When he took her in his arms to dance and felt how soft and vulnerable she was beneath the simple cotton dress, he knew that nothing with Kimmie would ever be simple. He wanted things with her he’d never thought about before, like a family of his own and someone to share it with. Was the renowned hard man mellowing, the playboy finally considering settling down? Kimmie was an independent woman with ideas of her own about how to live her life. Could she ever truly fit into his? When and if he married, his wife would have no choice but to fall into line and keep pace with his business agenda. His interests were so vast, and his duty towards the people who depended on him for their livelihoods so vitally important, why was he contemplating marrying a boho bride who marched to such a very different beat?
Kimmie pulled away from him and stared into his face, almost as if she had sensed the track his thoughts were taking. She was so sensitive and they were tuned in to each other so acutely it was uncanny. He pulled her close again and heard her sigh. She knew as well as he did that this dance could be a prequel to sex. Had she come to a decision where that was concerned? His mind once more turned back to the knotty problem of marriage. Surely she could learn to be accepting of privileges he took for granted? Many doors would open for her thanks to the Kaimos name. Money would pour into Kimmie’s scholarship fund as the great and good stood in line to win his favour. Whatever else she did or didn’t agree to, he believed Kimmie would stick doggedly to her pledge to help other young, disadvantaged artists. Whichever way he looked at it, marriage wasn’t such a bad option for either of them. He certainly couldn’t see a downside for Kimmie. It would be win-win all the way for her.
* * *
The instant Kris’s arms closed around her, Kimmie felt like a helium balloon soaring high above the crowd. Every part of her was tuned to him, and she was more aware than she’d ever been that this feeling was unique. No one had ever made her see the world in such sharp focus. Mike had always made her feel as if he was doing her a favour—which he was, she had believed at the time—and she’d been so grateful that his interest had only increased with her growing success. She had tried to show her appreciation in silly ways—a few cartoons for him to hang on the wall of his flat...but he hadn’t wanted them. Another time she’d knitted him a tie, using paintbrushes as her needles. ‘What were you thinking,’ he’d said, ‘imagining I’d wear something like this? But I love you,’ he’d added absently, glancing at the cheque in his hand for one of her paintings. ‘You’re such a clever girl...’
‘Where are you now?’ Kris asked, distracting her out of unwelcome memories.
‘You don’t want to know,’ she said slowly.
‘Maybe I do...’
‘Okay, I’m reviewing what you might call my gullible, desperate period, to use artistic terminology.’
‘And where do you find yourself now?’
‘In my frying pan and fire period,’ she said flippantly.
He laughed and they danced on.
Under the most unusual circumstances, to be sure, but wasn’t this just a holiday romance? Was her judgement any better this time around?
Kris’s embrace tightened as if he sensed her troubled mind. She felt so safe in his arms, and even that was a dangerous temptation.
‘Have you had enough for now?’ he asked.
Unseen, she smiled. Could she start again? It wasn’t that easy for anyone.
‘Would you like to leave?’ he prompted.
‘Sorry, I was away in a world of my own somewhere.’
‘Can I join you?’ Kris murmured.
Maybe her pencil had lied this time when she’d drawn that hard, driven man. Right now Kris seemed so tender and sympathetic. And the humour was back in his eyes...his amazing, beautiful, expressive eyes.
Was she really so naïve? A mere one day on from absolute betrayal and she was walking eagerly into something so big and powerful it was more likely to sweep her off her feet and dump her in a drain than transport her safely back to home shores.
* * *
He drove her back to the beach house. Seeing the property through Kimmie’s eyes was like seeing it for the first time. He relied on agents to find houses for him. Any particular requirements he might have were easily catered for and arranged between one of his PAs and the agency. He’d never had cause to complain before, and neither had anyone else, but Kimmie had clearly thought the place sterile and cold. Could she change it? More importantly, would he let her? Did he want it to be changed? Everything worked. He’d never detected any flaws before.
‘I’m going to see it all this time,’ she said with an air of expectancy.
‘I tremble,’ he teased.
‘No need to tremble,’ she said with a wry shake of her head. ‘I’m sure it’s still every bit as fabulous as I remember.’
‘But too big for one man,’ he reminded her.
‘Did I say that?’ She pressed her lips down, but her eyes were twinkling. ‘How rude of me.’
He smiled, and then she glanced away from him as they drove by his private harbour, where a number of different craft were rising and falling in time to the ocean, dark shadows swaying in time to their own music in the moonlight. ‘Impressive,’ she said.
‘Something else you’d like to paint?’ he guessed.
‘I’m not sure I’ll be here long enough to record everything.’ She paused and turned to look at him. ‘I want to get you down on paper first.’
‘That has to be the first time a woman has ever said that to me,’ he confessed.
‘I don’t want to hear about your other women,’ she reprimanded.
‘I’m duly rebuked. But don’t you have enough sketches of me by now?’
‘Not from every angle, dressed and undressed,’ she admitted with complete frankness.
‘Undressed?’ he exclaimed, taken aback.
‘Why not?’ she said candidly. ‘Life classes were my favourite at college. They say you can judge a book by its cover, but I prefer to remove the dust jacket and get right down to brass tacks.’
‘You might find a lot more than you expected.’
‘I’ll take my chances on that, though understand this, Kris Kaimos,’ she said with a direct look that made him raise an eyebrow. ‘I might be inexperienced when it comes to romance but, as an artist, when it comes to the male form I’ve already seen everything.’
‘Fair enough,’ he said, choosing not to disagree.
‘Last chance for me to take you back to the guest house,’ he warned as they approached the turning, ‘so if you’d rather leave my unveiling for another day, you’d better say now.’
She shot him a glance. ‘Do you want to take me back?’
‘I want to swim,’ he said honestly. Most of all, he didn’t want to rush this.
‘You want to swim?’ she queried with a disbelieving frown.
‘I need to cool down. Something wrong with that?’
‘Nothing, but I thought you were taking me to see the artist’s studio?’
‘Afterwards,’ he said. ‘I promise there’ll be time for everything.’
‘Thanks. As a professional observer, it’s important for me to see where people live, and how they live. The more I learn about you, the more layered your portrait will be.’
‘Oh, forget about that for now. Just paint me while I’m swimming in the water. That will tell you all you need to know.’
‘Power and drive, and getting where you want to go at high speed and as straight as an arrow?’ she suggested.
‘It doesn’t always work out like that.’ Not with Kimmie, certainly. ‘Why don’t you join me for a swim?’
‘I don’t have a costume.’
‘Neither do I,’ he pointed out.
‘Kris Kaimos,’ she said, acting shocked. ‘What are you suggesting?’
‘One of those life classes you mentioned.’
That kept her quiet, and she said nothing more until they reached the side of the pool. The lighting scheme here was genius. It meant she could see clearly, swim naked, and still feel cloaked to some extent in shadow.
‘You’re a very lucky man,’ she remarked in a tone that suggested to him that she was already sketching the scene in her mind. ‘Do you mind me painting some scenes from here when I get home?’ she asked. ‘I mean, if you’d rather keep your home life private, I totally understand.’
‘Generally, I do like to keep it private,’ he admitted, ‘but scenes in isolation could be located anywhere in the world. Surely it’s up to the artist to convey the mood and purpose of a subject, without necessarily revealing its location.’
‘You really get this, don’t you?’ she mused.
‘I get you,’ he countered.
‘You think you do,’ she corrected him quietly.
‘Meaning?’