An Irresistible Bachelor (5 page)

The man made her nervous, but then, why wouldn't he? He was offering her something she wanted badly. He was rich and that meant he had power. And she sensed that he was the type who got whatever he wanted out of life—even if someone else paid for it. Which pretty much described her father in a nutshell.

Mostly, though, it was because when she was standing in front of him, she felt like someone had hooked a pair of jumper cables to her toes.

He was right. She wanted to work on his painting. Desperately.

But turning him down
was
the right thing to do. Her financial straits put her in a position of vulnerability, of wanting to believe in miracles because she was in need of one. Coming home to him and the job offer of a lifetime just seemed too good to be true.

Or maybe she was making excuses. Maybe she
was
a little scared to tackle something like that portrait on her own. And maybe her attraction to him was just one more hazard in a minefield of complications.

She put his card in her coat pocket, the one that didn't have the hole in it, and checked her mailbox. After taking out two overdue bills, she walked up the six flights to her apartment. The stairwell smelled of Indian cooking from the family who lived on the first floor, and turpentine from the artist who lived on the second. As she opened the door to her studio, the dog across the hall started yapping and its owner, a frail, older woman, chastised him in her surprisingly hardy voice.

Callie shut the door and leaned back against the wood. She could hear the shower dripping in the bathroom.

Taking off her coat, she went over to her bed and sat down at the foot of it. She looked at the bureau she'd bought for fifty bucks and painted herself, the carpet remnant she'd commandeered from Stanley when he'd redone his office, and the bedside table made of cement blocks and a piece of wood.

Where the old TV had been.

Then she glanced over to her closet, at the Chanel pantsuit hanging from the top of the door. From across the room, the jacket's buttons glowed gold in the light, the two linked Cs on them clearly visible. The thing looked as out of place as that limousine had in front of her building.

The suit was Grace's. Callie had been soaked the day they'd first met and Grace had lent it to her. Letting herself flop back on the bed, she figured the cost of the thing could probably cover the gap in her rent and keep a roof over her head for two months.

After an hour, she grew cold and curled on her side, pulling her blanket over her legs. As she stared across the shallow expanse of her room, she hoped the solution to her problems would come.

And that it wouldn't involve Jack Walker.

It was sometime around four a.m. when she made up her mind to take the job. The deciding factor wasn't money, although that did play a role. The Walker portrait was just too enticing, and if she turned down the opportunity because of a lack of faith in her abilities or a hyperbolic reaction to some man, she'd never forgive herself.

Having come to a decision, she had plans to make. First of all, she'd need help. Fortunately, she still had good relationships with her professors at NYU, and if she got into trouble with the conservation, she could always turn to them. She was also willing to bet she could ask for some work space and use one of their microscopes. Supplies would be covered in the cost of the project, so she wouldn't have to worry about out-of-pocket expenses, and she was pretty damn sure none of Jack Walker's checks would bounce.

As for him, she wasn't going to see him much at all, hopefully no more than once when he dropped the painting off and then again when he came to pick it up after she was finished. Maybe he'd show up for a visit in between to monitor her progress.

Surely she could handle that amount of interaction.

In a flash, she pictured him as he'd leaned forward, in that crazy moment when she could have sworn he was going to kiss her.

Maybe
she could handle seeing him that often.

Callie stayed awake until the sun came up, thinking about the things she needed to buy or borrow. After she'd finally formulated a way to make all the pieces fit together, she called his office number and was surprised when the phone was answered by a secretary, even though it was the weekend.

When she gave her name, the woman said, “Oh, good. He's been waiting for you.”

Music came over the line, something classical and rather grand. Callie managed to swallow even though her mouth was dry.

“Good morning, Ms. Burke.” Walker's smooth, gently mocking voice came through the phone and went right down her spine.

“I'll do it.”

There was a soft laugh of satisfaction and then he was all business. “Fine. Let's meet, ten o'clock, at the Plaza.”

She frowned, looking down at his card. “I thought you were in Boston.”

“No, still here. Ten o'clock? We'll meet in my suite.” When she hesitated, he said drily, “If it makes you more comfortable, I'll get a chaperone. And I'll make sure the bondage masks and the handcuffs are put away.”

She gripped the phone. “Very funny.”

Callie wrote down the name of his suite and hung up the phone, her heart racing. When she put her hand on her chest and felt buttons, she looked down at herself. She'd slept in her clothes.

Well, not really slept.

Debating the wisdom of what she'd agreed to do, she went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. As she stripped, she considered critically the black pants, white button-down, and black sweater she'd inadvertently used for pajamas. They were modest, nondescript. There was only more of the same in the closet.

She wished she had something chic to wear when she met with him. A getup that would help give her some of the backbone she was going to need when she sat across from the man and tried to pretend she was every bit as sophisticated as he was.

She peered out at the Chanel suit and smiled, figuring Grace probably wouldn't mind if she threw that puppy on one more time.

CALLIE WAS right on time when she walked into the Plaza Hotel. The first thing she did when she got inside was take off her coat and fold it so that the satin lining, and not the furry outside, showed. After she found the elevators, she took one high up into the building and stepped out into a lofty hallway. A series of brass signs on the wall helped her find her way.

