Closer To You (Callaways Book 11)

by Barbara Freethy

  As Westley happily launched into a monologue about himself, her gaze drifted across the room to Ian. The blonde had vanished, but he was now sitting at a table with a man who looked to be about his age. They seemed to be joking with each other.

  The more Westley droned on, the more she wished she was at Ian's table. She'd had such a huge crush on Westley as a preteen, but while he was still attractive now, she wasn't feeling the tingle in her spine anymore. That seemed to be reserved for Ian.

  She really didn't know what she was going to do about him. Fate had put him in her path—actually, that wasn't fate; that was her father. She'd always sent back whatever her father had sent her, but Ian—Ian was different. She didn't know how it was going to feel when he left, but she had a feeling it was going to suck.

  "Grace?"

  Westley called her attention back to him. "Yes?"

  "I asked you if anything was going on with you and Ian Callaway. You came in together tonight."

  "We're—friends."

  "I've heard that before," he said, sipping his drink, doubt in his eyes.

  "What do you think of him?" she asked, curious as to his answer.

  "Professionally, he's at the top of his game."

  "And personally?"

  Westley shrugged. "A little too serious and single-minded for me. He's boring."

  She found Ian anything but boring. But since Ian wasn't a fan of Westley's, she couldn't really expect Westley to be a fan of his. She set down her empty glass. "It was nice to catch up, Westley."

  "But you're going back to Ian. All the women like Ian," Westley drawled. "You know he's more interested in water filtration devices than relationships, don't you? Do you really want to follow in your mother's footsteps?"

  "I wouldn't be doing that," she said defensively. "And, as I said, we're friends."

  "Let's keep in touch, Grace," he said, as she got to her feet.

  "Why? I live here in Tahoe, and you live—where do you live?" she asked curiously.

  "I'm based out of New York, but we have offices in London, San Francisco, and Los Angeles, so I get out to California fairly frequently."

  "Well, I don't get anywhere, so you know where I'll be."

  "Good to know."

  "Good night, Westley." She walked across the bar to Ian's table.

  He pushed out the chair next to his. "Have a seat, Grace."

  "Am I interrupting?"

  "No. This is my old friend David Pennington. David, this is Grace."

  David got up and shook her hand. "I'm sorry to hear about your father."

  "Thank you." She sat down. "So you and Ian went to school together?"

  "Grad school at Stanford," David replied with a sparkling smile. "I was a bad influence on him."

  "That's true," Ian agreed. "If there was trouble to be found, David usually found it."

  "It found me," David argued. "But when I did get you out of the library, you could usually keep up with me."

  Grace watched with amusement as David and Ian bantered back and forth. She liked seeing Ian with his friend. Unfortunately, every new thing she learned about him only made her like him more.

  "So, how do you like living in Tahoe?" David asked her.

  "I love it. Boating in the summer, skiing in the winter, long hikes in the fall and spring. It's great."

  "We should all go skiing," David suggested. "I was thinking about tomorrow afternoon. There's a break in the workshop schedule. What do you say?"

  "I work until three thirty," she said. "It's pretty late to head up the hill for me. You guys should go."

  "What do you think, Ian?" David asked. "Feel like playing hooky with me?"

  "It's a possibility," Ian said.

  David gave him a sly grin. "Does that mean you're waiting to see whether you get a better offer?"

  "I haven't looked at tomorrow's schedule yet, but if it works out, I'll let you know."

  Grace looked up as an attractive East Indian man approached the table. He wore a dark suit and appeared to be in his late forties.

  David immediately jumped to his feet. "Ahmet, glad you could make it. I wanted you to meet Ian Callaway. Ian, this is Ahmet Mehati."

  "Of course," Ian said, getting up to shake the other man's hand. "I was at your panel this morning; it was very informative. Would you like to sit down?"

  "I can stay for a few moments." Ahmet took the chair next to Grace.

