Chapter 7
Callie came awake with a jerk. She had the eerie sense she was being watched, and when she rolled over, she ran into a furry face and a lolling pink tongue.
"What the—”
Bolting upright, it took her a moment to remember where she was and that Arthur had stayed with her during the night. His tail wagged shyly, as if he was dismayed and a little hurt by her reaction.
She leaned forward and put her hands under his ears. "Sorry, Artie. I'm not used to waking up next to a man."
His tail went back and forth with a wider sweep as he rose on his hind legs and put the upper half of himself on the bed. As she rubbed his chest, she looked out the windows. By the pale gray in the sky, she guessed it was probably around seven.
"I imagine you want to go out." She didn't have a lot of experience with dogs, but figured his visit to the bed wasn't just a social call.
She was pulling on her jeans when she heard a knock at the door.
When she opened it and Jack was on the other side, she had her second jolt of the morning. He looked sexy as hell. His hair was still damp, the dark waves thick and shiny, and he had on a black sweater and blue jeans. The casual clothes looked good on him.
But what wouldn't, she thought, eyeing the span of his chest.
He smiled and leaned against the door frame. "Good morning."
"Yes?" she said, aware that she was staring and unable to help it.
"I've come for my dog."
"Ah—he's right here." Obligingly, Arthur appeared in the doorway.
"Did he keep you awake? He chases groundhogs in his dreams a lot."
Callie shook her head and tried not to smile, thinking if she felt more comfortable with the man, she might have asked how he knew they were groundhogs. "I sleep through anything."
"Good trait to have."
The conversation stalled and she began to fidget while he continued to look at her. She racked her brain for a way to get him to move along. She was quite sure there were more amusing things for Jack Walker the great to do, none of which would involve her standing awkwardly in a doorway trying to make small talk with him.
"Why don't you meet me downstairs," he said finally. "We'll head for the garage and you can set up your workshop."
"The sooner the better," she said under her breath.
Both his brows rose. "Are you always so focused?"
"I just want to get this job over with," she blurted. "What I mean is, I don't want to waste any time here." She shook her head. "Rather, I really—”
"Should I take your rush to get out of here personally, I wonder?" He straightened from his casual pose with a half smile. "Come on, Arthur."
Callie watched him and the dog go down the hall.
She had to admit, she liked the way he moved. What she wasn't quite so fond of was his habit of staring at her. She couldn't begin to imagine what he found so fascinating.
Although the larger problem, she supposed, was her response. The warm feeling that came over her skin and sank into her bones was disconcerting.
Mostly because she wouldn't mind getting used to it.
Shutting the door, Callie knew she shouldn't deny the truth. She was attracted to Jack in spite of his past with women and all his money. Part of it was physical, of course, but after last night there was more. His indignant response when he saw where his mother had put her showed that her comfort and her pride mattered to him. His sensitivity had been unexpected and the fact that he'd wanted to take care of her had been... appreciated even as she'd made a point to prove her independence to him.
She shook her head and reminded herself who she was dealing with.
An exhibition of good manners didn't mean he'd turned into Prince Charming. Ruthless men could still be polite. After all, her father had possessed the manners of English royalty and still managed to cheat on his wife for decades. Romanticizing Jack Walker was not in her best interests. If she really wanted to take care of herself, she'd work long hours and get out of his house as quickly as she could.
So yes, the man certainly could take her desire to get his project done fast personally.
After showering, she grabbed her toolbox and went downstairs, unsure of exactly where she was supposed to meet Jack. She listened and heard a voice down at the far end of the house. Following the sound, she eventually found him in his study.
He was standing behind a large desk, facing a set of French doors that were hung with maroon velvet drapes. The room was paneled in a dark wood and had a spectacular domed ceiling on which a scene of cherubim and clouds had been painted. Across from the desk, there was a black marble wet bar and a bank of TV screens that were silently projecting MSNBC, CNN, and CNBC.
She was about to knock on the doorjamb to get his attention when he barked into the phone, "I don't give a damn what he said. He cooked the numbers so I'm not doing the deal. Tell him he can find another sucker."
She noticed that he had the receiver tight against his ear and his free hand was cranked in a fist.
This, she thought, was the real Jack Walker.
