‘Losing myself in painting has been my salvation, as devoting yourself to your business has been yours. Why change the status quo when we have found a successful formula?’
‘A formula,’ Kris remarked, unconvinced. ‘Can’t we try for something more?’
‘I’m not sure. Can we?’
They sat in silence for quite a while. It wasn’t a tense or angry silence—it was a thoughtful silence.
‘What do you want from me, Kimmie?’ Kris said at last.
‘I want too much,’ she admitted. ‘I want someone to share everything with, someone who loves me for myself and who won’t try to change me. I want a man I can respect and trust, who will protect me when I’m not able to protect myself.’
‘I can’t imagine that time coming,’ Kris admitted, lightening up a little.
‘It will when I have a child,’ Kimmie admitted. ‘I won’t be a warrior woman then. I’ll be vulnerable. I’ll trust the nurses, of course I will, but having someone close, someone special to share that unique moment of happiness with...’ Her voice tailed off. ‘What will I do if you’re away on business when I go into labour? You see my problem,’ she said when Kris looked taken aback.
‘So marriage is out?’
‘It would never work,’ Kimmie said confidently. ‘I’d stand up to you.’
‘And you think I don’t want that?’
‘I know you don’t. You want the easy life, the woman waiting for you with her hair combed and her make-up on, and the children fed, bathed and asleep when you get home from work.’
He laughed out loud, shattering the tension between them into countless tiny shards. ‘You’re so wrong,’ he said, dragging her into his arms. ‘Marry me, and I’ll take care of you and you’ll never feel vulnerable again.’
‘I’ll just feel lonely when you’re not there,’ she remarked sadly.
Holding her at arm’s length, Kris stared deep into her eyes. He was so easy to succumb to, with those satanic brows and molten black eyes, but she hadn’t yet found a way to jump over that gulf between them and until they found a way to bridge it there wasn’t a chance she’d accept Kris’s proposal.
‘I want you,’ he ground out.
‘I want you too,’ she admitted.
‘Then marry me.’
‘Without love?’
‘I didn’t say that. You’re jumping to conclusions again.’
‘Based on everything you’ve said. Look, I understand a man as rich as you might attract the wrong type of people, but is that a good enough reason to hold your feelings in when you find something you seem to feel so strongly is right? Until you change...that’s if you’re even capable of changing... I’m not going to agree to marry you. I don’t want to fill a vacancy on your staff. I want to be loved wildly and passionately, deeply, and for ever, as your uncle loved your aunt.’
‘I’m a realist, not a romantic.’
‘Well, when you become a lover, let me know.’
Pulling his head back, Kris stared into her face. ‘You’re a hard woman, Kimmie Lancaster.’
‘I’m anything but,’ Kimmie insisted. ‘I’m full of love.’ As she spoke she stroked her precious bulge. ‘And I’m still full of hope for the future, and I want you to be happy too.’
‘I will be happy if you agree to marry me.’
‘Which amounts to nothing more than signing a piece of paper, just another contract as far as you are concerned. You’ll have to try harder than that.’
‘Then tell me what to do,’ he said, frustrated.
‘Express your feelings freely, passionately—don’t hold them in a place so deep that even you can’t find them. Take a chance, as I did.’
A stiff breeze chose that moment to ruffle Kimmie’s hair. Smoothing it back from her face, she turned her collar up. ‘Do you think we could go back to the car? It’s getting cold out here.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Kris agreed immediately. ‘Let’s do that.’
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THERE WAS ONE area in their lives that neither of them had any trouble in expressing. Physical reassurance could be as potent as countless words, and their needs were mutually pressing. They started off walking at a normal speed down the path, but their footsteps gradually quickened until, reaching for each other’s hand, they began to run through the park. Arriving at the car, they dived in and sat tensely while Kris turned on the engine and manoeuvred the growling vehicle through the sluggish London traffic.
‘To hell with this!’ he exclaimed, swinging the wheel as they approached a private underground car park.
Shadows enveloped them as he drove around and found a space tucked away in a private corner. Parking up, he switched off the engine and then performed some cunning adjustment that made Kimmie’s seat fall flat. Moving across the seat, he came to kneel between her legs. Freeing himself, he removed her underwear. ‘Yes?’
‘Yes!’
‘I couldn’t wait,’ he explained in a throaty husk as he took her deep and began to move.
‘So glad...’ Kimmie managed to gasp out as she wriggled beneath him to allow an even deeper thrust. ‘Ah, good...so good. I’ll never get enough of this.’
‘It’s to be hoped not,’ Kris groaned.
It was quite a long time later that they finally sat back and straightened their clothes. It was sexier leaving her with her thoughts and well-used body than talking, Kimmie mused contentedly as Kris flashed his card at the barrier and they drove away.
‘Promise me you’ll always be spontaneous,’ she murmured, leaning back and closing her eyes as he drove smoothly on.
‘That’s one thing I can promise to do,’ he said dryly.
When they pulled up outside his town house, Kris came round to the passenger side. ‘My legs are still weak,’ she murmured as he helped her down.
