Yes, Kimmie thought as she strode out. This wouldn’t be a terrifying snooty event like her first exhibition, but an event full of warmth and love, where wonderful, genuine people would surround her. She didn’t have to dress up in stiff, awkward clothes and try to be someone else. She could be Kimmie and relax.
* * *
London was vast and, even with the meagre clues he had to follow, it wasn’t easy to find a definite lead. But when he had almost given up for the day, and was heading home to his town house behind Harrods, he saw a flyer in a small art shop window.
He’d found her!
The shock of it had been like a punch to his solar plexus. He’d been flying ever since. But he wouldn’t rush this. He had to get it right or she’d no doubt find some way to disappear again. Stubborn, proud and independent, Kimmie belonged to no one, and was all the more desirable for that.
The thought that after all this time he would be seeing her tomorrow had made for a sleepless night, and the next day had been spent pacing his office, refusing all calls. Eventually, he deemed it time to go home, shower and change into something more relaxed...more Kimmie, more appropriate for a sunny, upbeat exhibition in a community hall.
Her choice of venue made him smile. It was so Kimmie, he reflected as he parked the shave in favour of leaving a few minutes earlier than he’d planned. She’d probably been turned down by all the regular galleries, and had marched on undaunted. She could always be relied upon to do the unexpected. Wasn’t that the essence of her charm?
* * *
Unbelievable. The line of people waiting patiently for Kimmie’s exhibition to open stretched down the road as far as she could see through the front window of the community hall, and there were quite a few faces she recognised from her first exhibition. What meant even more was the fact that it wasn’t just a gathering of photographers and celebrities and assorted glitterati jostling on the pavement waiting for the doors to open, but what seemed to Kimmie to be the entire neighbourhood turning out to support her.
‘This is amazing,’ she exclaimed, turning to Mandy. ‘I just can’t believe it—I can’t tell you how much it means to me. How did you get people to come?’
‘You got them to come,’ Mandy said as they peered through the window together. ‘They’re here for you, Kimmie, and for your art. You’ve done so much for us, working late into the night to redecorate and brighten up this centre, and nothing goes unnoticed here.’
When they opened the doors the big hall was full to capacity right away. What amazed Kimmie even more was the fact that the sticky red dots Mandy was putting on frames to show that a picture was sold quickly covered most of the exhibition. Soon there wouldn’t be anything left to buy...except for the huge canvases of Kris, which as yet hadn’t sold.
No! They had sold too, she noticed on her next inspection. Both the portrait of Kris in profile and the initial sketch she’d made, as well as the huge nude of him, had red dots in the corner of each frame.
Insanely, she now felt a pang of jealousy. Who was going to hang naked Kris on their wall? She didn’t want to part with him and would just have to explain to the prospective purchaser that there’d been a mistake and that certain canvases weren’t for sale.
Who’d agreed the price, anyway? she wondered as she frowned and stroked her bump. These were the only two paintings without prices attached, and they were both of Kris. She couldn’t explain why that had happened... Well, she could—she had never really wanted to sell the images of Kris in the first place.
Turning, she searched the room for Mandy, hoping her fairy godmother would be able to tell her who had put in the offer to buy them, and how much they’d paid. She’d have to refund it, of course, but it couldn’t be helped. Plenty of other paintings had sold, more than enough to see her through financially, if she was really careful, for the whole of next year.
* * *
Nothing could have prepared him for seeing Kimmie again. The shock of realising she was pregnant took even longer to process. His baby? Of course it was his baby. Furious with himself for even harbouring doubt for a moment, he drank her in like a man finding water in the desert. Even beneath her shapeless dungarees, which she wore with one strap hanging down and the top half askew and paint-streaked, it was obvious she was quite a few months pregnant. Pregnant and proud.
The scale of the hall made her appear smaller and more fragile than he remembered, but that was deceptive. Physically, Kimmie might be vulnerable, but her spirit was pure tempered steel. From her tousled purple-streaked hair cascading way past her waist to the tip of her trainers-clad feet she was everything he remembered, and now so much more.
She was staring up at his portrait and appeared deep in thought. It was a kick in the teeth to see himself through Kimmie’s eyes in that first sketch she’d ever made of him, now a life-size painting. He appeared so harsh and unforgiving, with his jaw set and his eyes fierce, his mouth firmed in an intolerant line. There was no humour or tenderness to be seen. Was that what she actually thought of him?
A great well of feeling opened up inside him as she stroked her bump. The unconscious gesture touched him somewhere deep, somewhere he didn’t even know he had. Was she introducing their child to its father, or making a vow to keep them apart?
He hadn’t realised how much he’d missed her, or how much seeing her again would affect him. Both elated and stunned now he knew she was pregnant, he wasn’t sure of the reception he’d receive. Kimmie had gone to ground for reasons he believed had nothing to do with him or the pregnancy. His best guess was she just wanted to get on with her life. And why shouldn’t she? Why should she think any more of him than her ex-fiancé? He’d given her no reason to feel reassured. Business had always come first for him, and he’d been away from her for so much longer than he’d ever intended, though once he was back in London he’d launched a futile search for her right away.
