An Irresistible Bachelor(33)

"Is that how you met Grace?" Jack asked. "Through the art world?"

Callie hesitated, wishing she was a more confident liar. "You could say we met through the Hall Foundation, yes."

"She speaks highly of you."

"She's been very kind to me."

"Grace is like that. Good person all around."

In a flash, Callie wondered whether Jack and her half sister had ever been together. They seemed perfectly suited.

"She's stunning, too," Callie murmured. "Certainly fits her title."

"I thought she was divorcing the count?"

"I mean about being one of the world's most beautiful women."

With no turn signal, Jack hung a U-turn and then pulled into a parking lot next to the pale, low-slung buildings of the Museum of Fine Arts. He shut the car off and released his seat belt while she stared ahead.

"Callie?"

"What? Oh—right, we're here."

He gave her an odd look as they got out. "You okay?"

"Yeah, sure. I'm fine."

She just wasn't one of the world's most beautiful women and wondered why she suddenly seemed to care one way or the other. God knew, she didn't pay a lot of attention to her looks, usually.

But then Jack was making her think about all kinds of unusual things.

As soon as they were inside the museum, people started coming up to him. He seemed to know everyone by name and the respect with which he was treated spoke volumes about what he and his family must have done for the place.

She and Jack had just emerged from the cloakroom when Mrs. Walker strode into the lobby. She was talking and gesticulating wildly while being trailed by a staff member who was taking notes. Jack's mother was dressed in a black suit and had an exquisite tangle of pearls around her neck. She looked fresh and elegant, as if she'd stepped out of the pages of Vanity Fair. The staff member just looked pooped.

When she came to a halt next to her son, Mrs. Walker waved the minion away with a flick of the wrist. "Have you come to talk with Gerard?"

Callie knew she was referring to Gerard Beauvais, the head of the MFA's conservation department. Callie had heard of the man but never met him. A legend in the art world, he was responsible for conserving the work of some of the most important masters: da Vinci, Rembrandt, Michelangelo.

Jack nodded. "I thought he and Callie should meet."

Mrs. Walker's brows lifted. "Perhaps Ms. Burke will consent to his assistance. Assuming she's open to collaboration."

Callie felt her stomach knot as Jack shot his mother a level stare. "Did I happen to mention that Callie worked with your friend Micheline Talbot on the conservation of the torn de Kooning?"

Mrs. Walker's eyes flickered just enough to show that she did indeed recall the project.

"You remember that painting, Mother. It's at MoMA," Jack prompted smoothly. "You told me that Micheline had gone on and on about how she couldn't have done the job without her assistant. That the young woman was talented as hell and a pleasure to work with, right?"


Callie held her breath, wishing he'd drop the subject.

"Remember. Mother."

"Yes, yes of course. It was an extraordinary result."

"So I think Callie and Gerard will get along just fine."

Mrs. Walker brought a hand up to her hair, smoothing back what was not out of place. "I'm sure you do. Now, if you will excuse me, I'm going home. The executive committee meeting went on longer than it should have and I'm tired."

Callie flushed as Jack's mother walked away. The woman hadn't made eye contact with her at all, as if Mrs. Walker could make her disappear by ignoring her

But Jack had made sure she was noticed. Had stuck up for her.

She glanced at him. His eyes were narrowed as he watched his mother go into the cloakroom.

"That wasn't really necessary," Callie said softly.

"Yes, it was."

"I can take care of myself."

He looked at her. "I have no doubt of that, but my mother is not going to be your problem. Come on, let's go to Gerard's office."

Jack led them past the guard who checked tickets and through an exhibit of African art, to an elevator big enough to park cars in. The thing was huge, its ceiling some eighteen feet high. As they lurched upward, she could feel him staring at her.

"What?" she asked.