Millionaires' Destinies

by Sherryl Woods

  Ben described the mess he and Kathleen had found on their arrival and their plans to finish it. When he described the mural he had in mind for the ceiling, Destiny’s face lit up with the kind of animation he was used to seeing in her, the kind of animation that had been sadly missing earlier.

  “That’s absolutely perfect, but there’s so little time,” she fretted, then beamed at him. “I could help.”

  He stared at her in surprise. “You would do that?”

  “Well, of course I would. It’ll be fun. What time are we going over in the morning?”

  “I’m picking Kathleen up at eight. Will that work for you?”

  She hesitated as if mentally going over her schedule. “I had a seven-thirty breakfast meeting with a committee chairman, but I’ll call her and cancel first thing in the morning. I’ll make it work,” she assured him. “This is far more important.”

  “Richard’s not going to be one bit happier about you being up on a ladder than he was about Melanie trying it,” Ben said.

  Destiny waved off his concern. “What your brother doesn’t know won’t hurt him. He’ll be at work by the time we get there, and we’ll be finished long before he comes home.”

  “Apparently he came home in the middle of the day today,” Ben told her.

  Destiny stared at him in shock. “Richard left the office early?”

  “It’s like some sort of cataclysmic event, isn’t it?” Ben said.

  “Definitely,” Destiny agreed, then grinned. “But I can take care of that with a couple of calls first thing tomorrow, too. He won’t get out of the office till we want him to.”

  “Have I told you how delightfully devious you are?” Ben asked.

  “Yes, but usually it’s not with that note of approval in your voice,” she told him wryly.

  “Well, I think you’re wonderful. Now we both need to get some sleep.”

  “You run along, darling. I’ll be up shortly.”

  “Destiny—” he began worriedly.

  “It’s okay, really. I’m feeling much better. I just want to jot down a few ideas before I lose them.”

  “Ideas for the nursery?”

  “No, nosy. Ideas that are none of your business.”

  Ben sighed, but gave up. He pressed a kiss to her cheek and noted that her color was much better now, her eyes livelier than when he’d first come in. Whatever was troubling her, she was getting a grasp on it. He didn’t doubt for an instant that whatever she was sorting through, she would triumph in the end.

  The wallpapering was going a whole lot more smoothly than the painting, Kathleen thought as she took a break for a soft drink and stood back to admire what they’d accomplished so far.

  The walls were almost finished, but Ben and Destiny were having some serious artistic differences over whether there should be any sort of ogre in the fairytale scenes they were depicting on the ceiling.

  “I want this child looking up at happy things,” Destiny said again, facing Ben with her hands on her slender, jeans-clad hips and a defiant expression on her face.

  “But real life is not all happy,” Ben argued. “And there are ogres in fairy tales.”

  “That is not something a brand-new baby needs to know,” Destiny argued heatedly. “Good grief, Ben, we’re not painting a morality play up there.”

  “And you’re not going to be here to get the baby back to sleep when the nightmares start thanks to your ogre,” Melanie chimed in.

  Destiny nodded her agreement, her gaze clashing with Ben’s. “Well?”

  “Okay, okay, you win. No ogre. But do all the animals have to look happy?”

  “Yes,” Destiny and Melanie told him in a chorus.

  Kathleen grinned at him. “I think you’re overruled, pal. Give it up and get another cheery character in that corner. Peter Rabbit had a lot of pals for you to choose from. And I think this one ought to be a girl. Maybe Jemima Puddleduck,” she suggested. “She’s cute. That ceiling is surprisingly devoid of feminine characters. What kind of message will that send if Melanie has a girl?”

  “It’s not some damn treatise on society,” Ben groused. “Where’s the damn Peter Rabbit book?”

  Melanie chuckled and grinned at Kathleen. “He seems a bit testy.”

  “I’m surrounded by women,” he retorted. “Strongminded, stubborn women. What the hell do you expect?”

