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She stared at him for a few intense moments which left him utterly convinced that what he needed was a challenge like Kimmie Lancaster in his life, and maybe she needed him just as badly in hers.
‘I’m starting to know you,’ he amended. ‘Others might sell their paintings for personal gain, but not you. In fact, I wish you would.’
‘You can’t change me.’
‘I wouldn’t want to.’
‘If my paintings of you and of Kaimos do sell well, it’s also to my advantage,’ she pointed out frankly. ‘The publicity would be incredible.’
‘And you deserve that sort of break.’
‘How do you know?’ she asked. ‘Maybe you should wait and see what I come up with before you say things like that. It might be rubbish,’ she fired back.
‘I doubt that somehow. Though it does mean we’d have to see each other again,’ he said, acting as if this was a problem.
‘Not necessarily,’ she argued, calling his bluff. ‘You can visit an exhibition without meeting the artist.’
A timely reminder that Kimmie was her own woman—always had been, always would be—and in all honesty he couldn’t blame her. She’d somehow scrambled out of a troubled childhood relatively unscathed, and then she’d tried to ally herself to a man who’d proved totally unworthy of her. It was no wonder that art was her rock now. ‘Do you have a venue in mind for the exhibition?’
‘Not exactly,’ she admitted, ‘but I’ll find somewhere, even if it’s a village hall. The swish London gallery that hosted my last exhibition is usually booked out months in advance. The owners might not consider my next collection, as their preference is for drama and darkness, which was why my childhood retrospective held such strong appeal for them. I created the body of work for my finals at college, never expecting I would sell it to the public, but it’s customary for gallery owners to view the work of students who are leaving college, and I was lucky enough to be taken up.’
‘You say it was dark?’ he queried, remembering with a frown what she’d told him of her early life.
‘Pretty grim, to be honest,’ she admitted, ‘though I think working on it was actually healing for me. I managed to visit all the dark corners in my mind and lay them down on canvas, in the light, for all to see, where they couldn’t do any more harm. I guess lots of people could relate to that, because they sold out right away. Now I’m going to turn from the dark side to making people smile, but that might not go down so well commercially.’
‘You won’t know until you try,’ he commented.
‘True,’ she said, ‘and I’m determined that my next collection will zing with sunshine and happiness so everyone leaves smiling. Life’s hard enough without always hanging the dark side on the wall.’ She shrugged and grinned. ‘We’ll just have to see how this change of direction goes down.’
‘Time for that swim,’ he announced. The more he learned about Kimmie, the more he wanted her, so much so that right now he badly needed cold water and plenty of it.
* * *
Kris’s expression was hidden in shadow. It was so easy talking to him. Too easy, maybe. A man as successful as Kristof Kaimos was hardly likely to be uncomplicated, so why was he devoting so much time to a fledgling artist without a penny to her name and certainly no social standing? Did he have an agenda? If so, what was it? And did things need to go any deeper between them? Couldn’t she just enjoy tonight?
‘Swim first, explore later,’ she confirmed. Why not?
Maybe because Kris’s thumb was already lodged in the back of his top and, as he dragged it over his head, the sight of his naked torso made her heart thunder.
‘Your turn,’ he prompted, shucking off his jeans.
Her limbs were glued in place. Even if she’d still been holding her sketchbook, she doubted she would have the ability to record such perfection.
‘Something wrong?’ he asked casually.
Did he really not know? Kris clearly had no inhibitions.
Would you with a body like that?
Might look a bit odd on me, but...
‘You’re laughing?’ he asked, a hint of outrage in his tone.
‘Not at you. Just at the thought of me getting naked and standing next to you.’
‘We’re not posing for a painting. There won’t be much standing around.’
‘Yes, but you seem to find it really easy...doing the Michelangelo thing, I mean...and I’m just not sure I will.’
‘You wear underwear, don’t you?’
‘None of your business,’ she warned.
