Millionaires' Destinies

by Sherryl Woods

  And about love.

  Even though they walked at a very brisk pace, Kathleen didn’t think they were ever going to get to her house. Her whole body was virtually humming with anticipation, the sort of anticipation she’d never expected to experience again. Not even the icy December wind could chill the heat set off just by Ben’s gloved hand wrapped around her own. If he’d suggested slipping into an alley along the way, she might very well have agreed without a single reservation.

  Neither of them said much. It was as if words might break the spell that held them in its grip. She certainly didn’t want it broken. It had been much too long since she’d believed she had the power to make a man want her with the desperation and hunger she’d seen in Ben’s eyes, that she’d felt when his lips were on hers.

  As edgy as she was already, it wasn’t going to take much—a clever stroke, an intimate caress—to set off an explosion that would rock her. As impatient as she was for that to happen, she wanted to savor every second, wanted this delicious buildup to go on and on and on.

  Despite the simmering passion, there was also a niggling doubt. Ben had guessed it earlier and tried to put it to rest, but it wouldn’t go away. It was too entrenched. She didn’t believe for a moment that Ben wouldn’t satisfy her, but she was terrified of not satisfying him. He’d tried to reassure her that that wasn’t possible, but she knew it could happen.

  How many times had the heat built between herself and Tim, only to have her husband roll away from her, cursing about her ineptitude, blaming her for all the failures in their lovemaking? Of all the things Tim had done to demean her, that had been the worst. He’d struck at the core of her, all but said she wasn’t woman enough for him or for any man. And she’d believed him because she had absolutely no basis for comparison. Tim had been her first and only lover.

  And her last. She’d never let another relationship get this far, had rarely been on anything more than the most casual dates. Ben had lured her out of her comfort zone, perhaps because he’d barely even tried. Tonight had slipped up on her, catching her by surprise. She’d been so intent on one goal—getting those paintings—that she’d barely even realized what was right under her nose, an attraction that wouldn’t be denied.

  Given all that, it was amazing that she was here at all, walking hand in hand with a man who’d come to mean so much to her, risking a failure that could rip them apart before they’d even begun.

  She stumbled. Ben steadied her, then gazed into her eyes.

  “You okay?” he asked, his brow creased with worry.

  “Fine.”

  “About everything?”

  She kept her gaze steady, took heart from the concern and love shining in his eyes. “About everything,” she replied at last.

  And she was. It was going to be okay, because this was Ben, not Tim. Tim was over. She’d been brave enough to make sure of that, even if she hadn’t been strong enough to move on before now. But maybe that was the way it had been meant to be, not moving on until the timing and the man were absolutely right.

  When they got to her house, she fumbled with the key until Ben took it from her shaking hand and turned it in the lock, then stepped aside to let her enter.

  She was reaching for the light when he stilled her hand and solemnly shook his head.

  “There’s moonlight coming through the windows. I want to see you first in moonlight.”

  Her knees very nearly buckled at that. “Upstairs,” she said unsteadily. “There’s a skylight in my room.” It was a gift she’d given to herself, a way to see the stars at night, the ideal light for painting in the daytime, though until very recently she’d never thought it would serve that function again.

  “Perfect,” Ben said.

  She led the way up the carpeted stairs, then turned into her room which was, indeed, bathed in silvery moonlight. It was better than candlelight, she decided as she turned to face him.

  “Now what?” she asked, her voice still shaky.

  He grinned, taking the edge off her jitters. “Are you expecting me to give you five seconds to strip and meet me in the bed?” he asked.

  She smiled a little less nervously. “Given the way we rushed over here, it did occur to me.”

  “No way, sweetheart. We’re going to take this nice and slow.” He grinned slowly. “You can lose the coat and gloves, though.”

  Kathleen shed them where she stood, letting the coat slide to the floor before kicking it aside. She tossed the gloves in the general direction of a chair. Ben’s coat and gloves landed on top of them.

  “Do you want a glass of wine or something?” she asked.

  “You’re intoxicating enough for me. What about you? Will it help you to relax?” he asked, stepping behind her to knead her tensed shoulders. “Your muscles are tighter than a drum, Kathleen.”

  The warmth of his touch began to ease through her, releasing the tension. “I think you’re more effective than any wine could be,” she said.

  “Good to know.”

  Kathleen could almost hear the smile in his voice. “It wasn’t just idle flattery, Benjamin. You really are making this easy.”

  “Easy?” His hands stilled. “Are you really afraid, Kathleen?”

  “A little nervous,” she admitted, because there seemed no point in denying it. She wanted there to be honesty between them, not the lies and evasions that she’d attempted to keep her marriage bearable.

  His massage resumed, even gentler now. “Sweetheart, there’s no need to be scared of anything, least of all making love. We don’t have anywhere to go. There’s no rush, no timetable. Nothing is going to happen until you’re ready. You’re with me now. There’s no one else in the room. No ghosts, okay?”

  His patience almost made her weep. What had she ever done to deserve a man like this? Was Ben God’s reward for what she’d endured during the few brief months of her marriage? If so, she would spend the rest of her life on her knees thanking Him for His gift.

