at the painting in front of Ben and even without an ounce of artistic talent of his own, Mack would recognize that his brother was in a funk. To avoid that, Ben took the still-damp canvas and shoved it out of sight, then grabbed a blank one and sat it on the easel.
Mack came in seconds later, carrying a bag filled with sandwiches and bottles of soda. He glanced at the pristine canvas and raised an eyebrow.
“Artist’s block?” he inquired, barely containing a grin.
“Nope,” Ben lied. “Just thinking about a new painting. Haven’t even picked up my brush yet.”
Mack’s gaze immediately went to the palette of paints that had clearly been in use recently. “Oh?”
“I finished something earlier,” Ben claimed, knowing he was only digging the hole deeper. Mack might not know art, but he knew his brother. He was also pretty deft at recognizing an evasion when he heard one.
“Can I see?” he asked, his expression innocent. His eyes betrayed him, though. They were filled with amusement.
“No. I tossed it out,” Ben claimed. “It wasn’t coming together right.”
“Maybe you were too close to it. Could be you’d lost perspective. I could give you my opinion,” Mack offered cheerfully, clearly not buying the elaborate tale.
“I’d rather you just dole out one of those sandwiches and leave the art critiques to people who know what they’re talking about,” Ben groused.
“You mean people like Kathleen Dugan?” Mack asked, his expression perfectly bland as he handed over a roast beef sandwich. “She seems knowledgeable.”
“It’ll be a cold day in hell before I let her near my paintings,” Ben retorted.
“Because you don’t think she knows the business or because Destiny introduced you?” Mack asked, grinning broadly. “Can’t say I blame you for not trusting our aunt’s motivation in inviting Kathleen out here.”
“Yeah, well, you would know, wouldn’t you?” Ben said.
“That I would.”
“Why are you here, by the way?”
“Just thought I’d drop by and see how you’re doing,” Mack claimed.
“You were here Thursday. It’s only Saturday. How much could happen in a couple of days?”
“I’d say that depends on how sneaky Destiny is being,” Mack said cheerfully. “Has Kathleen popped up yet?”
“No sign of her,” Ben admitted.
Mack studied him intently. “Are you relieved about that?”
“Of course.”
“You don’t sound especially happy. Seemed to me the two of you hit it off okay the other night. Maybe you were hoping she’d turn up to pester you by now.”
Ben gave him a sour look. “We were polite.”
“Then that kiss was just a polite gesture?” Mack asked.
Ben felt his face burn. “What kiss?” he asked with what he thought was a pretty good display of complete ignorance. Surely Mack was just guessing, adding up one man, one woman, a bit of chemistry and drawing his own conclusion about what had happened while he’d been out of the room. Maybe he was simply drawing on the knowledge of what he would have done if left alone with an attractive woman, pre-Beth, of course.
“The kiss I stumbled across when I came back into the dining room,” Mack replied, disproving Ben’s theory. “Looked pretty friendly to me.”
Faced with the truth, indignation seemed the only route left to him. “What the hell were you doing? Spying on us?” Ben demanded.
“Nope,” his brother said, clearly undaunted. “Destiny sent me in to ask how many pies you wanted her to leave for you, so she’d know how many to give Beth and me to take to the hospital.”
“I didn’t hear you come in,” Ben said defensively.
“Obviously.”
Ben scowled at his brother. “You didn’t race right back in the kitchen and report what you’d seen, did you?”
“Absolutely not,” Mack said, his indignation far more genuine than Ben’s. “I just told Destiny you said you’d had all the pie you needed and I should take the rest.”
“That’s why I couldn’t find so much as a crumb when I went looking for a late-night snack,” Ben grumbled.
Mack gave him an unrepentant smile. “I figured you owed me for not blabbing.”
Ben sighed. “You’re right. It’s a small enough price to pay for not getting Destiny’s hopes up. Who knows what she’d dream up, if she thought round one had gone her way.”
“Oh, I don’t think you’re off the hook, little brother, not by any means. In fact, if I were you, I’d be looking over my shoulder from here on out. Something tells me you’ll be seeing Kathleen every time you turn around.”
Ben decided not to tell Mack that he was already seeing her everywhere. The blasted woman had crawled into his head and wouldn’t leave.
* * *
When it came to business, Kathleen wasn’t especially patient. The art world was competitive and she’d learned early to go after what she wanted before someone else snapped it up.
Though Destiny had suggested prudence where Ben was concerned, Kathleen decided not to take any chances. If, by some fluke, word about his talent leaked out, she could be competing with a crowd for the chance to mount his first show, maybe even to represent his work. The fact that he intended to play hard-to-get simply made the game more interesting.
She was back out in the rolling hills of Middleburg by 7:00 a.m. on the Sunday after Thanksgiving. Leaves on the trees were falling fast, but there were still plenty of hints of the gold, red and burnished-bronze colors of fall. On this surprisingly warm, sunny morning, horses had been turned out to pasture behind white fences. It was little wonder that Ben painted nature, when he lived in a setting this spectacular.
Kathleen was armed for the occasion. She had two extralarge lattes from Starbucks with her, along with cranberry scones she’d baked the night before when she couldn’t get to sleep for thinking about Ben and that stash of paintings his aunt had alluded to. She told herself those scones were not bribery, that she hadn’t taken Destiny’s advice about Ben’s sweet tooth to heart. Rather they were simply a peace offering for intruding on his Sunday morning.
She was waiting in her car with the motor running when Ben emerged from the house, wearing yet another pair of disreputable jeans, a sweatshirt and sneakers. Unshaven, his hair shining but disheveled, he looked sexy as hell. All dressed up, he would be devastating.
But she wasn’t here because Ben sent her hormones into high gear. She was here because his talent gave her goose bumps. Sometimes it was hard to separate the two reactions, but in general she steered clear of artists in her personal life. Most were too self-absorbed, the emotional ride too bumpy. If that was her basic philosophy, avoiding the dark, brooding types was her hard-and-fast rule, learned by bitter experience. Ben Carlton was off-limits to her heart. Period.
Seemingly, though, her heart hadn’t quite gotten the message. It was doing little hops, skips and jumps at the sight of him.
She expected a quick dismissal and was prepared to argue. She wasn’t prepared for the hopeful gleam in his eye the instant he spotted the coffee.
“If one of those is for me, I will forgive you for showing up here uninvited,” he said, already reaching for a cup.
“If the coffee gets me inside your studio, what will these freshly baked scones get me?” She waved the bag under his nose.
“I’ll call off the guard dogs,”