Mile High

by Ophelia Bell

  She pulls the flash drive out of her laptop and deposits it into a small purse resting on the edge of the desk, then stands. Booth and I both stand with her.

  “We’re staying here in the hotel, right down the hall,” Booth says. “We’ll be waiting to hear from you.”

  “And I will contact you the very second I have an answer, and deliver the promise in writing for you to take back to Zavala. Meanwhile, please enjoy the party. Anton can get you drink tickets.”

  My shoulders feel a little lighter, but I’m still tense as hell, and torn between begging off and heading back to my room, or taking full advantage of the small stack of printed cards the senator’s assistant hands us when he shows us out.

  Booth pauses before hitting the elevator button and looks at me. “Down to the party? I don’t know about you, but I need more than what the mini-bar in my room has to offer.”

  “May as well take advantage of the free booze,” I say with a shrug. When we’re inside the elevator car, I note Booth’s frown and his uncharacteristic broodiness. “What’s eating you?”

  He huffs and shakes his head as if to dispel dark thoughts. “I just put something together in that meeting that hadn’t occurred to me before. The senator’s son used to be a DEA agent. I knew him a little, but he was more senior than me, and he was a field agent, so we didn’t interact much.”

  I look at him, noting his use of the past-tense. “What was his name?”

  “Chris Longo. He disappeared about six years ago during an operation investigating Amador’s drug sources in Colombia. Chances are he was killed, but his body was never recovered. It didn’t click until meeting the senator who he was.”

  I wince. “That explains some things.”

  “That’s not the half of it, though. Six years ago, before Katherine Longo was a US Senator, she was Administrator of the DEA. She was our boss. She was the one who assigned him to that operation.”

  15

  Callie

  “See? You are turning heads, my dear,” Nina murmurs as we make our way through the Grand Ballroom of the Brown Palace’s annex. The event is even bigger than last year’s, so Mom had to upgrade to a larger space than the one in the main hotel. It’s still gorgeous, cleverly furnished with high-top tables and a smattering of decorative partitions around secluded, comfortable seating areas. The entire rear wall is occupied by tables of treats, champagne fountains bubbling at either end, and two fully staffed bars. Wait staff in crisp white shirts and slim black ties make circuits of the room carrying platters of cute little tasty morsels, as well as flutes filled with champagne.

  My stomach gurgles from anxiety more than hunger. On the way over I promised Nina I’d keep an open mind about having a fling, but there are so many reasons to avoid it, not the least of which is that I doubt anything could top that airplane lavatory tryst with Mason.

  I wish I’d met him before I got engaged and wasted three more years with Barnaby. I wish he’d given me his damn number! All I can think about now is how badly I want to get back to LA, because that’s where I’m likely to see him. Here, there’s too strong a chance of me running into Barnaby—maybe not at this party, but in Denver in general. He lives a few blocks down Little Raven, not far from Mom’s loft. We like the same restaurants and pubs, and we jog the same route along the river too. Of course, the asshat is probably in Aspen right now, so I don’t have to worry about running into him, which is preferable.

  “Here,” Nina says tartly, and I find myself holding a champagne flute as I blink at her, startled by her sharp tone.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She heaves a sigh. “I hope you know I’m not giving up on this, so either you choose from all the hot, eligible bachelors here tonight, or I’ll choose for you. How ‘bout that guy?” She settles on a barstool at one of the high-tops, pointing toward a small group of men chatting near the stage.

  The one she’s indicating isn’t in a tuxedo, but wears a dark blazer with a silk brocade vest and dark dress shirt beneath. He has a shaved head, and while he’s cute, he’s not exactly what I’d go for. I start to shake my head, but the way Nina’s eyes are bugging out makes me pause and give her a hard look.

  “What the hell is up with you?”

  She lets out an exasperated huff and tilts her head back. “God, what is up with you? Have you been living under a rock? I just pointed out a fucking rock star and here you are, all eh, whatever. That’s the lead singer of the band, honey. You know, the one listed on the big sign outside? The motherfucking Fray?”