Abruptly, his body tilted forward, as if he was actually standing in front of the person he was yelling at. "Look, I've got a half a dozen other deals going right now, so I only have two more words to spare on this one. F*ck. Him."
Callie jumped back as he slammed the phone down.
"God damn it." He raked his hand through his hair and wheeled around, grabbing something off his desk.
The moment he saw her, he cleared his throat. "Callie."
"Why don't I come back?"
"No." He let the paper fall out of his hand, watching it land on the desk. "No."
He put his hands on his hips and released a slow, deep breath. When he looked back up at her, the aggression was mostly gone.
"Let's go."
As he walked past her, she gave him plenty of space.
Leading the way to the garage, Jack was struggling to control his anger. Thanks to the financial muscle he had, most people didn't screw with him, but desperation and money could make fools out of almost anyone. If he was going to stay on top of his game, he needed to remember that happy little fact and not be so surprised when someone tried to do a nasty on him.
But hell, he'd done his homework on that deal, he'd dedicated resources, he'd expended time and thought. To discover at the tenth hour that he'd been lied to was a real insult. It had happened before and it would happen again, but that didn't mean he had to like getting served bullshit. And if his reaction had been hotter than usual, it was because he was frustrated that he or one of his people hadn't caught the problem sooner.
He looked at Callie, who was apparently fascinated by the grounds. Her eyes were focused anywhere but on him, making him feel like some kind of thug.
"I'm sorry you walked in on that."
He was rewarded with a quick glance. "I know you're a hard-core businessman and all, but it's hard to imagine what could be that upsetting."
"You ever stand to lose a hundred and twenty-five million dollars?"
Her eyes widened. "Ah, no."
"Well, that'll light a fire under you. Trust me."
They got to the garage and he opened the door for her.
"What exactly do you do?" she asked, going up first.
He struggled to answer the question while watching her hips shift from side to side.
"I invest in privately held companies in return for an interest in them. The profit is made when they go public."
"Is the Walker Fund a big deal? No offense, but finance isn't my field."
"When properly leveraged, I can command over ten billion dollars."
"Oh." She paused at the head of the stairs as if trying to come to terms with the number. When she looked up, she exclaimed, "This is wonderful!"
He lost the remnants of his anger as she put her toolbox down and walked around. There were windows on every side of the open space and the peaked roof stretched the ceiling upward to a shallow point. He'd had a long wooden table set up and had brought up a few different chairs for her to choose from. There were also a couch and a couple of side tables.
Her footsteps made a clicking sound across the glossy floor as she explored and he watched her with a greed that worried him.
"This is going to be just perfect," she said, looking outside. "Plenty of light."
"I'm glad you like it. When I had this space winterized last year, I put in a bathroom with a shower and there's also a stereo system hardwired into the walls."
"This is all so surprising," she said, running her hand absently across the table.
"What is?"
Her head jerked around as if she'd abruptly remembered she wasn't alone.
"Nothing." She faced him, all business. "I have a list of the equipment I need. Some of it I have to get before I can do any work on the painting at all."
"Fine. We can go to the MFA this morning."
She nodded and pointed to a set of double doors. "What's through there?"
"Just a closet." He walked over and opened it up.. Inside were four Rubbermaid bins and she seemed curious as she looked at them. "I believe the bottom two are stuffed with some needlepoint pillows my mother has no use for. The others are full of old family papers."
"Really?" She went inside and lifted the lid off the top one. "Have they been cataloged?"
"Not that I know of."
"They should be."
"Do you want to do it?"
She glanced over her shoulder. "Are you serious?"
"Of course. And I'd pay you for the work."
She shook her head. "Absolutely not. I happen to like making order out of chaos, so this would be a nice diversion for me. Besides, I don't have a background in document preservation. All I could do is sift through the papers, put them in piles, and get them ready so someone who knew what they were doing could go through them."
She got up on her tiptoes and leaned forward, putting her arms inside the box. He heard papers sliding against one another with a graceful sound and then a harsh noise when the container slipped. She started to fall forward.
Moving on instinct, Jack grabbed her around the waist from behind, pulling her back. His first thought was merely to keep her upright.
But as her body came up against him, his brain pretty much shut down.
