Second Chances (5 page)

The full moon in the indigo colored sky had lost its magic. Finally, the music from the activity inside the hall registered from across the street, and the chill of the cool breeze playfully tossed her hair.

Had he been thinking the same thing as her? Masking her inner torment, she shivered. The magic that sizzled between them had vanished in the silence following her question about David’s feelings about his fiancé.

Reality had crept in on them. Kristin couldn’t control her shivering.

David turned around and must have seen her. He laid his hand lightly on her back. “You’re cold. We should go back inside.”

Kristin shook her head. “I’m fine. You should go back in, though, and enjoy the rest of your evening with Sophie. I need to head home anyway.”

This whole “starting over” thing hurt more than she imagined, even if she was just testing the waters, learning to connect to someone, anyone, for the first time in years. Anyone. That’s who David was, right?

She needed time to think, to sort out the muddled mess inside her head and her heart.

David opened his mouth and closed it, as if he wanted to say something, but then just turned and walked back toward the party.

He didn’t say goodbye. Her insides sank as she watched him go. Just before he crossed the street he turned back and walked toward her.

“David—”

He removed the red rose from his buttonhole and gently pressed the flower into her palm. His touch lingered a bit too long. Her pulse quickened as he stepped even closer and leaned close until his breath mingled with hers.

Was he going to kiss her? Kristin prayed silently that he would. She wanted his full, perfect lips pressed to hers in full blown desire. The fire smoldering within those chocolate-brown eyes reached into her and she was sure he wanted her as well, wanted to crush her against him and capture her lips with hers.

Instead, David clasped her other hand, brought it to his face, and brushed his lips lightly against her knuckles.

“Good night, Miss Shepherd,” he whispered, before he let go of her hand, turned, and walked away.

Kristin, her hand still in the air, stood unmoving and simply stared after him. How could she feel a certain sadness that the night had ended and fear that her new life had just began all at the same time? Her gaze dropped to the red rose in her hand.

He had worn it for her, she just didn’t know how she knew or why he’d done it.

She leaned against the cold railing and stared out over the shimmering river. If Kristin could summon the courage to have another relationship, it would be more than a fling, and a fling was all she could have with David.

Part of her wanted to forget this crazy fantasy of anything happening with this man, but her heart and her body had other needs. She danced very close to the edge of a cliff, and if she wasn’t careful, she would fall. And falling for an unavailable, engaged man her first time out after all these years would not be a good thing to do.

Sighing heavily, Kristin turned back toward the gala and froze. A woman stared at her from across the street. Sophie Miller’s arms were crossed in front of her and even at this distance Kristin could see the daggers of hate in her eyes.

Cold panic twisted around her heart, as Sophie uncrossed her arms and sashayed across the street. Sophie’s mouth twisted into a grim line, and her demeanor appeared less than pleased. The actress’ heels clicked against the pavement in determination. She stopped a few steps in front of Kristin, her hands balled into fists at her sides.

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” Sophie’s eyes glinted like blue steel in the moonlight.

“Excuse me?” Kristin forbade herself to tremor as she faced the furious actress.

Sophie’s jaw set rigidly as she scowled down at Kristin, using the extra inches of height to her best advantage. “I want to know what you were doing with my fiancé.” Her voice was deliberately even, although Kristin could hear the anger tightly seething in a ball just under the surface.

Kristin took an involuntary step sideways, away from the wrath in Sophie’s gaze. If looks could kill, Kristin would be a goner. “We were only talking, Sophie. Just talking, nothing more.” Kristin’s throat went dry as she nervously fingered the rose in her hand that David had given her.

Sophie’s eyes flickered briefly to Kristin’s twitching fingers and narrowed into fine points of blue-gray fury. The actress grabbed Kristin’s wrist and pried open her fingers, snatching the red rose.

Kristin didn’t struggle and placed the shaking hand on her chest. The cold imprint of Sophie’s claws could still be felt.

Sophie’s body trembled with what Kristin assumed to be rage as the actress glanced at the rose clutched in her hand, then returned her gaze to Kristin’s. Too startled to move, Kristin stared back into those icy pools of danger. Understanding of where the flower had come from was etched across Sophie’s features.

Lifting her hand in front of Kristin’s face, Sophie’s fingers closed around the flower, crushing the delicate petals within her grasp.

Kristin watched in wide-eyed horror as what was left of the flower floated to the ground to land in a discarded pile. What in the world, had Kristin gotten herself into? The ferocity of the maniac in front of her swept through every fiber of Kristin’s being.

Sophie brushed her hands off then took a step forward so that she was inches from Kristin. “Stay away from David. He. Is. Mine.” She emphasized the last three words with a finger pointed at Kristin’s chest.

The enraged actress scowled at her and turned without waiting for Kristin’s reaction. Sophie walked back to the gala, disappearing inside the building as quickly as she had appeared.

Kristin leaned back against the railing as the sound of her pounding heart filled her ears. She closed her eyes and silently willed the trembling of her limbs to cease.

“What the hell?” As Kristin’s body finally stopped shaking, the fear gave way to guilt that washed over her in waves. Of course, Sophie would be furious, finding another woman alone with her fiancé. But still, the actress’ reaction…seemed a little over the top. Sophie hadn’t even given Kristin a chance to explain.

Sophie definitely would do anything to get what she wanted. And what she wanted was, obviously, for Kristin to stay away from David.

Kristin shook her head to clear it and opened her eyes. She started to walk slowly back toward the gala, but stopped. Not sure why, Kristin knelt down and picked up a rose petal and put it in her purse.