‘Then I’ll carry you.’
‘No, that’s really not necessary.’
‘Yes, it is, Ms Independence,’ he assured her as he swung her into his arms and jogged up the steps.
‘Put me down and I’ll walk,’ she protested as Kris opened the door.
‘I prescribe rest...eventually,’ he amended as the door closed behind them.
‘What do you...? Oh,’ Kimmie exclaimed softly as Kris stopped halfway up the stairs.
Lowering her carefully on to the plushly carpeted step, Kris freed himself and took her again. This was one time she was glad to have left her underwear off, Kimmie thought, laughing out loud as Kris explained in a matter-of-fact tone, ‘I get really good purchase in this position.’
She wasn’t about to argue with that. She wasn’t about to speak at all. Sometimes actions spoke louder than words and this was one of those times.
‘You see,’ he said when they paused for breath, ‘we don’t need to get married to be together.’
‘We can just make love on the stairs.’
‘As often as we can,’ he confirmed, ‘though it may get harder as you get more pregnant.’
‘I’m sure you’ll find a way.’
‘So am I,’ he said, smiling as he helped her up. ‘And, by the way, I’ve got something for you.’
‘Something else?’
‘This is serious,’ he told her as he carried her the rest of the way up the stairs. ‘It’s something my uncle wants you to have.’
Shouldering the door to his bedroom, Kris had stripped off her remaining clothes before they even reached the bed. Resting her carefully on the crisply dressed mattress, he stripped off too.
‘I thought you had something to give me,’ she reminded him.
‘I do,’ Kris assured her as he began to tease her with just the firm, smooth tip of his formidable erection. ‘I have quite a lot to give you.’
Nudging her back onto the firm, supporting pillows, he hooked her legs over his shoulders, spread he
r wide and took her deep.
That night she slept in Kris’s arms, and in the morning they made love again. No words were necessary. They came together by mutual consent and worked effortlessly towards pleasure with the certainty of knowing what each other liked. She dozed afterwards and woke to find Kris fresh from the shower with a white towel wrapped around his washboard waist, looking like that hero from Greek legend again.
‘Do you want your present now?’
‘I thought I’d just had it,’ she murmured groggily, turning over lazily in bed.
‘Something more tangible...’
‘Than this?’ she teased as she caressed her belly. ‘You’ve already given me the only gift I want.’
‘But my uncle would like to give you something more...something very special and very dear to him.’
‘What is it?’ Sitting up in bed, she covered herself with a sheet and waited.
Kris produced a ring box from the nightstand. ‘I know you don’t like rings unless they come out of a cracker, but I thought you might make an exception in this case.’
‘Oh, Kris...’ Kimmie’s emotions welled as never before as she stared at the beautiful ring.
‘I believe my aunt was a little like you, in that she was always impressing on my uncle that it was him she loved and not his money, and so he had this jewel specially set. It’s modest, as you can see, but unique and very beautiful.’
That was putting it mildly, Kimmie thought as she reverently removed the ring from its deep blue velvet nest. ‘What is the stone?’
‘It’s a cabochon star sapphire the same colour as my aunt’s eyes, with the same light I see in yours. We both thought it would be...appropriate.’
‘But how can your uncle bear to part with it?’
Kris hesitated and then shrugged. ‘He thought it might help my cause.’
‘Your cause?’
‘When I ask you to marry me,’ he said as if this were obvious.
Kris’s tone of voice might have been the same to discuss the arrangements for a new office block, Kimmie thought as her heart squeezed tight.
‘Kris, we’ve already been through this,’ she said as she carefully put the ring back in the box. Snapping the case shut, she handed it back to him. ‘I can’t marry someone who doesn’t love me, especially when the financial gulf between us is so wide. I would rather continue as I am—’
‘Poor but proud?’
‘If you like. I’m sorry if I misled you in any way, and please believe me when I say I would do anything not to offend your uncle. This gesture by him is huge and amazing, and generous beyond belief, but I can’t accept this ring. And wasn’t it you who said we didn’t have to get married?’
‘We don’t,’ Kris confirmed, bristling. ‘But I thought—’
‘For the sake of our child?’ Kimmie interrupted. ‘Or for the sake of Kaimos Shipping?’
‘Well, I hope you know the answer to that by now,’ he said tersely. Turning, he pulled on his jeans as if to signify the end of the discussion.
And it had not ended well. Again.
* * *
Kimmie set out on foot to walk from Kris’s house in an exclusive part of London to the city and her bank. It was time to pick up the reins of her life and she needed some cash. A new start, a new outlook on life—she felt optimistic, not defeated, and, in fairness, Kris had helped with that, by making her feel beautiful, wanted, desired for the first time in her life.
But even he had an angle: an heir for Kaimos Shipping. Her love for him was as simple and as complicated as that. Yes, they would share responsibility for their child and split the time between them, they had decided. Lots of families did that successfully, and it was wrong to want more, she had insisted. But she did want more. She wanted the family she’d never had, but perhaps that was as much a fantasy as the dreams she depicted in her paintings. Even so, she remained positive as she hurried along, smiling to herself. It wasn’t everyone who said, No, thank you, to a billionaire’s proposal. Yes, but wasn’t that a hollow triumph? Kimmie mused as she entered the bank. She loved Kris. She would always love Kris, no matter what the future held for them.