As they made contact, he heard her gasp and felt like doing a little heavy breathing of his own. The fit of her against the cradle of his hips was seamless and she must have been as struck by the sensation as he was because she didn't struggle as much as he didn't move.
He couldn't have counted the number of heartbeats that passed while they stood together.
Now would be a good time to let go of her, he told himself. All he needed to do was drop his hands and step back. Make some smooth comment about her throwing herself into her work.
Instead his fingers splayed over her waist, measuring the subtle undulations of her rib cage as well as the softness of her sides. He felt her body expand with breath. When she still didn't pull away, he leaned into her until his chest was against her back.
Don't do this, he thought. For Christ's sake, don't you dare do this.
But his body was taking over, drowning out sane thoughts and moral reasoning, replacing them with an insane need to take her. He couldn't think about the implications of what he was doing. He wanted her and that was all he knew.
Moving slowly, Jack brought his hand to the weight of her hair and he swept it aside to expose the skin of her neck. He bent down, bringing his lips close to her ear.
"Callie."
"Let me go," she whispered.
"Callie." His voice was low, vibrating with what was happening between them while he apologized for what he was about to do. "I’m sorry."
He pressed his lips against her skin.
Her breath left in a rush and he kissed her neck again, stroking her with his tongue. When her head fell back, he put his arms around her, his hands wide across her flat stomach.
As his lips came down once more, her head started moving back and forth as if she were struggling to argue. Seizing the moment, he turned her around. Her eyes were luminous with heat even as he got the sense that she was a hairsbreadth away from bolting.
Keeping his eyes locked on hers, he lowered his head and lightly put his lips against her cheek. Small kisses, designed to calm as well as arouse, brought him to her mouth. He hesitated.
At the core of him, he knew what he was about to do was very wrong.
You bastard, he thought, as he lowered his lips to hers.
Callie's mouth trembled under his as he softly kissed her, and the sigh that came out of her was all the permission he needed. He kissed her again. Stroking, cajoling, gently.
He knew damn well the restraint wasn't going to last. With every little kiss, his self-control was slipping away, transforming him from a rational human being into a fully aroused male with exactly what he wanted in his arms.
Her lips parted without warning and his tongue slipped between them. He groaned as he felt the warm, slick glide of hers and all he could think of was getting her skin next to his. Riding a surge of lust, he tightened his hold until her breasts pressed against his chest.
Holy Christ, he thought. Nothing in the dream had prepared him for what she actually felt like and he thought of the sofa across the room. Had he closed the door downstairs before they'd gone up? The last thing he wanted was to be interrupted.
But then she pushed him away with a moan and stumbled out of the closet.
Jack cursed as cool air took the place of her warm body and reality came back with horrible clarity.
Before turning around, he took a deep breath and rearranged himself. He didn't think facing her with a rigid erection was going to make things easier for either one of them.
Man, he'd blown it.
She was pacing around the studio when he came out of the closet.
"I'm so damn sorry," he said. "I don't know how that happened."
Well, actually he remembered the whole thing from start to finish. What he should have said was that he didn't know why it happened. Getting used to monogamy with Blair had taken some time, but he'd never slipped up. Not once. He couldn't believe he'd just broken the commitment he'd made.
"I can't...," she started and stalled out. "This isn't going to work. I need to go home—” She pressed her palms to her cheeks. "God! I should never have let that happen. I'm—I don't even know you."
Jack was struck with an absurd desire to recite his vital statistics. Height, weight, Social Security number, date of birth. Marital status.
He winced at that last one.
"It's my fault," he said. "You didn't do anything wrong."
He saw her eyeing the toolbox and then the stairs.
"Wait a minute. Let's not blow this out of proportion." The last thing he wanted was for her to go. "Just because I kissed you, doesn't mean you have to quit."
"Quit? If I leave now, it is not quitting. You tried to take advantage of me."
He frowned and spoke too quickly. "You weren't exactly fighting me back there."
She let out a disgusted noise. "Thank you for pointing that out. That makes me feel so much better."
Jack cursed to himself, thinking he should be more of a gentleman. "I'm sorry. I'm not exactly thinking clearly right now."
Hell, he was lucky he could string a sentence together. Sexual frustration was making his temper short. Worse, in spite of everything that was wrong about them being together, all he wanted to do was get her back in his arms. Naked.