  “A better attitude and less cussing would be nice,” Destiny chided.

  “Maybe another blueberry tart would help,” Kathleen said. “I think there’s one left.”

  Ben’s scowl faded at once. “Really?” he said so eagerly that all three women laughed.

  Kathleen shook her head. “It’s a good thing I woke up early and had time to bake this morning.”

  He dropped a kiss on her lips as he passed by. “A very good thing,” he agreed. “Otherwise, I might have to lock all of you out of here and paint footballs and baseball bats on the ceiling just to keep my male identity intact.”

  “If it’s a boy, you can do that when he’s six,” Melanie offered consolingly.

  “Six?” Ben scoffed. “Four at the latest. Otherwise he’ll be scarred for life by all these happy characters. A boy needs guy stuff.” His expression suddenly turned nostalgic and he looked at Destiny. “You painted my walls with all sorts of sports stuff when you came to live with us, didn’t you? I just remembered that.”

  “I thought the room needed a little personality,” Destiny told him. “Richard was perfectly content with that sterile room of his, and Mack already had his walls covered with posters, but your room was a blank canvas just waiting for some attention.” She grinned at him, then turned to Kathleen. “Not that it lasted long. Within a year or so, he painted over it and filled it with all sorts of jungle creatures. I had to take him to the zoo in Washington at least once a week to take snapshots, so he’d have the real animals for inspiration when he painted.”

  “They weren’t half-bad, given they were done by a kid,” Ben said thoughtfully.

  Kathleen wished she’d had a chance to see his early work. She couldn’t help wondering if the promise had been there even back then. “I suppose they’re long since painted over.”

  Destiny gave her a smug look. “Not exactly.”

  Clearly startled, Ben stared at her. “What on earth do you mean? Those paintings are long gone. I slept in that room last night and the walls are plain white.”

  “Those walls are,” Destiny agreed.

  Ben’s gaze narrowed. “Meaning?”

  “Oh, stop scowling at me like that. It’s nothing dire. Rather than painting, I had a contractor come in and replace the wallboard. The original panels are stored in the basement.”

  “You’re kidding me,” Ben said. “Why would you do something like that?”

  “Because I’ve always known you’d be famous someday, and I know how early paintings can add to a gallery’s retrospective of an artist’s work,” she said without apology.

  “Could I see them?” Kathleen pleaded.

  Destiny glanced at Ben. “It’s up to you.”

  He feigned shock. “Really?”

  “Don’t be an idiot,” Destiny scolded. “It is your work.”

  Ben faced Kathleen. “I’ll make you a deal. When we take Destiny home, I’ll go down and have a look. If they’re not too awful, you can see them.”

  Kathleen was beginning to lose track of all the bets and deals they’d made, but this one was definitely too good to pass up.

  “Deal,” she said eagerly. “Who gets to decide if they’re awful?”

  “I do,” he said at once.

  “I want an independent appraisal,” she countered. “Destiny, will you do it?”

  “Happily,” Destiny said at once. “Though I can already tell you the outcome. The paintings are quite wonderful. If they hadn’t been, I would have destroyed them to protect his reputation.”

  “Oh, yes, you’re definitely independent,” Ben retorted. “I don’t think so. If it were up
to you, I might as well just let Kathleen head over there now.”

  Kathleen held out her hand. “That’s okay by me. Let me borrow the key.”

  “You can wait a couple of hours,” he told her, his gaze clashing with hers, then filling with sparks of genuine amusement.

  “Besides,” he added lightly. “The anticipation will be good for you.”

  Kathleen had a hunch he was no longer talking just about the wait to see those wall panels. The sexual tension simmering between them was its own sweet torment. She had a feeling once that was unleashed, neither of their lives would ever be the same.

