An Irresistible Bachelor(7)

The cool glance she shot him wasn't encouraging and he felt himself gearing up for a lively negotiation. Which was just fine with him. He loved a good barter, whether it was over a company, a stock position, or a piece of art. The tougher the battle, the sweeter the reward when he won.

She walked up the stone steps, not even looking at him as she passed. "I told you, I'm not interested."

"I find that hard to believe," he said sharply. "Considering the way you stared at that portrait. "

As she turned around, he knew she was itching to get rid of him and her impatience made him want to pull up a chair and hang around for a while.

Tm not right for the job."

"Then you have a low opinion of your capabilities."

"It has nothing to do with my skills." She brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes.

"Come on, you're dying to work on that painting."

She got out her keys and pivoted away again. "I'm not prepared to take the assignment. Thank you."

She was putting her hand on the doorknob when he took the steps two at a time and reached out for her arm. The moment he touched her, he felt her stiffen through the sleeve of her coat.

"Let go of me. Please."

As she refused to meet his eyes, he grew curious.

"Tell me, what have I done to earn this animosity?" He dropped his hand and threw her a smile.

"You show Up uninvited on my doorstep," she retorted. "I've told you no and you're still standing here. You're obviously prepared to pressure me into working for you for reasons that I can't begin to guess at. Why should I welcome you cheerfully?''

"Are you always this wary?"

"When things don't make sense to me, yes."

"So how's my offering you the job of a lifetime senseless?"

"Because I don't believe in miracles."

"Atheist?"

"Realist."

Jack grinned. He liked her resistance, even more so because he could tell she wasn't nearly as tough as she was pretending to be. Her face might have been composed but those eyes of hers were bouncing around, touching on his face, the top knot of his tie, the width of his shoulders.

"I think you can do the work."

"Based on what? You must be a quick study because we've only met once before."

"I'm considered to be pretty astute."

Her head tilted to the side, as if she were waiting for him to prove it.

He shrugged. "I know you graduated at the top of your class, with highest honors, from NYU's master's program in conservation. That's a damn good indicator of interest and aptitude. I know your professors liked you and thought you had talent and a willingness to work. I also understand you interned under Micheline Talbot and Peter Falcheck on some very complicated, high-profile projects."

Her eyes skipped away to the front door of her building. She was no doubt eager to put those keys in her hand to good use. "How did you find out all that?"

"The! head of your former department holds the Walker Chair in Art History. He was amazingly forthcoming." Her lips pursed. "Anyway, I took that track record, thought about the way you looked at my ancestor, and came to the conclusion that as someone early on in her career, you might appreciate a shot at the big leagues. That's pretty sound reasoning, don't you think?"

The strand of hair was back in her face again, blowing into her eye. She pushed it away, obviously aggravated.

"Listen, Mr. Walker, your new acquisition is an extraordinary piece of history. One wrong decision or badly executed maneuver and the loss would be monumental."

"Scared?" he taunted mildly. As she stiffened, he smiled. He was more than willing to use her pride to his advantage.

"Of course I’m not scared. But you need someone—”


"So if you're qualified, interested, and able, that means only one thing."

"What's that?"

"You have another reason for turning me down. What could it be, I wonder?"

"I don't like you," she blurted. As soon as the words came out, her cheeks reddened even more. "What I mean is—”

He laughed. "You don't know me well enough to dislike me."

"I'm not so sure about that," she muttered. "I don't tolerate playboys all that well."

His smile faded. "What makes you think I'm a playboy?"