  I blink and do a double-take at the guy, because they happen to be my favorite band and I ought to have recognized their lead singer, even if Nina hadn’t pointed him out to test me. The night just got a little better, but not the way Nina thinks. “You know he’s married, right?”

  “They’re not all married, though. I bet your mom would introduce you if you asked. Their drummer’s kind of cute too.”

  “I’m not hooking up with any of the band tonight. I wouldn’t mind meeting them, but you know I don’t need Mom’s help.”

  I slide off my seat and start toward the stage, turning up the wattage on my smile, which everyone tells me is my best feature. The tactic works, and one of the men beside the band’s lead singer glances up, eyebrows rising as I meet his gaze. It’s the drummer, if I remember correctly.

  Halfway there the rest of them notice, and Nina whispers, “Damn, girl. Who knew you had it in you?”

  A tall figure in a blue gown glides into my line of sight and stops. My smile departs as I’m faced with my mother.

  “Callista. Good, you’re here. We need to take care of the usual photos before the rest of the guests arrive. I don’t have much time.” She grabs my hand and turns toward the doors.

  “Nice to see you, Mom.” I scowl at the back of her head, but let her pull me along anyway.

  “Hi, Mrs. Longo,” Nina calls.

  “If you’ll pardon me, Nina, Callie will only be a few moments, and then you two can enjoy the rest of the night,” Mom shoots back over her shoulder.

  Nina gives me a small wave as I pass, rolling my eyes.

  I can probably credit at least half my success to adamantly refusing to ask for my mother’s help with anything, which means I’m quite capable of taking care of most problems on my own. But bolstering Katherine Longo’s public image was the one compromise I made. It’s not like she gave me much of a choice; I had to make a hard decision when she threatened not to pay for med school if I didn’t show up to parties like these and play the part of dutiful, yet highly accomplished daughter, rising through the ranks of cutting-edge medicine.

  I think she was insulted that I chose to use my father’s name in my professional life, but I didn’t want any hint of the favoritism the Longo name recognition might bring me. Besides, if I was going to be compelled to do all these favors for her, I wanted some way to keep Dad close. Or maybe I just wanted to rub it in her face that he was still my favorite parent and that I hadn’t forgiven her for him leaving.

  We push through the doors heading to the press wall just outside, where a row of photographers from various news outlets wait to snap photos of all the high-profile guests who are in attendance. Mom’s PAC logo covers the backdrop, a not-so-subtle reminder that this event is all about her.

  Even though she isn’t up for re-election for three more years, the fundraising and campaigning never really seem to end. I took her money for my education and made sure it was well-spent. Luckily, once I finished my undergrad degree, my skills and knowledge became the real currency, so I didn’t need the Longo name to achieve my goals. If I needed to name drop nowadays, I’d use Dad’s name anyway. It goes much further among my colleagues.

  “What the hell were you thinking, wearing that dress?” Mom says through her fake smile as we pose for the cameras.

  I clench my jaw at the criticism, trying to force my smile into my eyes while the shutters click. I probably look like I’m squinting. “You of all people should k
now red is a power color, Mom. I needed as much power as I could to get through tonight.”

  Her eyes cut to me briefly, the muscles of her jaw spasming with the force of holding that smile. “Do you have any idea how they could spin this? They’re already asking whether you’re still a supporter or if you’ve changed parties.”

  I blink, then stare at her, heat rising in my blood. “Are you seriously suggesting that wearing red to this thing means I’m not still a Democrat? Jesus, Mom. It’s just a damn dress.” I stalk away from the cameras, not caring whether they caught us in the act of arguing or not.

  “Callie!” she calls after me, rushing to catch up as I head toward the restrooms. I turn, ready to spit venom, but am taken aback by the chagrin on her face. “You always loved this party, honey. Why do you think you need to get through it? Will you talk to me for once?”

  “You want to talk now? Isn’t it a little late for that?” My glare is unrelenting, and I’m gratified by the flash of irritation in her eyes. It’s not an apology, but it’s something.

