An Irresistible Bachelor (An Unforgettable Lady #2)(17)

As he let himself in the house, he called out, “Callie? Hello?”

When there was no answer, he put his briefcase down and walked through the living room to the library, then through the den and the solarium. Lights were on in all the rooms, but she was nowhere to be found. When he got back to the front hall, he looked up the stairs and wondered if he should go hunting for her among the guest rooms.

A picture of her in one of his beds brought up images he was determined not to dwell on and he was debating the merits of going upstairs to find her when he realized something was missing. Where was Arthur? The dog was usually waiting at the door for him.

Jack headed to the kitchen. Next to the sink, a bowl, plate, and fork had been carefully washed and left to dry, so he knew for sure she was in the house. No one else would have left dishes out like that. His mother rarely set foot in the kitchen and certainly never cleaned up after herself. The staff had the day off and Elsie would have gone home to have dinner with her own family.

He was resigning himself to a search of the guest rooms when Arthur came down the back stairs.

“What are you doing up there?” He bent down as the dog ambled over in his heavy way.

“He was with me.”

Jack’s head shot up.

Callie was standing at the foot of the stairs, wearing jeans and a navy blue fleece pullover. Her hair was all around her shoulders and he stared into her eyes, testing once again whether he had the color right, whether they really were that beautiful blue.

They were.

Before the silence continued for too long, he said, “I’m sorry I’m so damn late.”

She shrugged. “Artie and I have had a fine evening, although I suspect he’d have preferred my dinner be a little less leafy. He doesn’t seem to be a big fan of salad.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed as he assessed her mood. She really didn’t seem perturbed. She’d been perfectly happy in an unfamiliar house all by herself, with just his dog as company.

So all that independence wasn’t just an act, he thought.

“Are you already setting up your workshop?” he asked, nodding at the stairs. “I thought being over the garage would suit you better, but if you’d rather be in the house, that’s fine, too.”

Her brows lifted. “Actually, I’ve been reading about Copley and trying not to fall asleep before you got home.”

He gave Arthur a sound pat on the ribs and straightened.

“So what are you doing in the staff quarters?”

“That’s where my room is.”

Jack frowned. “What the hell—” He stopped himself. He didn’t have to ask who’d put her up there. “You are not staying in the staff wing.”

And he and his mother were going to have a little talk in the morning.

Callie pushed her hands into her pockets. “I’m quite comfortable up there.”

“Don’t be absurd.” He started toward the stairs. “Let’s move your things.”

She raised her hands. “Look, I really don’t care. All I need is a place to sleep.”

“How can you say that? I’ll bet the last time you stayed in a room like that was back in prep school.”

“I didn’t go to prep school,” she countered softly.

Jack stopped, frowned again, and then kept going. “Whatever. Come on, let’s go.”

He strode past her, thinking his mother’s ability to stick her nose into things was unparalleled.

When he got to the head of the narrow stairs, he headed for the open door. “Where are your clothes?”

As she came into the room, she gave him a steady look. “In the drawers.”

He glanced over at the small dresser. “Where else?”

“Nowhere else.” She went and opened a drawer, gesturing over the shirts and sweaters that were neatly folded. “Just here.”

Well, this was a new one, Jack thought.

He was used to women who needed a moving van to go away for the weekend. She was staying for a month and a half and her things fit in three drawers.

“You’re a light packer.”

She shrugged. “I don’t need much.”

“What about your tools?”

“In the closet.”

“So let’s pack you up,” he said impatiently.

She regarded him evenly, as if weighing the inconvenience of moving against having to deal with him, and then she went over to the closet and took out a battered Samsonite suitcase that surprised the hell out of him. He’d have expected a Louis Vuitton matched set or even a bunch of Coach bags. Instead, her piece of luggage was ancient, orange, and looked as if it had seen a lot of cargo holds.

As he watched her move her clothes around, he realized something.

Whatever her relationship was with Grace, wherever that Chanel suit had come from, Callie didn’t have much money. The things being taken out of the dresser were clean and serviceable, but inexpensive. There wasn’t a lick of couture in sight.

When she was finished, he couldn’t keep his voice from becoming gentle. “Do you have everything?”

Her eyes rose to his and narrowed, as if she’d caught the change in tone and would have preferred if he’d stayed impatient. After nodding with a strong chin, she picked up the suitcase and a wooden box covered with paint smudges, and headed out the door.