  "This is Grace Donelan—sorry, O'Malley," Ian immediately corrected. "Ahmet Mehati. Ahmet is the owner of David's company, Vipercom."

  "That sounds familiar," she said, shaking Ahmet's hand. "I think my father worked for you a long time ago."

  "You are Seamus Donelan's daughter?"

  "Yes."

  Ahmet gave her a warm smile. "Seamus was one of my first associates and a great mentor. He has a brilliant mind. I was very sorry to hear about his accident."

  "Thank you."

  "I hope he'll make a full recovery."

  "I hope so, too," she said. "What does your company do? It sounds a little frightening."

  He grinned. "When I first started out, I had a young man's imagination and Vipercom sounded like a company that needed to be taken seriously. Now, at times, it feels a little like the name of one of the video games my son spends hours playing." He paused. "Our company specializes in security and spyware technology."

  "Doesn't Draystar do the same thing?" she asked.

  "Somewhat, but they focus more on drones, which is not where we concentrate our efforts."

  She really had no idea what he was talking about. It all sounded very much like the video game he'd just mentioned. "Would you all excuse me? I'm going to use the restroom."

  "It's in the back." David tipped his head toward the hall behind her.

  "Thanks."

  She made her way to the ladies' room. As she entered the room, she ran smack into the pretty blonde she'd seen with Ian earlier. "Sorry. I didn't see you."

  The woman looked like she was going to dismiss her but then suddenly recognized her. "You came here with Ian," she said. "You're Donelan's daughter."

  "Yes, Grace," she said. "And you are?"

  "Brenna Pruitt. I used to date Ian."

  "Oh, I didn't realize that."

  "It was a long time ago—when we were in grad school. We were quite serious for a while. I regret that I let him go." Brenna paused, her gaze raking Grace's face as if she were assessing and analyzing every pore. "I told him that when we spoke in his room this morning, but I don't know that he felt the same way. Are you two together?"

  She cleared her throat, thinking that was a pretty personal question for a stranger to ask. But Brenna didn't seem to have any boundaries. "I think Ian is a great guy, but I live here, and he lives somewhere else, so…"

  "You're going to let geography get in the way? Take it from me, Grace—if you have a shot with him, don't let it slip through your fingers. Men like Ian Callaway don't come along very often. I know, trust me."

  And with that parting shot, Brenna left the ladies' room.

  Grace let out a breath, not sure why she felt so unsettled. Brenna hadn't warned her off Ian; in fact, she'd told her to go for it, but her words had seemed completely opposite to her demeanor.

  Shaking her head, she used the restroom and then headed back to the table.

  * * *

  "You going to go for it with Grace?" David asked Ian, as Ahmet left the table to join another group at the bar.

  He dragged his gaze back from the hallway leading to the restroom. "What?"

  "You're into Grace. A blind man could see that."

  He lifted his beer bottle to his lips, took a swig, and then said, "We don't need to talk about Grace."

  "We don't, huh? Then she must be important in some way. Didn't the two of you just meet?"

  "We did, which is why we're not talking about her." He wasn't going to tell David he'd been caught up in Grace since the first moment he'd seen her photo on Seamus Donelan's desk. "But we c
an talk about her father. Have you heard any rumors about who might have attacked him?"

  "It's well known that he and Harry Ferguson had a falling out, but that was years ago."

  "Anything else?"

  "Well…" David looked around, then leaned forward, dropping his voice down a notch. "I did hear one other thing."

  "What's that?"

  "Donelan and Senator Barrows."

  "What about them?"

  "Word is they were having an affair. Her husband found out, and he didn't like it."

  "How do you know that?"

  "She made a bunch of trips to Ireland."

  "So what?"

  David shrugged. "You asked about rumors."

  "You're suggesting that the senator's husband had Seamus attacked as revenge for sleeping with his wife?"

  "It's the only other theory I've heard besides the Ferguson fight."