He had to shut his eyes as another wave of hunger pounded through him.
Maybe he should just let her go. Show her the door. Get her out of his life.
Because things like that kiss didn't happen by accident. He'd been wondering what she'd feel like in his arms for real since that moment on her stoop back in Chelsea. And it was a damn tragedy that what had just happened between them had more than lived up to his expectations.
"Should I expect you to try and kiss me again?" she asked.
He opened his eyes and wished like hell he could give her the ironclad answer she was looking for. But at the moment, he wasn't feeling particularly trustworthy.
He dragged a hand through his hair. "I'm in a relationship. I'm engaged to someone—”
"You're engaged?" she said incredulously. "Oh, my God."
Her hands were back on her cheeks and she looked for a moment as if she might be sick because now she was eyeing the bathroom, not the stairs, with desperation.
"Listen, I'm not in the habit of cheating once I make a commitment."
"Oh, really," she tossed back. "So all those stories about your love Me were made up?"
"I said once I commit."
"Well, you certainly don't do that very often, do you?"
She crossed her arms over her chest. He couldn't blame her for looking at him with disdain and meeting her narrowed eyes wasn't easy.
"Tell me, Jack, what exactly are you going to tell your fiancée about this?"
God, he had no idea.
"I'm not sure."
"Probably nothing, right? Which is precisely how all those women ended up fighting over you like they did. No doubt they all thought you were their one and only."
"You shouldn't believe everything you read."
"If I cut out a quarter of what I've read about you, there'd still be plenty to go on. Like the time one of your girlfriends chased a half-naked actress through the Waldorf-Astoria lobby? And what had that lovely Cameron Diaz wannabe been wearing? A feather boa across her breasts and a pair of your boxer shorts, isn't that right?" Callie put her hands on her hips. "That was a personal favorite of mine. Featured in People as well as the New York Post. "
He swore out loud, long and hard. "That was years ago. And she was wearing my pants if I remember correctly."
At the time, he'd found the incident hilarious. After the great chase had begun, he'd sat back in his suite and waited until either his pants came back or the woman he'd been dating for six weeks did. Now, in retrospect, and especially in front of Callie, the theatrics seemed immature.
He took a deep breath. "I'm not like that anymore."
"Are you sure about that?" she muttered.
"Back then, I never would have apologized to you because I wouldn't have felt badly. Now, I do. I know I don't have a lot of credibility when it comes to ... things like this, but you've got to believe me. I had no intention of going down that road with you."
She stared at him, measured him. "Have you ever cheated on... her before?"
"No. And I never planned to." He walked over to the couch and sat down, putting his elbows on his knees. "I just got caught up in the moment and I made a mistake. I don't know what else to say."
Her gaze shifted to the window, and after a moment, returned to him. "I'm not like those women you're used to. I'm... just not."
No, he thought, she certainly wasn't. She wouldn't put up with being used and he had no desire to treat her casually, either.
"I know that," he replied. "I found it impossible to turn away from you. That's my weakness. Not your fault."
Her head lowered and she stared at the floor for a while.
"If I stay, it's for the work. Not because I'm interested in playing games. I don't want you to do that again."
He frowned. "You mind if I ask why not? "
"What kind of a question is that? "
"What I mean is, do you have someone in your life?" He didn't really think she'd answer him, but he wanted to know.
"That's totally irrelevant. Because even if I were alone that doesn't mean I'd be looking for you."
He had to smile. "You've made that very clear."
Gradually, the tension left her shoulders and her chin started to drop.
"So, can we be friends?" he asked, surprised to realize how much that mattered to him.
"No, we can't be friends." Her eyes drifted back to the window. "You and I, we are never going to be friends."
He didn't like that answer.
"Why not?"
"We have nothing in common."
"Untrue. We both like art. Dogs. Grace Woodward Hall. I'm sure the list could go on and on."
She shook her head. "I work for you. Just like the other hundred or thousand or however many people make up the Walker Fund. I'm simply one of many—”
"No, you aren't."
"—and I want to stay that way."
"Have you always preferred anonymity or is this just a special case because you want to avoid me?"
"This time I'm choosing it."