As unsettling and a little terrifying as that encounter was, she was determined to put it from her mind. What she needed now was a nice hot bubble bath to help her forget David McDougal or Sophie Miller ever existed.

Chapter Three

Kristin leaned her elbows on the large mahogany desk in her office at the gallery.

The figures that stared back at her from her computer screen swam before her tired eyes. She had worked for hours to balance the numbers so she could find the money she needed for the gallery. Her mind reeled from trying to make the business a go.

The vendor that usually extended her credit for printing invitations and advertisements had called her yesterday and notified her they could no longer accommodate that need. That meant she had to procure the funds to advertise a show opening before any of the pieces sold.

With a groan, she turned the monitor off and cradled her head in her hands.

It had been a week since her encounter with David McDougal at the Royal Festival Hall, but she had yet to put his warm touch and caressing eyes out of her mind. Sleep had been fleeting, and her mind refused to give her peace enough to rest. One good thing had come out of thisher creative need to pour her emotions out.

She had been a budding artist before she and James had moved to England, but as his health had declined, so had her passion for her art. After his death, when she had moved and opened the gallery, she had erected an artist’s studio in her new apartment, but it had rarely been used.

It was as if James had taken all her drive and inspiration with him when he died. The past few days, had been different. Kristin found when she couldn’t sleep, that she had an intense desire to draw and paint again.

Like something inside her that had been sleeping finally awoke and demanded her soul. The joy of carrying a sketchbook in her bag again made her think about her school days.
The freedom of youth
.

Thinking about it, she stooped and tugged her bag out from under her desk. Rummaging around inside, she found her sketchbook. It was the same book she had carried with her in college, the worn edges and papers loosely stuffed in the back were comforting like an old friend.

Flipping through the pages, she found it. The face she had tried so vehemently to forget stared deliciously at her. The eyes haunted her thoughts and tormented her dreams.

She hadn’t set out to draw him, the pencil just guided itself across the paper. The image captured his luscious physical charms perfectly, his dark powerful eyes, straight Roman nose, and full lips.

On the Thames, she had watched him run his fingers through his hair, mussing it boyishly, and so she’d drawn his hair slightly ruffled. At first, the pencil in her hand was awkward as she attempted to draw again after years of avoiding it. But the awkwardness evolved into a familiar ease, and her movements ebbed and flowed like a well choreographed dance, bringing his image to life on the paper.

Kristin sighed and traced the line of his strong jaw with her fingertip. Time to face facts. The word “obsession” flashed through her mind like a warning, and twisted with the fear she faced when thoughts of her baby steps toward trust surfaced.

Kristin shut the book abruptly, forced it into her bag, and then laid her forehead on her desk with a dull thud.

“Miss Shepherd?”

Kristin jumped and raised her head quickly to see her employee and friend, Celia Tate, standing in the doorway of her office. Kristin envied Celia’s model-like figure and sleek, short dark hair. Amusement was shining in her green eyes as she smiled at Kristin’s being caught off guard. Usually, she was on top of everything.

“Kristin, are you okay?” Celia whispered, still holding onto the door knob.

Celia’s business expertise and keen eye for seeking out the right art pieces for the gallery had become a critical element to the success of the business. Celia shared Kristin’s passion for providing an outlet for artists to find new ways of expressing themselves.

Shaking off the images of David that had clouded her mind, Kristin shot a confused look at Celia. “Yes…hey wait. What’s this ‘Miss Shepherd’ business? It’s just us here.”

Celia walked towards Kristin’s desk, leaned down, and lowered her voice. “Actually, Miss Shepherd,” Celia emphasized each syllable while her head gestured toward the office door. “There is a gentleman here to see you. I told him he should make an appointment, but he insisted you knew him.”

Puzzled, Kristin stood and straightened her clothes. She took a quick glance in the mirror on the wall and tried to smooth her hair, which had been haphazardly pulled back from her face with a barrette earlier that morning. Not expecting anyone, her curiosity was peaked, especially since it was close to closing time for the gallery.

Kristin steeled her shoulders, letting her financial and personal problems fall away. She followed Celia back toward the reception lobby, and stopped dead in her tracks.

Standing in the lobby was none other than David McDougal. His back toward her as he bent forward, engrossed in examining some of the art hanging on the lobby walls.

The dark dress slacks curved over every sinewy muscle of his tight body and a silk, royal blue shirt fit snugly across his strong shoulders. Quickly, she tore the barrette out of her hair and ran her fingers through it, trying to make herself look more presentable. Who was she kidding, she wanted to feel more sexy. Her hand froze in mid-air. What if Sophie was here with him? Slowly, she lowered her arm and looked around the entire gallery letting go of the breath she had been holding.
No maniac fiancé
.

Kristin gathered every ounce of strength she had to try to appear cool and unaffected. There was no reason whatsoever for him to know the extent of his power over her. She smiled back amiably.

“Kristin, we should be using first names by now. Call me David.” That voice of his was so easy on the ears. She would never get it out of her head.

“Very well…David.”

Amusement flickered in his eyes as she stood mutely and stared at him uncomfortably. Kristin finally broke the silence. “Uh…was there something I can do for you?”

He seemed lost for a moment as he didn’t answer her right away. Even without the fancy suit, or the dress kilt, he exuded raw sexuality.

“What?” He blinked rapidly, startled out of his reverie. “Oh, yes. Yes, there is. I am interested in purchasing some art.”

His matter-of-fact tone didn’t match the dark desire in his eyes. Kristin doubted if that was the true reason for his visit. She arched her eyebrows and tilted her head to the side.

“You want to buy some art?” With the dozens of galleries here in London, he had ended up in hers? Was he aware of how unlikely that bit of chance seemed to her?