  Ben was still shocked that Destiny had gone to such lengths to save the murals he’d done years ago in his bedroom. He considered it a crazy, sentimental act, even if she thought she was merely showing amazing foresight. He couldn’t help feeling a certain amount of pride and anticipation, though. It had been years since he’d even thought of those early paintings. Getting the chance to see them again was an unexpected treat.

  Still, he hesitated at the top of the steps to the basement. Kathleen was right on his heels, since they’d all conceded that Destiny was going to overrule any objections he might formulate to letting Kathleen see the wall panels.

  “If you’re not going to walk down those stairs, get out of my way,” she told him impatiently.

  “Don’t rush me.”

  “What are you afraid of?”

  “I’m not afraid,” he retorted sharply.

  “Then why are we still up here?”

  “Because there’s this nagging art expert dogging every step I take. These paintings could be awful,” he said. “I’m not sure I want to expose them to your critical eye.”

  “You agreed,” she reminded him.

  “In a moment of weakness.”

  Kathleen tucked a hand under his elbow and dragged him back into the kitchen. She gazed at him with disconcerting intensity.

  “Are you really worried that I’ll criticize them? Or are you more worried about your own reaction? Believe me, I know what it’s like to realize that your own art doesn’t measure up.”

  He regarded her with surprise. “You do?”

  “Why do you think I’m running a gallery rather than painting myself? Once I realized that nothing I put on canvas would ever be good enough, it was either choose another field of work entirely or choose to live on the fringes of the one I loved.”

  Ben wasn’t sure which part of that to tackle first. “Sweetheart, you’re not on the fringes. You’re right in the thick of things. Your gallery has quite a reputation for discovering new artists.”

  Astonishment lit her eyes. “How do you know that? Did Destiny tell you?”

  He laughed. “I can use the Internet. I’ve poked around a bit to look at the articles that have been written about your shows.”

  “Why?”

  “Call it curiosity.”

  “About me? Or about whether I could be trusted to adequately represent your work?”

  “About you,” he admitted. “The other is a nonissue.”

  “It won’t be forever,” she retorted, then tilted her head and studied him. “So, did you discover anything about me reading those articles?”

  “That you have an excellent eye for talent, that you’re a savvy businesswoman and that you’re very mysterious about your personal life.”

  She laughed. “That’s because I don’t have one.”

  Ben wondered if that was the opening he’d been waiting for. He decided to seize it. “You did, though.”

  She frowned at him. “Nothing worth talking about,” she said tightly. “Are we going downstairs or not?”

  “In a minute,” he said. “As soon as you tell me why you don’t like to talk about your marriage.”

  “I don’t talk about it because it’s over and it no longer matters.”

  The words were smooth enough, but the turmoil in her eyes was unmistakable.

  “You don’t want it to matter,” he corrected. “But it obviously shapes the way you live your life.”

  “Just the way your past shapes yours?” she replied heatedly.

  “I’ll admit that,” he said at once. “Losing my parents and then Graciela had an impact on me, no question about it. I don’t want to go through that kind of pain again, so I don’t let anyone get too close.” He looked deep into her eyes. “Until you. You’re sneaking past all my defenses, Kathleen. I’m not sure yet what the hell to do about that.”

  She looked shaken by that, so he pressed on. “Now’s the time to speak up, if you’re going to keep the door locked tight against anything more happening between us. I don’t intend to be hanging out here on this limb all alone.”

  “I don’t know,” she admitted shakily. “I don’t know if I can open that door again or not.”

  “Because your ex-husband hurt you so badly?”

  “He never hurt me,” she said just a little too fiercely. “Not like that.”

  Ben stared at her, stunned. He doubted she realized that her reaction suggested exactly the opposite of her words.

  “Kathleen?” he said gently, feeling an impotent rage stirring inside him. “Did he abuse you?”

  Tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. “Not the way you mean,” she said eventually. “He never hit me.”

  “But he did abuse you?”

  “With words,” she said as if that were somehow less demeaning, less hurtful. “He had this nasty temper and when it got out of hand, he could be cruel.”