  “It doesn’t have to be now, but we’re long overdue. Will you at least tell me what changed this year? The dress . . . well, it’s beautiful. You are stunning, sweetie. But it threw me, and I’m sorry. You seem different this year, and it made me realize how long it’s been since we really talked.”

  Her apology sounds so genuine, and for once I see real emotion in her eyes. I stop to face her, uncertain whether I should share that Barnaby is out of my life. She never liked him, so as far as she’s concerned, it would be good news.

  Sighing, I decide it might not be the worst thing in the world to start fresh with her. It’ll at least make the coming year a lot more bearable. “I ended it with Barnaby. For good this time. I’d like tonight to be about moving forward, so when you have time, I would like to talk. I’m at the loft until Monday, then I’m going back to LA.”

  She smiles and her shoulders relax. “I’ll make time before I head back to D.C. Thank you. And for the record, I am sorry about Barnaby. You two were together a long time. Longer than many marriages.”

  I nod and half-shrug, but a bitter laugh escapes. “Yeah, well, I was a fool. You and Nina were both right about him. But I’m done letting him take up any more mental real estate, so I’d love it if he’s not the topic of conversation anymore. There are more important things going on in both our lives, I’m sure.”

  “You bet, sweetie,” she says, closing the distance between us and pulling me into a hug. “Try to enjoy yourself tonight, okay? We’ll talk soon.”

  With a swirl of blue silk and tulle, she glides back into the ballroom. I stare after her, a little flustered, but weirdly calm. I’ve forgotten how wonderful it feels to be hugged by my mother. How she could make me feel better just with that simple gesture.

  I head into the ladies’ room feeling calmer and more sure of myself than I did moments ago. It’s New Year’s Eve. Tomorrow is the start of a brand-new year, so what better time to attempt a fresh beginning?

  Mom is on stage when I return to the ballroom, beginning her spiel to the guests, followed by an introduction for the band. Nina waves excitedly from our table, grinning and wide-eyed. I rush over, curious what has her so bouncy all of a sudden.

  “Callie, I found them!”

  “Found who?” I ask, accepting a fresh flute of champagne from the waiter who pauses by our table.

  Nina tilts her chin toward the bar where a pair of tall, broad-shouldered men stand. One is a dirty blond with fairer skin, and the taller one has dark, close-cropped hair and a deep tan. They’re in tuxes, like ninety percent of the other men here, but I raise my eyebrows, impressed that she managed to pick them out of the entire crowd. Tall is good.

  “Wow, good eyes.”

  “And they came in together, sans dates, so all bets are that they’re single. I haven’t had a chance to do more recon since your mom dragged you out, though. How is she? Same as usual?”

  I sigh and shrug. “Mostly the same, but I think I might be ready to forgive her. She seemed . . .” I trail off and stare into the bubbly liquid in my glass. “She seemed more sensitive tonight than she’s been in the past. She even hugged me. How crazy is that?”

  Nina purses her lips. “Well, she is your mom. But I’m guessing it’s been a while since you two really had a moment.”

  My guts tangle as I work back through the memories, then nod. “Not since before Dad left. More than five years, Nina.” Tears well, pricking at my eyelids. I sniffle and take a quick drink. “God, why did we wait so long?”

  Nina snorts. “You and Kat are two of the most stubborn, headstrong women I know. I’m glad one of you finally gave enough to let the other one in. Halle-fucking-lujah.” She raises her glass, and I roll my eyes and clink.

  The band begins to play and we turn our attention to the stage for a few minutes. I can’t help but glance back at the pair of men Nina pointed out, curious, but in no hurry. I’m not sure I want another fling, but it would be fun to have a dance partner, and at the very least someone to kiss at midnight.

  But when I think of kissing, my mind is overwhelmed by the memory of Mason’s mouth covering mine while I was mid-orgasm on the plane, his tongue thrusting between my lips just as relentlessly as his cock between my legs. Warmth floods my body, the arousal making me less interested in meeting someone new. Not when I’m hoping like hell he finds me again in LA.