Angry with himself for even wasting a moment, it was as if every emotion he’d suppressed for years came flooding back all at once. Discovering they were going to have a child together had rocked his foundations. The thought of becoming a father filled him with fire and love, and an overwhelming need to provide and protect. He had to do better than his parents. He must. He would.
* * *
‘Kimmie...’
She turned slowly as if she needed a moment to accept that she really was hearing his voice.
‘Kris?’ she whispered, staring up at him in disbelief. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Fulfilling my promise to you,’ he said with a shrug, when what he felt like doing was dragging her into his arms and kissing her hard with sheer relief, and what he felt like saying was, Did you imagine I could stay away?
She took him in, from the top of his wild, uncombed hair, to the abundance of stubble on his face, and on to his black winter boots, heavy jacket and jeans. Once he’d discovered Kimmie’s whereabouts, he’d barely drawn a level breath. It had been hard enough waiting until her exhibition opened without wasting time on thinking how he looked. Like a vagabond, he guessed, remembering how she’d loved to rub herself against his stubble.
A faint pink flush came to her cheeks as she admitted, ‘I didn’t think you’d bother.’
‘I’ve been searching for you. You’ve become quite elusive.’
She didn’t deny it and, after a few tense seconds, she caressed her stomach and said, ‘As you can see, we need to talk.’
‘Yes, we do,’ he agreed.
‘I’m afraid I can’t spare the time yet...’ She glanced around. ‘Has anyone offered you a cup of tea?’
‘No, but I’m fine without one. I’ll wait for you.’
‘Have something to eat,’ she pressed, leading the way to a buffet table laden with delicious-looking home-made fare. He guessed this had been donated by Kimmie’s loyal supporters, judging by the warm greetings and glances coming her way.
‘Have you just flown in? You must be tired,’ she said.
‘I have a house in London.’
‘Oh...yes...yes, of course. So you found me,’ she added, clearly uncertain as to his feelings for her.
‘Appears so,’ he agreed, noting how she nursed her belly as she stared at him. ‘Happy news,’ he said firmly, wanting to put his stake in the ground. ‘I wish I’d known sooner, but that business issue was more problematic than I’d thought.’
‘So you didn’t get my note,’ she said.
He frowned. ‘What note?’
‘The note I left with your receptionist in London when I couldn’t get hold of you any other way.’
‘I haven’t received a note.’
He couldn’t bear that they were talking in such an abbreviated form, like two strangers discussing the weather.
‘I want you to know how thrilled I am.’ Even that seemed inadequate, when what he wanted to do was to throw back his head and roar with happiness, and with confidence in the future. His natural impatience overcame his plan to play it cool. ‘How soon can you leave?’ he asked.
‘The exhibition?’ Kimmie frowned. ‘I can’t.’
‘You’re not going to stay here all night, are you?’
‘No,’ she agreed, ‘but I don’t want to keep you hanging around, and I can’t say what time we’ll be locking up. We can’t leave until the last guest has left the building.’
‘We?’ A bolt of suspicion hit him like a freight train. It had never occurred to him that there might be someone else in the picture.
‘Mandy, the caretaker, and me,’ Kimmie explained, smiling faintly as if she’d guessed the track his thoughts were taking. ‘I won’t leave Mandy to clear up on her own, and I don’t want to rush anyone out of here. To be honest, I really shouldn’t be talking to you now.’
‘When, then?’ he bit out, finally noticing that a queue of people, all wanting to speak to the artist, had formed behind him. Timing was everything in business; Kimmie had created an uplifting exhibition in challenging times and she was obviously very much in demand. To maximise sales and guarantee future commissions, she had to strike while the iron was hot. ‘Text me when you’re done,’ he demanded as she stared at him and raised a brow.
‘I don’t have your number,’ she reminded him coolly.
‘You don’t...?’ Cursing his own stupidity silently, he pulled out his phone. ‘Here—take it now.’
Maybe his tone was a little terse, but she made no attempt to do as he asked. Instead she said, ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like to put a tag in my ear too?’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Kris, you can’t speak to me like that. You can’t walk back into my life after months apart as if nothing’s happened and claim me like just another of your properties. Your business trip is finally over and you’re at a loose end. I get that. But I came home determined to pick up my career, and that’s what I’ve done. At the moment things are going really well but, with a baby on the way, I have to maintain the momentum. I can’t drop everything just because it suits you.’
‘If not today, then tomorrow,’ he said, hardly believing he was prepared to wait, but he could hardly tear her away from such a successful event. Nor could he hang around like a spare part. ‘I’ll send my driver to pick you up.’
‘You’re too busy?’ she suggested bluntly.
‘No. It’s just...’
‘The way things are done in your world?’ she supplied when he fell short of an answer.
It was the way things were done in his world. So his world would have to change.
‘Give me a time, and I’ll pick you up myself.’
‘Don’t bother; I’m quite capable of meeting you anywhere you choose.’
‘I want to pick you up. Is that clear enough, you infuriating woman?’ he ground out.
‘You’re sure business won’t call you away again?’
The way she asked did more than hint at hurt and loss of trust, and it was a warning not to mess this up.
