Treasured by Sherryl Woods

woman’s touch. What time does the shop close?”
    “Five-thirty tonight.”
    “Good. I’ll pick you up at six.” He looked her over. “You might want to wear something you don’t care too much about.”
    “Oh?”
    “If I wind up papering those walls, sweetheart, you won’t be sipping tea. You’ll be right there next to me.”
     
    If he had a hundred years, Ben was pretty confident he wouldn’t be able to explain what had made him ask Kathleen to join him in going to see Destiny. Oh, sure, maybe he’d had some vague notion that Destiny would be more inclined to open up to another woman, but it wasn’t as if Kathleen were a trusted confidante. Melanie or Beth might have been better suited to the task.
    No, he’d acted on impulse, something he never did, not since he’d been involved with Graciela, who’d taken impulsive behavior to an art form. Now he was usually thorough and methodical about just about everything, measuring words and actions, because he couldn’t forget the last time he’d made an impulsive decision, demanded that Graciela leave his home immediately, and she had died because of it.
    But despite his misgivings about the invitation to Kathleen for tonight, he hadn’t called and canceled. It was yet another instance of making a commitment and then being too proud, if not too honorable or too stubborn, to break it. Kathleen already thought he was cowardly when it came to his art. He couldn’t give her another reason to believe that he was scared of her or his feelings for her.
    He considered seeing Destiny first, then picking up Kathleen, but figured that would raise a whole lot of questions that he wouldn’t want to answer, as well. Instead, he drove through the horrendous Washington rush hour traffic to the address Kathleen had given him. He was on her doorstep precisely at six. He reassured himself that it was absolutely not because he was anxious to see her again. He knew artists had a reputation for being forgetful, but punctuality was one of those lessons that had been ingrained in him by his parents even before Destiny had come along to reiterate it.
    When Kathleen opened the door, his mouth gaped. He couldn’t help it. She’d taken his advice to wear old, comfortable clothes to heart, but few women could turn that particular sort of getup into a fashion statement. Kathleen did. The faded, low-slung hip-hugger jeans encased her slender legs like a glove and reminded him all too vividly just how long those exquisite legs were. She was wearing a bulky knit sweater that looked warm enough, except for the full two inches of bare skin it left exposed at her waist.
    “Um,” he began, then swallowed hard. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Aren’t you going to be cold?”
    She grinned. “I was thinking of wearing a coat over this.”
    He nodded, still trying to get the blood that had rushed to other parts of his anatomy to flow back to his brain. “I meant indoors.”
    Her grin spread. “Your aunt doesn’t have heat?”
    Ben sighed and gave up. He wasn’t going to get her into something that covered that enticing skin without point-blank asking her to change, and he would not do that. She’d only demand to know why, just to hear him admit that he could hardly keep his hands or his eyes off her. He’d simply have to suffer and keep a tight rein on his hormones.
    “Let’s get going, then.”
    Kathleen gave him a knowing smirk. “I’ll get my coat,” she said cheerfully.
    On the drive to Destiny’s, Ben finally managed to untangle his tongue long enough to explain their mission to get at the truth about Destiny and this William Harcourt who was interfering in Carlton Industries business.
    “What makes you think I can get her to say anything, when Richard couldn’t?”
    “You’re a woman. Maybe she’ll confide in you, woman-to-woman.”
    “With you sitting there?”
    “I’ll make some excuse and hide out for a little bit,” he said, no doubt sounding a little