For some reason her card wouldn’t work in the cash machine. The queues were long in front of the counter, so she asked to see the manager. She didn’t have to wait long before she was called into the office.
‘What do you mean there’s no money in my personal account?’ she demanded. ‘I know I instructed you to close my business account, but...’
‘Your accounts were still linked,’ the manager explained stiffly, ‘and so the money in your personal account went to paying off the significant overdraft in your business account before we then closed it. It’s the bank’s policy.’
What a mess. So much for pride. The bank manager had warned her before that Mike had emptied the business account—he’d clearly done more than that. She should have checked her balances, but life had been so hectic recently. Now all she wanted was to leave the manager’s office before the stifling air of condescension smothered her.
‘Thank you,’ she said. For nothing, she thought, holding her head up high as she left the room.
It was raining when she reached the street. Of course it was. How fitting. She had a baby to think about and no money at all. Finally forced to a halt by pedestrian lights that, obviously, were also against her, she had the humiliating task of checking the few coins in her purse before deciding if she could afford to duck inside a roadside café to shelter herself from the rain.
‘Flat decaf and a packet of caramel wafers, please,’ she said when it was her turn in the queue. Both came under the heading of emergency rations, and could therefore be justified. She had two pounds twenty pence exactly left in her purse, which wasn’t even enough for her bus fare home. As she waited, she noticed a sign. Reading was a distraction, and she had something of a history with signs. This one read Staff Needed.
‘Can I help you?’ the young woman behind the counter asked, seeing Kimmie’s interest.
The barista looked nice and friendly and so Kimmie dived straight in. ‘I need a job and you’re advertising for staff?’
‘Do you have any experience?’
‘Well, yes, but no, I mean...’
‘Which is it?’
This was not her finest moment. Still reeling from the news at the bank, she had tears in her eyes. ‘I know how to make coffee,’ she offered lamely.
The barista smiled sympathetically. ‘I’m really sorry. We should have taken that notice down. The position has been filled. No. Really, it has,’ the barista insisted. ‘Why don’t you try further down the high street? There are always flyers on the shop windows advertising jobs down there.’
For out of work artists whose only experience was with a paintbrush?
‘Thank you. I will,’ Kimmie said as she went to find a seat. Predictably, every seat was taken.
For someone who’d been self-supporting for as long as she had, this new development took some getting used to. She thought about Kris. If the gulf between them had been unbridgeable before, what was it now?
She couldn’t tell anyone. Why burden them with her stupidity? With nothing else to do, she checked her phone. There was a message from Mandy to let her know that people were already asking about Kimmie’s next exhibition, and a text from Kris that made her heart pound: Are you okay? Let me know. She couldn’t fault him for his sense of duty and caring nature. If only he could express his emotions as freely... I’m fine, she replied. Adding a kiss seemed inappropriate. Theirs was more of a business relationship now. There was also a lovely little message from Kyria Demetriou that made her eyes sting, and made her long for things that seemed permanently out of reach, like a simple life where people loved each other openly, and where everyone was kind and smiled a lot. It was time to start painting again, she concluded.
And she would b
uy paint and canvas how, exactly?
* * *
‘To what do I owe this honour?’
Kris flinched inwardly as Kimmie silently, but quite obviously, braced herself, before saying whatever it was she had come to say.
‘You don’t mind?’ she said, glancing around, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. ‘I mean, my coming here to your office in town?’
‘Of course I don’t.’ With a look at his PA, he indicated his wish not to be interrupted until further notice. His agenda was full for the day, but never too full to accommodate Kimmie. ‘What can I do for you?’ he said as soon as the door had closed. ‘Sit down,’ he invited, choosing a chair where she could look over the landmarks of London without feeling she must stare straight at him. ‘Would you like something to drink?’
‘I just had a drink down the road, thank you.’
‘Then stop wringing your hands and tell me what’s on your mind. Come on, Kimmie. This isn’t like you. You always come straight out with things. Where’s my Warrior Woman gone?’
‘She’s on a break,’ Kimmie admitted dryly, but it was a poor attempt at humour and her shoulders slumped. As he might have expected, her dejection didn’t last long and, lifting her chin, she informed him, ‘The woman you see before you now is Crushed Woman... Broke Woman... Woman in Need of a Loan.’
‘Well, if that’s all...’
The look she gave him reminded him they were both survivors. ‘I’ve never asked you for money and I’m not going to start now,’ she said.
‘Tell me what’s happened, though I should tell you that I can’t see you as Crushed Woman. You’re more of a cork than a piece of tinfoil.’
‘How flattering.’
But she was smiling. ‘I try my best,’ he said, straight-faced. ‘So, how can I help you to bob up again this time?’
‘I need a loan to buy canvas and paint, but I’ll pay you back.’
‘You need a loan?’ he echoed, frowning.
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