  He sat back in his seat, truly surprised by that piece of news. Connie Barrows was an attractive woman in her late forties, but she'd often been an adversary to scientists, voting against important funding for political reasons. "When was this affair supposed to have happened?"

  "As I said, Senator Barrows has been to Ireland several times in the past two years. And she was photographed with Seamus at a restaurant. Now, some might say she was just vacationing, and he was an old friend, but others might say differently. Oh, and one other thing. She was supposed to speak at the conference today, but she left early, claiming a personal family emergency."

  "That could have nothing to do with Seamus."

  "It was mentioned in context with the news about Seamus's attack. Now, if you could find out if she got on a plane to Ireland, that might be interesting."

  He frowned. "I don't know. That sounds crazy."

  "Yeah, it does," David admitted. "Probably just gossip. Look, I've got to run. I have to prep for my talk tomorrow morning. Let's touch base in the afternoon. Maybe we can hit the slopes."

  "Sounds good."

  As David got to his feet, Grace returned to the table. "You're leaving, David?" she asked.

  "Unfortunately, yes, but I hope I see you again, Grace."

  "You, too," she said with a smile.

  "If you ever want some stories on this guy, I'm your man."

  "I'll keep that in mind."

  As David left, Grace slid back into her chair. "Did I miss anything?"

  He looked into her beautiful green eyes and really didn't want to tell her what he'd heard about the senator and her father, because it would only remind her of her father's infidelity to her mother, his abandonment of her and her sister, and that's the last thing he wanted to do, especially since he doubted the theory David had floated had any merit. He'd research that one on his own time.

  "No, not really."

  She gave him a sharp look. "Are you sure?"

  "We'll talk about it later. What did you get from Wesley?"

  "He told me Harry and my dad fought over some piece of intellectual property, but that was years ago, and his father has never been willing to give him any details."

  "Maybe you'll have to get that information from Harry."

  "If he won't tell Westley, I doubt he'll tell me."

  "Did Westley have anything else to say?"

  She hesitated, then said, "He was really interested in why we were together, and he wasn't the only one. Your science friends are certainly interested in other peoples' relationships."

  "What do you mean?" he asked in confusion. "Are you talking about David?"

  "Actually, I was talking about Brenna. We met in the bathroom. She told me you were quite serious back in the day. You didn't mention you had a pretty blonde scientist ex-girlfriend here."

  "Yeah, because that was a long time ago, like eight years ago."

  "She said she regretted breaking up with you."

  "That sounds a little like she's rewriting history," he murmured, wondering why Brenna had felt compelled to say anything to a woman she'd only seen from afar. He had told her that he'd brought Grace to the party because she wanted to talk to some of her father's friends, but he hadn't introduced them.

  "Men and women don't always see relationships the same way. Maybe she was more into you than you were into her."

  "She was more into herself, Grace. And to be fair, I was, too. We were both obsessed with our work, our dreams of ambitious achievements. The relationship came in last to everything else. It was a few months of our lives. She's been married since then."

  "She didn't tell me that."

  He frowned. "I don't know why she said anything at all to you. She must have been drinking."

  Grace met his gaze. "She seemed quite sober. Who does she work for? Or does she have her own company?"

  "She actually just joined Ferguson's company a few months ago."

  "Really? It feels like this science world of yours is pretty small."

  "Usually, everyone is spread out, but not this week."

  "Is there anyone else here I should talk to?"

  He looked around the room, then shook his head. "I don't see anyone. Do you want to get out of here?"

  "Sure."

  He led the way out of the bar, saying good night to a few people along the way. As they walked through the lobby, he realized how much he did not want to say good night to her. He'd been ready to get out of the bar, but not to leave her alone.

  When they reached the bank of elevators, he stopped. "Do you want to come upstairs for a while?"

  Indecision moved through her eyes. "I think that's a bad idea, Ian."

  "Is it?" he countered. "We don't have to do anything, Grace. We can just talk."

