An Irresistible Bachelor (An Unforgettable Lady #2)(42)

Because she obviously couldn’t trust herself. And if she let Jack kiss her again, if she let him touch her body, God forbid if she let him make love to her, she was bound to start confusing the intense physical sensations with emotions. Wasn’t that what the naive always did and why first loves were so painful? If her heart got involved, she’d feel a hell of a lot worse than sexually frustrated.

Hell. If.

She had a feeling it was too late for if. The man captivated her with all of his contradictions, with his hard shell and his soft touch. He was like no one she’d ever met and not because he was rich and powerful.

But he was never going to be hers.

With a deep breath, Callie set the watch back where he’d left it, trying desperately not to get lost in the thoughtful gesture.

Staring at the painting, she attempted to find the appropriate enthusiasm for the adventure she was about to embark on, but it was a while before she was ready to get started.

With the documentation finished, her next step was to strip off the dirt and the old varnish layer. First, she needed to determine what kind of varnish had been applied and choose a solvent that would be strong enough to remove the protective coat but not so intense as to take off any of the paint layer. She was going to use the lower left-hand corner to do the testing, in an area that would be covered by the frame.

When she’d finally gotten into bed the night before, she’d reviewed the painting’s records one more time. The varnish had been applied in the early 1930s, at the time of the last cleaning, and this meant it was made of natural compounds. Nothing synthetic would have been used back then and she’d come prepared with chemicals that were appropriate to remove a tree-sap-based resin.

She had six different solvents of graduated strength and she picked out the weakest one, opening the lid and releasing the familiar sweet, chemical smell. Before she set to work, she opened two windows a couple of inches to make sure that Artie would have plenty of fresh air. Strapping on her breathing apparatus, which would filter the vapors as she worked so closely over the solvent, she plucked a wooden stick from the can and wrapped a small amount of cotton around one end. She dipped the bud, as it was known, into the solution and gently brushed over the canvas. She wasn’t surprised when there was little effect and moved up a grade.

After considering the effect of the stronger solvent, she went back to her jars and readjusted the strength one more time to settle on the perfect composition to dissolve the varnish layer safely. She was careful to document the chemical compounds she tried out, noting when she had reached the right balance.

And when she had, she ventured out onto the painting proper. Whenever the bud became too dirty, she disposed of it in a sealed jar, wound another one on the stick and kept going. This was the part of her job that she loved the most. The quiet, the intense focus on such a small area, the delicate work, the solitude. It gave her peace, focusing her mind while she used her hands. The world and her problems faded into the distance, no longer crashing cymbals, not even a whisper.

It was just her and the painting.

While she worked, her eyes traveled over the portrait intermittently. She was learning the landscape of the masterpiece, the vast darkness around Nathaniel’s head, the dense grays and deep blacks of his jacket, the frothy cream and white of his shirt. His tormented, handsome face was her favorite part. She was enchanted with the faint blush of pink across the cheekbones, the dark velvet of his pupils, the thick browns and blacks of his hair.

It was quite possible she’d be in love with him by the end of the project, she thought, looking into the eyes again.

They were so like Jack’s.



A couple of hours later, the quiet of the studio was broken.

“Hello?” Thomas’s voice barreled through the silence. “Mind if I come up?”

“Hi! You’re always welcome.”

She got up, as did Arthur. The dog had been a patient observer throughout the morning, and as he put his front paws out and lowered his shoulders in a big stretch, he looked as if he had high hopes for the man’s arrival.

“I’ve brought you lunch,” Thomas said as he clomped up the stairs. He was carrying a picnic basket and a phone jack.

Arthur loped over to him, ignoring the wire and sniffing the wicker. His wagging tail suggested he was touched by the gesture.

“That’s awfully nice of you,” Callie said, accepting the food and frowning as Thomas got down on his hands and knees under her table. “But you didn’t have to. Er—Is something wrong?”

“Just hooking up a phone for you.” His head popped up and he nodded at the basket. “Would you mind? It’s in there.”

She laughed and took out a small cordless unit. “But I don’t really need one.”

“Jack called this morning. He wants me to install one for you.”

“Oh.”

When Thomas was finished connecting the wires, he checked for a dial tone. “You’re all set. Now, I’ve got a message from Jack for you. He wanted to know if you’d meet him in Little Italy for dinner tonight. At seven, at Nico’s.”

Nico’s. At seven. Her heart skipped a beat.

At least they wouldn’t be alone. Restaurants had people in them. Lots of other people.

“Okay.”

“And don’t worry about getting there. I’ll drive you. Hey, can I look at what you’re doing?”