  “Would you kiss me?” she pleaded, needing the fire of his mouth on hers, his tongue tangling with hers. That would chase away the last of her fears. She knew it would.

  He turned her in his arms and took a long time simply gazing into her eyes before slowly covering her mouth with his own. It was a sweet, gentle kiss for about a heartbeat. Then the familiar hunger and need kicked in and Kathleen’s fears fled, just as she’d predicted. Instead, all she felt was the rising urgency, the powerful pull to have Ben’s hands all over her, teasing and tormenting until she was writhing beneath him.

  Now she was the impatient one, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, tugging at the buckle on his belt, reaching for taut, hot skin that felt totally masculine, totally alive beneath her fingers. The textures, the masculine scent inflamed her. She had something to prove…to him, to herself.

  “I guess slow and easy is out of the question,” Ben commented, laughing.

  “Yes,” she said, skimming her hand over his abdomen, reaching lower until she felt the hard, reassuring thrust of his arousal against her palm.

  It wasn’t a lack in her—had never been—she exulted, when she felt that solid evidence of her power to stir a man. She was enough woman for any man, for this man. It was a heady, exhilarating discovery. The last of the tormenting doubts from her marriage vanished. If nothing more came of this night, she could be grateful for that.

  But there was more. Ben wasn’t satisfied to let her do all of the exploration. His restless hands stroked and teased, first through the silky fabric of her dress, then against bare skin until her whole body was humming again, her flesh so sensitive that the slightest touch could make her soar.

  When her knees went weak, he scooped her up and placed her in the center of the bed, where she was bathed in moonlight. The look of awe and wonder in his eyes was something she knew she would cherish for years to come.

  “Do you have any idea what your body does to a man?” he asked. “Those beautiful breasts, those slender hips, those long, long legs? Yo
u’re incredible. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”

  His words filled her heart, but it was the reverent way he touched her that made her fall in love with him yet again. That touch chased away already fading memories of the past and gave her the future.

  “Come to me,” she said, unafraid.

  He knelt over her, his gaze warm, his smile gentle, and waited, giving her time, she knew, time to accept his body, time to yearn for him.

  “Really,” she said softly. “Come to me.”

  He kissed her then, stroked her everywhere, and when the fire was at its peak, when her blood was thrumming through her veins, he entered her with a sure, deep thrust that stole her breath.

  Again he waited, patient as ever, and only when her hips moved restlessly did he begin to move inside her, leading her to the top of an incredible precipice, then waiting for her yet again.

  And then, when her heart was pounding, her pulse racing and her whole body aching with the sweet torment of it, he carried her over the edge into magic, just as he’d promised he would.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ben lay in bed, Kathleen cradled in his arms, sunlight now spilling over them from that amazing skylight in her bedroom ceiling. He was filled with an astonishing range of sensations that he’d never expected to experience.

  Desire, of course. He hadn’t stopped wanting her for a single second all night long. No matter how many times they’d made love—and he’d lost count of that—he’d wanted more. He wished he could attribute that to the long, dry spell in his love life, but that wasn’t it and he knew it. It was all about Kathleen and what she did to scramble his senses.

  Then there was the raging possessiveness she inspired. He wanted her to be his and his alone, even though he knew that he was incapable of making the same level of commitment. Sooner or later he was going to have to face facts—he couldn’t have one without the other.

  And then there was the flood of protectiveness that nearly overwhelmed him. He would die before he let anyone hurt her ever again.

  And finally fear, because despite all the rest, he wasn’t sure he was brave enough to risk his heart, to chance another loss. Kathleen deserved nothing less than a man who could share himself completely and without reservations, and he could lose her because he couldn’t give her what she needed.

  Mack had been wrong. Getting her into bed wasn’t enough. Not by a long shot.

  She stirred against him and that alone was enough to make him forget the fear for now. There would be time enough to worry about that when he was back out at the farm, alone, his equilibrium restored.

  “Hey, sleepyhead, wake up,” he murmured against her ear.

  “Mmmm?”

  “It’s morning.”

  She moaned and snuggled more tightly against him. That was no way to get them both up and out of this bed, Ben concluded. Most of the ideas raging around in his head, in fact, involved this bed and a long, leisurely day spent right here. That was probably not a good idea. If he stayed now, he might never want to leave. History told him that as soon as he wanted anything that much, wanted anyone that much, he was doomed to lose them.

  He forced himself to ease away from Kathleen and sit on the side of the bed, ignoring her little whimper of protest. It was harder to ignore the sneaky hand that reached unerringly for a part of him that had no thought processes at all, only feeling. He’d spent the whole night listening to that part of his anatomy. It was time for his brain to kick back into gear.

  “Oh, no, you don’t, you wicked, wicked woman,” he said lightly, ignoring the temptation. “It’s a workday.”

  “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 life-style and Mack’s version is definitely top-of-the-line. There are no fastfood 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. He wasn’t entirely sure why he found the prospect so daunting. Maybe it was because he was rapidly reaching a point where there was very little he could deny her.

  “You’re here, aren’t you?” she said briskly. “And your car is still by the gallery. I can’t think of a single reason not to pick up where we left off, can you?”

  There was no refuting her logic. “You think you’re clever, don’t you? What makes you think it won’t lead us right back here all over again?”