  "We've been talking. And when we're alone, we seem to have trouble not doing anything."

  He smiled at her candor. "I can control myself. Can you?"

  "Of course."

  "Then let's go upstairs. We can compare notes on what we've learned, maybe do some research into your dad. It's only half-past nine, not that late." He didn't want to do any of what he'd just said, but if talking would persuade her to hang out for a while longer, then he'd go for that.

  Grace gave him a doubtful look. "Half an hour," she agreed. "And then I really have to go."

  He walked over and punched the elevator button before she could change her mind. They were joined on the elevator by several other people, so they didn't speak until they were walking down the hallway to his room.

  "Do you have a lake view?" she asked, as he inserted his key card into the lock. "I've never stayed here, but I've heard some of the rooms have great views."

  "No, I'm on the mountain side." He opened the door and flipped open the light, then stopped abruptly.

  Grace ran into him, putting her hand on his back. "What's wrong?"

  He drew her forward, putting his arm around her, as they both stared at his ransacked room. The mattress had been pulled apart, pillows and sheets on the floor, his closet door open. His suitcase was on its side, the lining slashed, his clothes dumped on the floor.

  "Oh, my God," Grace breathed. "Who did this?"

  "I don't know, but I'm going to find out," he said grimly.

  Thirteen

  Grace walked around the hotel room while Ian called security. When he got off the phone, he moved to his computer, which was sitting on the desk.

  "I don't think you should touch anything," she told him.

  "You're right." He pulled his hand back as anger ran through him, followed by resolve. He was going to get to the bottom of this. Whoever had done this had made the wrong move.

  "It's weird they didn't take your computer, but it kind of makes me think that I wasn't imagining what happened at my house the other day, only that break-in was not this messy or this terrifying. Someone slashed the lining of your suitcase with a knife."

  "I know," he said, pissed off at that thought.

  "Do you think the events are related?"

  "Absolutely."

  She stared back at him, her green eyes wide with con
cern. "Why?"

  "Because we've been together. Maybe when they didn't find what they were looking for at your house, they thought I might have it."

  "How would anyone know this is your room? The hotel wouldn't give out that information."

  "No, but it's probably not that difficult to hack into the system, and right now this place is filled with people who could easily do that."

  "I guess." She paused, a frown on her face. "Wait a second. When I ran into Brenna in the ladies' room, she said she'd had a conversation with you in your room this morning."

  "Yes, that's right. She came up here before the conference. We had a brief chat, and then we walked out together."

  "Then she knew where your room was."

  "But she was with me in the bar," he said, his mind wrestling with the facts.

  "Only for a short time. When was the last time you were in your room?"

  "I stopped in right before I went to meet you at school—around two forty-five." He let out a breath. "Damn. They had hours to do this."

  "What are they looking for? And why do they think we have it?" she asked, waving a hand in frustration.

  "It has to be related to your father, Grace. It's the only thing that makes sense. It's what ties us together and connects the two break-ins. I told people I met you because your dad asked me to bring you something. Maybe that's how my room got targeted."

  "But what my father sent me was just a puzzle box from my childhood. It isn't part of anything else."

  "Maybe there's something inside. Where is the box now?"

  "It's in my overnight bag in my car," she said. "I don't know why I've been carrying it around with me, but I took it to Tyler's last night, and I haven't been back to my house since then."

  "We need to open that tonight."

  As he finished speaking, a knock came at his door. Two men in business suits were in the hall. They introduced themselves as Ken Walker, hotel manager, and Roger Baxter from security. Both men were in their fifties. Walker seemed more unnerved by the scene than Baxter, who perused the room like an experienced detective.

  He gave them a brief recap, without mentioning Grace's father or anything related to Seamus's assault. He had no idea if the information was related, and he didn't want to steer the investigation one way or another until they knew more. "I'm sure you have security footage of the hallway and elevators, correct?" he asked.