  “Is he the one who told you your art was worthless?” Ben asked.

  She hesitated for so long that Ben knew he was right. The son of a bitch had destroyed her confidence in her own talent, probably because his own ego was incapable of handling the competition. Only an artist would know how easy it would be to shatter another artist’s confidence, would know precisely how a cutting criticism could destroy any enjoyment.

  “He did, didn’t he? He’s the one who told you that you weren’t any good, and you gave up painting because of that.”

  “No,” she said miserably. “I gave it up because I was no good.”

  He studied her with compassion. “Maybe instead of you pestering me to see my work, I should be insisting on seeing yours.”

  She laughed, the sound tinged with bitterness. “No chance of that. I destroyed it all.”

  “Oh, sweetheart, why would you do that?”

  “I told you,” she said impatiently. “I recognize talent when I see it. I had none.”

  “But you enjoyed painting?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then isn’t that alone reason enough to do it?” he asked. “Isn’t the pleasure of putting paint on canvas all that really matters?”

  “You would say that, wouldn’t you?”

  He laughed at her. “Okay, it’s a convenient response from my point of view, but it’s true. Not everything has to be about making money or doing shows or garnering critical acclaim.”

  “Easy for you to say. You’re rich. You can afford to indulge in something that might not be profitable. I can’t.”

  “And you don’t regret for one single second that you no longer paint?” he challenged. “There’s not a part of you that gets a little crazy at the sight of a blank canvas and a tube of paint? Some secret part of you that looks at another artist’s canvas and thinks that you could have done it better?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said, not denying that she had regrets.

  “Of course it does.”

  She brushed impatiently at the tears on her cheeks. “How on earth did we get off on this tangent?” she demanded, standing up. “I want to see those panels downstairs and then I need to be going.”

  Ben knew that anything he said now would be a waste of breath, but his determination to give Kathleen back her love of painting grew. He would find some way to accomplish that, no matter what else happened—or didn’t happen—between them.

  Chapter Nine

  The wall panels in the ba
sement were remarkable. Kathleen stood staring at them, astonished by the brilliance of the colors and the extraordinary detail. As the painting in Ben’s dining room had done, these drew the viewer right into the scene, an especially astonishing feat given that the artist was so young at the time he’d painted them.

  Oh, sure, the work wasn’t as expert as that which had come later, but the signs of promise were unmistakable. In the kind of retrospective Destiny had envisioned when she’d saved them, they would be a treasure.

  “Tell me again,” Kathleen said. “How old were you when you painted these?”

  “Twelve, I guess,” he said with an embarrassed shrug. “Maybe thirteen. I did them when it became evident that I wasn’t going to be the athletic superstar that Mack was. That made all the sports equipment Destiny had painted on the walls seem somewhat misplaced. Besides I loved the zoo and all the animal shows on TV. I wanted nothing more than to go on a safari.”

  “Have you ever gone?”

  He nodded. “Destiny took me when I got straight A’s in eighth grade.”

  “Was it everything you’d imagined?”

  “Even better,” he said at once. “But I like the tamer setting where I live now even more. One is exciting and vibrant, the colors vivid, but I like the pastel serenity of the world around me. It’s more soothing to the soul. No fear of getting gobbled up by a lion where I live.”

  Kathleen gazed into his eyes and detected the hint of humor. “It shows in your work, you know. These are quite amazing, especially given the age you were when you painted them, but your more recent work has soul. There’s an obvious connection between artist and subject.”

  “You know that from seeing one painting?”

  She laughed at his skepticism. “I am an expert, remember?”

  “How could I forget?”

  He surveyed her intently, warming her. A part of her wanted desperately to respond to that heat, to the promise of the kind of intimacy she’d never really known, not even in her marriage, but fear held her back. Ben had already cut through so many of her defenses. She intended to cling ferociously to those that were left. She finally blinked and looked away from that penetrating gaze.