An Irresistible Bachelor by J. R. Ward Page B

hadn’t been born a Medici back in the fifteenth century.
    There were chintz chairs and a comfortable sofa to sit on, and white wicker side tables supported lamps made out of Oriental vases. She took a deep breath. The warm, humid air smelled of the flowers that were growing around the room in perfectly maintained beds.
    She was looking through the glass at the undulating lawn when she heard soft footsteps. She turned, very curious about who exactly Jack Walker had married, and found herself meeting the soulful eyes of an Irish wolfhound. The dog was about the size of a small pony and covered with a shaggy gray coat of fur. He wagged his tail in a tentative welcome.
    â€œWell, hello,” she said softly, getting down on her haunches.
    The dog approached, moving in a slow, loping walk. His head was taller than hers as she kneeled in front of him, but though his size was daunting, his eyes gave him away. They were limpid pools of friendliness.
    She was stroking his head when a voice cut through the room.
    â€œI see you’ve met Arthur.”
    Callie looked over into an impeccably aged face. Her first impression was that the woman had once been incredibly beautiful. The next was that the proprietary glare coming out of her brown eyes was about as welcoming as a Taser gun.
    My God, she thought, this wasn’t his wife.
    The great Jack Walker lived with his mother.
    She wanted to laugh, but knew the outburst wouldn’t have gone over well. Mrs. Walker looked as if she didn’t find much humor in anything.
    â€œSo you are the conservationist my son has chosen,” the woman said, stepping into the room. Her stark white hair was pulled back from her face and the severe style showed off her set of spectacular cheekbones. She was wearing a tweed pantsuit that had the clean lines of haute couture and there was a lot of heavy gold jewelry around her neck.
    She was right out of central casting. The quintessential grande dame.
    Callie got to her feet. “Yes, I’m Callie Burke.”
    â€œYou’re a little young for this, don’t you think?” The comment was followed by a chilly little smile.
    â€œI can do the work, Mrs. Walker. And your son is confident of this or he wouldn’t have hired me.”
    The smile disappeared. “You do realize that Copley was the painter?”
    As if Callie might have mistaken the thing for a Le-Roy Neiman.
    â€œOf course.”
    â€œWell, it’s Jack’s money wasted if you fail. Not to mention the loss to the art world, which would be significant. But I’m sure you’ll perform to the best of your abilities.”
    Callie lifted her brows.
    Well, at least you didn’t have to dig for her put-downs. Anything more obvious and Jack’s mother would be burying a knife in her chest.
    Though she was tempted to shoot something back, she forced herself to keep quiet and was surprised as the dog leaned against her legs. She put her hand down and stroked his ear, appreciating his support.
    Mrs. Walker frowned.
    â€œArthur seems to like you.” Her tight lips suggested that the virtue he’d found was a mystery. “I’ll let Elsie show you to a room. Jack just called me. He told me to apologize on his behalf because he will be late tonight. I’m going out, so you will be alone.”
    Now, that was terrific news.
    Jack’s mother walked away, but paused in the doorway to give Callie the once-over again. “Wherever did Jack find you?”
    At the local pound for starving artisans, she wanted to toss back. One more week of no work and they were going to gas me. He saved my life!
    Instead, she just let the woman go. She wanted to tell the venerable Mrs. Walker exactly what she could do with her attitude, but that was just going to make the next six weeks even harder to get through. Besides, she’d endured worse than what Jack’s mother could dish out. Growing up she’d worn thick glasses, braces, and bad