An Irresistible Bachelor (An Unforgettable Lady #2)(28)

“Let’s go welcome Nathaniel,” she said to Arthur. The dog pricked his ears, ever ready for an adventure, and happily raced for the stairs.

The deliveryman was opening the van’s rear doors as she came across the driveway. Jack emerged from the house at the same time and she noted that he’d changed into a suit and tie. She tried to remain calm as their eyes met. Predictably, he seemed totally at ease.

The portrait had been shipped in a wooden crate and the cumbersome load was lowered to the ground on a mechanical pallet. After sliding the heavy weight onto a dolly, the deliveryman followed Jack over to the garage. Together, they rolled the painting up the stairs and hefted the crate onto her worktable.

As soon as the other man had left, Jack offered her a hammer. “You want to do the honors?”

She took the tool from him and began to pull out the nails along the crate’s edge. When she’d worked around the perimeter, they lifted off the top together and she pulled back the packing material.

Nathaniel Walker’s beautiful, brooding face was revealed and she couldn’t keep a small sound of pleasure from escaping her lips. She leaned in close to the canvas. With his wavy dark hair and his heavily lidded eyes, he and Jack looked very much alike.

“This is such a remarkable work,” she murmured. “I can almost see him breathing.”

The Revolutionary War leader was seated on a chair, head turned so he was staring out of the painting. He was dressed in a black suit coat and had on a frothy white shirt that came up high on his neck. The silver mirror in his left hand was also facing toward the viewer, a symbol of his work as a glassmaker. His other hand hung off the arm of the chair in an elegant drift of pale skin. The background was dark, practically black, although Callie knew that with proper cleaning it would become less dense.

She reached over to her box of tools and supplies. Strapping on a headset that carried a magnifying glass and a light, she began to scan the surface of the painting, immediately identifying the pattern of craquelure, or small fissures, in the paint. This complex network of fine cracks was expected and confirmed the painting’s age. As she continued her examination, she was able to see that the brushwork was masterly and the colors were blended with confidence. She couldn’t wait to strip off the old layer of varnish that had yellowed and get a real sense of the hues and tones Copley had used.

“You’re really in your element,” Jack said softly.

She looked up, having forgotten for the moment he was even in the room. He had settled against the wall, one foot resting on the toe of a wing tip, arms crossed in front of his chest. A half smile stretched his lips and his eyelids were low, suggesting he’d been deep in thought as he’d watched her.

Feeling vulnerable, she reminded herself that reviewing the painting was part of the job, not a private moment for her. Still, she felt like he’d seen her without her guard up and it made her want to banish him from the garage.

She took the headset off, tossing it into the toolbox. “He looks great and he traveled well. I’d like to go to the MFA now.”

“Sure thing.”

They were heading to the stairs when he stopped. “I’m really happy you’re the one doing this. I like the way you look at him.”

When Jack started walking again, she followed more slowly, intrigued that a man whose world revolved around money had such sentimentality in him.

“Your father’s name was Nathaniel, right?” she asked, taking the banister as she went down the stairs.

“Nathaniel the sixth, as a matter of fact.” He opened a side door into the garage and lights came on automatically as they walked through. Parked inside were two Jaguars, a pickup truck, and some kind of sports car, the likes of which she’d never seen before.

“Why weren’t you the seventh?”

Jack stopped in front of the sports car. “My brother was born before I was. He got the name.”

“I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“He keeps a very low profile.” Jack opened the door for her.

“Now you’ve got me curious.”

She watched him go around to the driver’s side, a smile on his face. “Nate’s a great guy, but he’s got a bad case of wanderlust. I don’t get to see him half as much as I’d like.”

She slid into the car and felt like the seat had been custom fit to her body. Impressive, she thought. “What does he do?”

“He’s a chef.” Jack got behind the wheel.

“You sound proud of him.”

“I am.”

The doors shut with a muted sound and she breathed deeply as she put on her seat belt.

“Hmmm. I love the way this car smells. All this leather . . . It’s beautiful. What kind is it?”

“An Aston Martin DB9.”

The engine came to life in a deep growl that faded to a soft purr. As they headed down the drive, Mozart filled the air and she stroked the butter-soft hand rest.

One minute later she was gripping the damn thing for dear life.

After screaming down Cliff Road, Jack shot into traffic on Route 9 and proceeded to dodge around other cars like he was playing a video game. The man was a menace behind the wheel and Callie thought the only saving grace was that the sports car probably had top-of-the-line air bags and plenty of them.

As they swerved around a truck, she looked over at Jack in alarm. He was calm, whistling under his breath with the music.