‘My business is here with you,’ he stated firmly.
She gave him a long, considering stare, while he wanted nothing more than to give her that loving hug she’d asked for all those months ago. Following his instinct and drawing her into his arms, he held her close. Inhaling deeply, he absorbed her light floral scent. In her artist’s dungarees splashed with paint, Kimmie looked every inch the creative genius, but underneath that façade he knew she was vulnerable and alone. She needed him as much as he needed her, and not just because she was expecting his child—a child who would eventually inherit the Kaimos Shipping line—but because they were better together than apart. Without her, he was nothing. Life was bland and colourless. He hadn’t realised just how much she meant to him until now.
Before he knew it, she’d pulled away.
‘Kimmie...’
Too late. She was already swallowed up in the crowd. Fuming at missed opportunities, he wasn’t in the best of moods when the caretaker, Mandy, appeared at his side.
‘Kimmie says she’d like to meet you here tomorrow, and then go to a nearby café to talk.’
‘She couldn’t tell me that herself?’
‘Mr Kaimos. This is Kimmie’s moment. Please don’t deny her what she’s worked so hard for. She’s done so much good here in such a short time—offering free art classes, painting the hall. We owe her, and I can’t stand by and let anyone take that away. Don’t be too proud to accept her suggestion. Meet her at eleven tomorrow morning, when she’s had the chance to absorb what’s happened here today.’
‘Eleven tomorrow,’ he called out as Mandy walked away. But this was the last time he’d go through an intermediary, and Kimmie needed to know that.
Hearing the tension in his voice, Mandy turned. ‘You’re both wounded. Give yourselves the chance to heal.’
This wasn’t over yet. It had only just begun.
CHAPTER TWELVE
NO. NO. NO. She couldn’t do this again. The way she had felt when she’d seen Kris again was too extreme, too big, too life-changing. It was as if everything had come into sharp focus, making the world a bigger, brighter place. Unfortunately, she already knew that such things were fantasies that could all come crashing down, and did she want to risk that again? Could she, with a baby to consider?
Having taken refuge in Mandy’s office, and having passed the buck to Mandy when it came to telling Kris that she would agree to meet him here at the community centre tomorrow morning at eleven, she was not only feeling pathetic for hiding away but wondering if she’d made the biggest mistake yet in agreeing to see him again. What was he going to do? Pat her on the back and write a cheque? She didn’t want his financial help in raising their child. She didn’t want his financial help full stop. What she should do now was go and find him and tell him they could meet at a lawyer’s office to discuss the details. She could just text him and cancel. She had his number...
Kimmie went as far as pulling out her phone before realising how ridiculous she was being. Having a child with Kris wasn’t something she wanted to run away from, even if she could. They were two rational human beings and they could have a civilised discussion like anyone else.
Sitting back in Mandy’s chair, she stuffed the phone back into her pocket and closed her eyes. That almost made things worse, because now she could feel her heart aching because she’d seen him again, while her body was behaving disgracefully. It was a need only Kris could fill and though to have him back was like a light switching on, when he left he’d take another piece of her heart, and what about their baby? How would she explain that sort of behaviour to their child? Oh, your father will see you again when he’s got time? There was nothing more important in all the world than this baby, and she would protect their child with her life, even from Kris if she had to.
Deny their child the other half
of its heritage? Could she really do that?
She must stand up to Kris to stop him taking over. And she could do it, because it was time, as Mandy had said, for Kimmie to believe in herself.
Returning to the hall, she tried to find him in the throng, but it was hopeless trying to see over people’s heads. Increasingly frustrated, she had to act normally for the sake of everyone who was here to support her, but it was hard to concentrate with pictures of Kris hanging on the walls. All she’d wanted was to throw herself into his arms and welcome him back so they could share the happiness of expecting a child together, but doubt remained as to how long he’d stay and while that stood between them she couldn’t—wouldn’t—expose herself and their child to future hurt.
‘He’s gone.’
‘I’m sorry?’ Kimmie stared blankly at Mandy.
‘He paid for the paintings and left.’
‘Which paintings?’ Kimmie shook her head in bewilderment.
‘He bought the nude of himself on that rumpled bed as well as the portrait. And he paid a lot of money for them,’ Mandy added with obvious delight. ‘I explained that I wasn’t sure of the price, but when he mentioned a figure I knew you wouldn’t want me to refuse. The portrait’s for his uncle, he said, while the nude was for private consumption only. Don’t worry,’ she added as Kimmie frowned. ‘He smiled as he said that, so I think he took it well.’
‘And now he’s gone?’ she said, not wanting to believe it as she looked around again.
‘Yes,’ Mandy confirmed. ‘And we’d better start circulating again. There are people waiting to speak to you, and others wanting to pay. I’m guessing this is going to be your second sell-out show.’
Mandy’s happy words of triumph echoed somewhere in Kimmie’s head, but all she was aware of, really, was that Kris had gone again. Why had he left? What did it signify? Was he pleased about the baby? Indifferent? Or was he already making plans to consult his lawyers?
The Greek's Virgin Temptation Page 11
