“Oh, I think she figures she got a good deal. Mack has other attributes, to say the least. Besides, as much as Beth’s at the hospital and as unpredictable as her hours can be, takeout suits their lifestyle and Mack’s version is definitely top-of-the-line. There are no fast-food hamburgers on his menu.”
His gaze drifted to the curve of Kathleen’s bare back and his body stirred again. Once more he ignored the temptation to drag that sheet off her and haul her right back into this warm, comfortable bed.
“Scoot,” he said instead, reaching for his pants. “You’re giving me ideas, standing there looking all rumpled and sexy.”
“What ideas?” she taunted.
Rather than tell her what she expected to hear, he said, “I’d like to paint you looking exactly like that.”
His response surprised them both, but he realized it was true. He’d never painted people, but he wanted to paint Kathleen. He wondered what that said about how she’d managed to sneak into his heart.
Usually he stuck to nature, because of its beauty, but also because it was safe. To paint a portrait and do it well, he’d always known he’d have to get inside the person’s head, to understand their soul. He’d never wanted to risk it before, not even with Graciela. Maybe on some level he’d understood even then that if he dug too deep beneath Graciela’s polished surface, he wouldn’t like what he found.
But with Kathleen, he already knew he’d find a gentle, caring soul. He shook off the implications of that and grinned at her. “Now that’s a painting I could see hanging in your gallery,” he teased to lighten the mood.
“Not in my lifetime,” she retorted and scampered quickly into the bathroom and firmly shut the door behind her as if that would end the threat.
“I remember what you looked like,” he called after her. In fact, he suspected that her image was burned in his head forever.
Downstairs, he pushed that image aside and immersed himself in the comforting domestic tasks required to get breakfast on the table. Scrambled eggs, toast, jam, orange juice and coffee. Lots and lots of coffee. He was going to need it to face Destiny and what was bound to be a litany of intrusive questions. He could sneak back out to the farm without answering a one of them, but experience had taught him it was always better to do a preemptive strike.
When Kathleen finally breezed into the kitchen, she was wearing slim black pants and an exotic-looking tunic that shimmered with silver threads. It made him think of the night sky and moonlight, which of course made his pulse scramble all over again.
“What’s your day like?” he asked.
“In retail you never know,” she told him. “But this time of year, it’s usually busy, especially around lunchtime.” She gave him a sly look. “And this morning I have a tour to give.”
“Oh?”
She nodded. “It’s a very personal and private tour before the gallery officially opens. It was scheduled for last night, but somehow the tourist and I got sidetracked.”
“You want to do that this morning?” he asked, surprised.