As she was walking along, a blond woman in a sleek red suit and matching coat approached in a wave of perfume. The blonde's hair was cropped short, emphasizing her carved cheekbones and tilted eyes, and her jewelry was discreet but expensive. The woman looked over and smiled with a nod.

Callie mimicked the cool upward tip of the chin, thinking she'd have to remember the gesture, and kept going. A little farther down, she stopped in front of a set of double doors marked “Greenough Suite.”

She raised her hand to knock, but a voice stopped her. “Are you looking for Mr. Walker?”

Callie turned around. A maid holding a set of towels was looking at her with pleasant inquiry.

“Yes, I am.”

“He went out about an hour ago. He should be back soon, but I can't let you in.”

“That's okay. I'm happy to wait out here.”

After the maid left, Callie leaned against the wall, cradling her coat in her hands. She was thinking about what she would say when she saw him and remembered the woman in the red suit. How would someone like her greet Jack Walker?

Whatever the words, they would undoubtedly strike the perfect note. Just like the woman's clothes and hair had.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” As she jerked at the sound of Walker's voice, she let out a squeak she could have done without. “Didn't mean to sneak up on you.”

She opened her mouth, but any cogent thought stalled as she took a good look at him. The black T-shirt and running shorts were a surprise. And so was the sheen of sweat over his skin.

But his body was what really got her attention.

My God, she thought. He was an athlete under those expensive suits.

The man's shoulders were wide and solid and his arms showed a heavy network of veins and muscle. She couldn't help but glance farther down and noted that his stomach was as flat as the wall she was leaning against and his thighs were corded with strength. He looked like some kind of well-made machine, all superb working parts that had just passed a rigorous test down on the streets of New York.

Callie looked away, aware she was staring. “Would you like me to come back in a half hour?”

“Why?” He opened the door.

“So you can, er, get ready.”

“Don't worry. I'm fast with a bar of soap.”

Now, there was an image she could do without.

“Are you coming in,” he prompted as she stalled in the doorway, “or are we going to do this in the hall?”

She kicked her chin up and brushed past him.

As she stepped into the suite, her feet slowed. It was a palace, room after room of cream and gold with mahogany furniture and thick swaths of brocade drapes. She could see a dining room, a sitting room, and a bar. In a far corner, there were a couple of other doors that probably led into bedrooms.

“I've ordered us breakfast,” he said as he sauntered across an Oriental rug that complemented both the pale walls and the dark furniture. “If they come, will you let them in?”

She nodded and put her coat down on a chair.

When she heard a door shut, she started to study the suite in earnest. She figured she might as well take a good long look because she didn't know when she'd be in a hotel room like this again. A flash of color caught her eye. Lying on the glossy surface of a side table was a woman's scarf and next to it were a pair of heavy gold earrings. Callie walked over for a better look. They were beautiful, expensive things and it was easy to imagine the kind of woman they belonged to.

She was willing to bet whoever it was didn't have a hole in the pocket of
her
coat.

Were they his girlfriend's? His lover's?

Or was he married? No, that would have made it into the papers.

Once again, she thought about him reaching out and touching her hair the night before. Remembering the way she'd felt, she found the stories about all those women floating in and out of his bedroom totally believable. In that moment as he'd come toward her, his eyes hooded and fixed on her lips, his broad body throwing off waves of heat even through his clothes, she'd had no interest in turning away. She'd been ready to put her hands on those shoulders and pull him to her.

Which proved that he was dangerously attractive and she was clearly out of her mind.

A soft bell chimed and she crossed the room to let in the waiter delivering their breakfast. She stood to the side and watched as he set up a spread on the dining room table. Silver, crystal, porcelain plates, and heavy linens were arranged with precise, efficient movements. The guy was in and out in less than ten minutes and he didn't hover for a tip, which was a good thing; she had little to offer him.

Grateful for something to do, Callie sat down at the table and poured herself some coffee. She was lifting the china cup to her mouth when Walker came back into the room.

“Good. I'm starved.”

Her hand twitched and some coffee landed on her plate in a brown puddle. She muttered a curse and debated about whether to clean it up while he sat across the table from her.

“Do I make you that nervous?” Walker said in his deep voice.

She glanced up without meeting his eyes. His hair was damp and his crisp white business shirt was open at the collar, revealing the skin of his throat. She smelled his aftershave, something subtle and expensive.

Yes,
she thought.

“No,” she said. “Does that disappoint you?”

He smiled. “Now, why would I want to make you uncomfortable?”

He poured himself some coffee and then picked up a basket of breads and pastries and offered it her. She hesitated.

“Not eating?” he prompted.

She snatched a cinnamon and raisin bagel before realizing what she'd picked. She hated raisins, but she wasn't putting it back—that was for sure.

He put a muffin on his plate and ladled some cut fruit out of a silver bowl. “I'm glad you're coming to work for me.”

“I'm looking forward to it,” she said from behind her coffee cup.

“Really?” he drawled, starting to eat. “You still seem conflicted.”

“How's that?”

“You haven't looked me in the eye yet.”

Callie frowned and forced herself to meet his steady gaze. She noticed flecks of green and yellow in the hazel depths staring back at her.