‘It will be soon,’ Kris pointed out, grinning.
She swallowed hard as his teeth flashed white in the moonlight. Oh, what the heck? Her underwear was nothing if not respectable. Some might even call it boring. There was a lot to be said for underwear bought in packs of three. It was certainly more concealing than her bikini. Now all she had to do was keep her own gaze under control, and remember not to look at Kris below his non-existent belt.
‘Are you recording the specifics for later consideration?’ he suggested wickedly when she failed miserably to keep her pledge even as she whipped off her dress.
‘It’s important to get the detail right,’ she insisted, tongue firmly lodged in her cheek, while her heart beat at the speed of a hummingbird’s wings as she asked herself for the umpteenth time since meeting Kris: What was she doing here?
‘Of course it is,’ Kris agreed in the same teasing tone.
‘Or I could just go for direct action,’ she threatened. Launching herself at him, she tried to take him down. The pool was just behind him.
Kris didn’t move.
She had badly misjudged her target.
‘Playing games, are we?’ He advanced one silent step at a time.
‘No,’ she warned, holding up her hands as she backed away. ‘I like to get into the pool slowly.’
‘This isn’t your lucky day then, is it?’
She screamed as they hit the pool in tandem.
Things happened so fast after that. Kris’s strong arms were wrapped around her. He was in his depth. She was not. Supporting her in the water, he drove his mouth down on hers.
Yes...yes...yes!
Whatever had happened up to this moment, nothing had ever felt like this. The combination of cold and heat, hard and soft sharpened Kimmie’s awareness to an almost painful degree. The salt of the water and Kris’s minty fresh taste pummelled her senses and so did his hands as they held and supported, touched and caressed. The way he made her feel, everything about him, about this, came together and made sense. Winding her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist seemed the next obvious move and, before she knew it, she was kissing him back.
CHAPTER EIGHT
WHEN HE RAISED his head she was breathless. ‘Don’t ever do that again,’ she gasped. ‘I don’t swim as well as you.’
‘No more kisses,’ Kris agreed.
&n
bsp; ‘That’s not what I meant and you know it.’
He smiled. Deliciously wet and wickedly handsome, he now declared, ‘I don’t know what you’re worried about. I’ll always save you.’
‘I don’t need saving.’
‘Don’t you?’ he whispered. And then he kissed her again, proving her wrong.
She certainly didn’t want to be saved from this situation. After a lifetime of fearing sex because of her mother’s experience at her father’s hands, she felt—no, she knew with utter certainty—that it would be different with Kris. She wanted this incredible night to remember for ever. A feeling had lodged deep inside her that said it would heal her, pleasure her and allow her to know, however briefly, how it felt to be close to someone, to be one with them and to trust again. Closing her eyes, she rejoiced in the strength and beauty of Kris’s body. Enfolded in his arms, she felt so safe. This might be an illusion that only lasted one night but while she had it she’d hold on tight.
‘Hussy,’ Kris mock scolded as she rubbed herself shamelessly against his body. She’d never been so bold before, but her usual behaviour had flown out of the window. ‘You feel amazing over these prim little pants,’ he observed as she groaned openly with pleasure. ‘Plump, warm and inviting,’ he commented in a matter-of-fact tone. She was certainly incapable of speech. ‘Nice?’ he murmured as he caressed her again.
Was he seriously asking that question? Kris could have no idea how good it felt. Mapping her contours over her suddenly thrillingly inadequate pants, he really did have the most intuitive touch.
‘You have no idea,’ she whispered hoarsely.
‘I think I do,’ he argued in a husky tone as streams of honeyed desire surged through her veins.
Encouraging her to relax the grip of her legs around his waist, he held her in the water so she was floating. Allowing her thighs to part a little allowed more intimate touches, she discovered. Being pleasured so skilfully soon had her teetering on the edge. She’d waited so long for this she couldn’t wait any longer. Her body was his to command.