Jack's hunter instincts sharpened. "And when was it not your choice?"
Quickly, she turned away. "This conversation is over."
She walked across the room and picked up her toolbox, putting it on the table with a declarative sound.
He studied her for a moment, wondering what had caused her retreat. What exactly she was hiding.
"Tell me something."
"No."
"You don't know what I'm going to ask."
"And I don't care."
More gently, he said, "I just want to know. Did you get hurt by someone?"
She looked over at him, her eyes sparkling with outrage. "You're out of your mind, you know that?"
He stood up. "I'm just thinking it might explain something."
"And what exactly do you think needs explaining?"
"Why you pulled back from me."
The blush that came to her cheeks was just about the most attractive thing Jack had seen in a while. And it was confirmation, regardless of whatever denial she was about to throw at him, that she'd felt the same way he had in that closet.
Her chin rose again. "Maybe it's as simple as I didn't like it."
"That wasn't what it felt like to me."
"Then maybe you just enjoyed it enough for the both of us." Her eyes flicked down to the fly of his pants.
The idea that she'd felt his arousal made him clench his teeth with need.
He knew he should back off. He knew he should just let it all go because if he pushed her too far she was fully capable of walking out on the project. On him.
But he just couldn't. Her defiance captivated him, making the compliance he got from other women seem pale and uninteresting.
"Callie, I don't care if you pushed me back because you don't like me or because I was inappropriate or because I moved too fast. All of those are no doubt true. But I would appreciate some honesty. You liked it when I kissed you."
She gave him a righteous huff. "You ever have trouble fitting that ego of yours indoors?"
He shook his head slowly. "Not in a place the size of Buona Fortuna. I'd probably have a hard time with a ranch or a split-level, though."
She opened her mouth to speak, but then a smile tugged at the corner of her lips and she turned back to the toolbox.
Damn, but he wished she'd share the expression with him.
Jack took a step toward her and then forced himself to stop. "Listen, there's nothing wrong with pleasure and most people, when they're lucky enough to find it, don't want to stop. Unless, of course, they're already with someone or they've been hurt before, which brings me back to my point. You are one of the most defensive, closed women I've ever met. It makes me think that someone's done a number on you."
She glanced at him over her shoulder and the smile was gone. "I have no intention of discussing my personal life with you. It's none of your business as it doesn't impact our professional relationship. And I am not defensive!"
He cocked an eyebrow and smiled softly.
She cleared her throat and looked away. "Maybe I'm just wary of strangers. Which is a very healthy thing."
"Does that mean, if you knew me better, you wouldn't be so cautious?"
She laughed and the rueful edge to the sound was a relief to him. "I'm always going to be wary of you."
"Callie look at me."
It was a while before she did.
"I really am sorry. And you can trust me. With anything. With your life. I'm not going to hurt you."
She frowned and chewed her bottom lip. Seeing her white teeth come out over the softness of her mouth made him forget his good intentions for a split second.
Her voice was almost a whisper when she finally spoke. "But you kissed me while knowing you were engaged. Didn't you?"
He shut his eyes. She had him on that one.
She began taking small jars out of the toolbox and lining them up on the table. "Maybe we should wait for the painting to arrive before we go to the MFA. And I—ah, I think I'd like to get set up now."
It was an effective change of subject and suggested she wanted some time alone. He knew he couldn't force her any further, but sure as hell hoped she took what he'd said to heart. In spite of his actions.
"I'll leave," he said. "But I want you to know that I'm glad you're staying. And that I really do want this to go well. For both of us."
When she didn't respond, he walked across the room. Pausing at the head of the stairs, he said, "Callie?"
She looked up. "What?"
"Are you with someone?"
As her face reddened, he told himself he was stepping over the line again.
Although not as much as when he'd kissed her, he thought dryly.
"What I mean is, do you need time off? Or to have someone come visit?" He spoke casually, trying to cover his tracks.
Because he wanted to know for himself, not to be gracious.
She frowned before responding. "I was planning on working right through."
"And any visitors?"
She went back to the toolbox, pulling out wooden sticks and wedges of cotton. "Ah—no. No visitors."
The shot of satisfaction that went through him made Jack want to curse.
Get the hell out of here, you idiot.
This time, he left quickly.