  But Nina’s a master at picking up men, and when I look back at her, she’s already caught their attention and is waving them over before I can object.

  “How the hell do you do that?” I murmur. “You’re like a man magnet.”

  “Trust me, it doesn’t always work to my advantage. But tonight’s about having fun, and these guys look like a whole lotta fun.”

  Her eyes brighten, and I look up to watch as the two men finally turn from the bar and make their way through the crowd toward our table.

  She chose well. They’re both clean-cut men, and both fill out their tuxes like they were tailored to fit. If they were on Mom’s guest list, they probably paid a pretty penny for their duds.

  The blond one has a casual smile as he glances between me and Nina, but as they draw closer, it becomes clear the tall, dark-haired one has his eyes laser-focused on me.

  “Wow, looks like the big guy made his choice. You go, girl,” Nina murmurs beside me.

  My skin heats. I’m not used to such focused attention from a stranger, and I’m not sure I like it. I meet his intense gaze with a challenging stare, ready to fend off an aggressive pick-up, silently hoping it doesn’t ruin Nina’s chances with the other guy. But if they’re both pushy, macho assholes, I’ll do battle for my friend too.

  There’s a flash of amusement in his gray eyes, and when he starts to smile, it hits me. He reaches the table still smiling, and this close, the remnants of fading bruises around his eye are clearly visible.

  My heart stops beating.

  It’s him.

  He’s had a haircut since I saw him last, and a close shave that reveals a set of dimples and a sexy cleft in his strong chin, but it is most definitely Mason Black.

  “Hey, Doc. Fancy seeing you here,” he says in that gravelly voice that makes my insides turn to jelly.

  And like an idiot, all I manage to say by way of greeting is, “You shaved.”

  16

  Mason

  I rub my chin, unable to stop smiling. Callie is probably the last person I expected to see tonight, but I can’t say I’m disappointed. Far from it. If she’s here, I might actually be able to stomach the wait for news from the senator.

  Her flirty friend is gawking at us and jumps in. “Wait . . . you two know each other?” She looks at Booth, who widens his eyes and shrugs.

  “This is news to me too,” he says. “I’m Wyatt, by the way.” He sticks his hand out to the curly-haired brunette.

  “I’m Nina, and this is Callie, but I guess your friend here already knows that.”

  “Mason is alway
s full of surprises,” he says with a wry tilt of his head, one eyebrow lifted at me.

  “We met in LA,” I explain. “She’s my M—my Aunt Marcella’s doctor.” I grit my teeth at the near-miss, but am too thrilled to see her to care all that much.

  Callie’s cheeks are pink, her pretty bow of a mouth open in shock, but she blinks and regains her bearings, nodding as she straightens. “Right!” she says a little too quickly. “But I didn’t expect to see you until I got back to LA. This is a nice surprise.”

  “Riiight,” Nina drawls, eyeing us both. “You met in LA. Mmhm.” She takes a sip of her bubbly, suppressing a smile. I narrow my eyes at her, then glance at Callie, who flushes even redder. I take it she told her friend about our little mile-high adventure. The realization makes me rock back on my heels a little, my smile growing.

  “It’s a very nice surprise.” I hold her stare for a beat, then let my gaze take in the rest of her. She was pretty in her lab coat and scrubs, and later in her leggings and sweater. Tonight she’s a fucking goddess in a red dress, and I can’t quite believe my eyes. Or my fucking luck.

  Callie seems to recover, because she gives me an irritated look. “We were also on the same flight to Denver. I asked if you wanted to come to a New Year’s Eve party and you said you wouldn’t be in town. Yet here you are.”

  “Are you disappointed?” I ask, holding her stare. She spears me so hard with those blue eyes I couldn’t look away if I wanted to. Here I thought I’d be lucky if she even said “hello” the next time we saw each other, or if she’d just chalk up our encounter to a crazy rebound stunt.