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With a shrug, she wiped her hands and picked up her sketchbook. The chemistry between her and Kris was extraordinary and compelling. And it would continue to do its dangerous work with or without her cooperation, she accepted, pencil poised.
‘You’ve stopped sketching,’ Kris remarked.
‘Excuse me while I study my subject.’
Who was she trying to kid? She didn’t need to study Kris when every detail of his face—and at least 90 per cent of his body—was firmly etched on her mind.
‘What do you see when you look at me? Apart from the shadows behind my eyes, I mean,’ he added with a slight quirk at one corner of his firm, sexy mouth.
‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’ Kimmie smiled as she dipped her head over her work. ‘One thing is certain. My drawing will uncover the real you.’
‘Should I be worried?’
‘Almost certainly,’ she murmured.
‘I’m eager to see your interpretation,’ Kris said dryly.
She pulled a wry grimace. ‘As is the rest of the world, I hope.’
This at least was her strength. As soon as her fingers had closed around the familiar pencil, she knew what she was doing, and was confident that the seemingly stark lines on paper would eventually amount to so much more. Relationships were much the same, she reflected as she became lost in her work and her breathing steadied. Built on tiny bricks of action and consequence, they could founder or flourish, depending on whose hand was guiding the pencil. There’d be no more free drawing in her life, Kimmie determined as she sat back to examine her work so far. She would remain in control. Turning the shocks and disappointment of the past thirty-six hours on their head, this new set of paintings would mark a fresh beginning.
‘Don’t get the wrong idea,’ she added as she paused to check she’d got the angle of Kris’s jaw exactly right. Yes. It was every bit as strong, firm and resolute as the lines she had laid down on paper. ‘My promise not to sell images of you without your permission stands firm. If you do give the go-ahead, any funds they make will go straight into that scholarship fund I told you about.’
‘To help young artists,’ he confirmed.
‘That’s right.’ She couldn’t quite bring herself to ask Kris to be a sponsor of the scheme. It was just another way of asking him for money, and he must be sick of that. This was a better way. She did the work and with his permission the project would hopefully prosper from the sale.
‘Would you like to see how far I’ve got?’ she asked when she was nearly finished.
‘Of course.’ Kris whistled softly beneath his breath when she turned the sketchpad around for him to see. ‘You certainly didn’t flatter me.’
‘I told you I wouldn’t. I’m drawing you as I see you today.’
‘Hard and driven,’ he murmured. ‘With an almost frightening sense of purpose in my eyes...’ He frowned. ‘And no humour at all?’
She huffed a rueful smile. ‘If the cap fits.’
‘You don’t hold back, do you, Kimmie Lancaster?’
‘Caution is boring, in art as in life. And how do I know the occasional flashes of humour I see in your eyes aren’t just a front you use to lure your victims in?’
‘My victims?’ Kris queried, pulling his head back to look at her.
‘Okay, so maybe that’s a bit harsh,’ Kimmie conceded, ‘but I did warn you that I look beneath the surface to see what’s there. Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer me to flatter you?’
Kris threw up his hands in mock surrender. ‘Do what you like,’ he said.
‘I’ll almost certainly be turning these sketches into full-sized paintings,’ she thought it only fair to explain.
‘Good,’ Kris said. ‘I look forward to seeing them.’
Would he ever see them? she wondered. ‘They’re for a good cause.’
‘Wouldn’t it be better for you to put the proceeds from the sale into a property for yourself?’
‘No,’ she said, laughing. ‘You’re such a businessman.’
‘I should hope so.’
‘And that’s the essential difference between us,’ she mused. ‘You’re practical, I’m impractical.’
‘It doesn’t hurt anyone to have a business head on their shoulders,’ Kris countered, ‘and it would be essential now you’re becoming a success, I would have thought.’
Yes, she should get a handle on that, Kimmie thought uneasily, remembering how she’d agreed to leave all of that side of things to Mike. ‘What else has Kyria Demetriou told you about me?’ Because she was the only person here who would have told him about her desire to buy her own house.
‘I’m quite capable of conducting my own investigations.’
‘I won’t even ask,’ she said, rolling her eyes.
Kris shrugged. ‘I stand by my advice.’
‘Even if my paintings of you sold for thousands, it would only buy me the door of a shed in London.’ Did that sound as if she was asking him for money? It was complicated, knowing a billionaire. Things she’d joke about with her friends suddenly took on a very different significance. She laughed to change the subject and her mood and, to her relief, Kris laughed with her.
‘I’d hoped to be worth more than a shed door,’ he admitted.
‘Well, there you are. You’re not worth much after all. And I’m not much of a businesswoman,’ Kimmie admitted. ‘I don’t even know if I’m still the latest “hot young artist”, or if my first exhibition was a fluke and my fifteen minutes of fame are already up. The next show should prove it one way or another... That’s if I can find someone to exhibit my work,’ she added, frowning.
‘Can’t you pay someone to exhibit your work?’
‘It’s usually done by the gallery owner taking a commission on every work sold, but I just don’t know if anyone will be interested. Believe it or not, Kris Kaimos, not every problem can be solved with money.’
‘But how are you supposed to get by until you have your next show? You told me when we met on the beach that you spent a lot of your available cash on the wedding.’
‘The non-wedding,’ she reminded him. ‘I agree, it does sound a bit silly now, reckless even, but when life has thrown me lemons I like to make a good cocktail with them rather than pull an “I sucked a lemon” face.’
‘So you always bounce back,’ he said thoughtfully.
‘I try to. Sometimes it’s hard
er than others,’ she admitted. But she’d keep on trying, again and again, until one day she found that home port and an anchor. ‘And don’t worry—I still have just enough money left to see me through until my next exhibition.’
‘I think you’ve got a pretty clear idea of where you’re heading and how to get there,’ Kris observed as she closed the sketch pad and put it to one side. ‘Everyone has setbacks. It’s how you recover from them that counts and I believe in you. I don’t mean that to sound patronising.’
‘Accepted,’ she said.
‘Everyone has to start somewhere, even me,’ he teased with a wicked grin that warmed her through.
‘Don’t get too confident,’ she warned, ‘or the imp inside me will force me to knock you off that pedestal.’
‘I’d like to see you try,’ he murmured in a way that had everything to do with extremely agreeable physical tussles and nothing whatsoever to do with knocking him down a peg or two. ‘In the meantime,’ he added in the same husky tone, ‘I suggest we dance.’
There were too many decisions to be made where Kris was concerned, and none of them easy. Once bitten, twice shy had gone out of the window some time ago, although the dreaded rebound threat continued to niggle at her, but that didn’t stop her standing up as he walked around the table and moving wordlessly into his arms.
CHAPTER SEVEN
IF HE WANTED TO, he could close the deal tonight. His uncle would be pleased. If Theo Kaimos was here now, he would ask—what was Kris waiting for? Here was the bride in need of a groom, the artist in need of a sponsor. Kris needed a wife to provide an heir for Kaimos Shipping and could fund endless scholarships. If Kimmie made that her price for marrying him, he’d pay it gladly. But he didn’t want to take her that way. He didn’t want to take her at all. He wanted Kimmie to come to him of her own free will.
