He hesitated inside the door, having the strangest desire to turn around and leave. Did he want to get back onto this spinning wheel? He loved actual science, but this part of the job had never been his strength or his interest. Networking was essential to funding and to collaborative projects, but it often felt fake, and he'd never been good at pretense.
Deciding to work his way slowly into the room, he headed toward one of the nearby bars for a fortifying drink. At the back of the line was a man he hadn't seen in six or seven years, but a man he'd once known very well—his grad school roommate, David Pennington.
He'd met David ten years ago when he was twenty-two years old and starting grad school at Stanford. They'd shared an apartment with two other guys for the next three years, and his friend hadn't changed much since then. He still had a big, wide smile, blond hair, brown eyes, and a long, skinny frame that took him up to about six foot four. While David had a brilliant mind, his work ethic was nowhere close to Ian's, but he'd been good at getting Ian out of the library and into a bar once in a while.
"Ian?" David asked, surprise spreading across his face as their gazes met.
"David. What are you doing here?" Last he'd heard, David had walked away from his job to travel the world after the death of his father three years earlier. There hadn't been a funeral, so he hadn't actually seen David at that time, but he had spoken to him on the phone and sent him a few texts. Now, he realized just how many years had passed since they'd actually seen each other, and he felt guilty for not having followed up with David since then. "I thought you were in India doing yoga and meditating," he added.
"I was," David said with a small smile. "Until about six months ago. That's when I met Ahmed Mehati when I was in Mumbai. I'm sure you've heard of him."
"The man who founded Vipercom? Of course, I've heard of him."
"He offered me a job, and I decided it was time to put my passport away for a while, and get back to the nine-to-five grind."
"How's that going?"
"It's all right. I'm better now." He gave Ian a pointed look. "We both know I was a shit-faced mess a few years ago."
"You'd had some rough times. I'm glad you're feeling better."
"I am. My father's death was really just the tipping point. I was burning out on work even before he died, and afterward I just couldn't go back to it. Traveling the world gave me some new perspective. It made me see everything in a different light."
"I can imagine it would. Where did you go?"
"Everywhere. Well, not quite everywhere, but close. What about you? I hear your water project is going to be a game changer."
"That's the plan, if we can get the delivery channels to work, which is a major challenge."
"I hear there's some interest in buying your company."
"It's something I'd consider if it meant bringing down manufacturing costs and allowing us to distribute around the world. My partner is working on that end of things."
"Leaving you to work on what?" David asked with a quizzical look.
He shrugged. "I have a few ideas in mind. I haven't settled on anything yet."
"All water related?"
"It is one of the biggest problems of our time."
"You don't have to convince me of that. But I can see your brilliance being helpful in a lot of areas." He paused as they moved forward in the line. "Are you seeing anyone right now?"
His mind shot to Grace, but he could hardly call their brief acquaintance a relationship. "No. What about you?"
"Very single at the moment, but thinking there might be some opportunities here." He tipped his head toward two attractive women standing near the bar. "Want to be my wingman—like the old days?"
"Not a chance in hell," he said with a laugh. "It's a thankless job."
"Hey, I did the same for you on a few occasions."
"Very few."
"Whoa!" David said suddenly, looking past him. "Isn't that your ex-girlfriend, Brenna Pruitt, talking to Westley Ferguson?"
He turned his head to see his grad school girlfriend in conversation with Westley. He'd dated Brenna for almost a year when he was twenty-four years old. She'd been similarly engaged in pursuit of a PhD, and they had seemed like a good match at the time. But in some ways, they'd been too alike, too single-minded and self-absorbed. Their break-up hadn't been overtly emotional; in fact, their relationship had just faded away. He hadn't seen Brenna in years.
"She looks good," David added. "Feel any old sparks?"
He actually felt completely dispassionate as he looked at Brenna. She was still a very attractive blonde, with a great figure displayed in a skintight dress and high heels, but he didn't feel anything else. His head was still caught up in a sexy redhead who was having pizza with a seven-year-old right now.
"Ian?" David prodded.
He shook his head. "No sparks."
"Then I'm guessing that despite your claim to not be in a relationship, that there's someone else lighting up your life. Because Brenna is hot."
His thoughts immediately flew back to his kiss with Grace. There hadn't been just sparks with her but a blazing inferno of heat.
"I'm going to take that as a yes," David said with a laugh.
"Take it any way you want." He stepped up to the bar and ordered a beer as David requested a gin and tonic. After they got their drinks and moved away from the bar, Brenna saw them. Her eyes lit up with recognition, but along with that gleam of familiarity, something else passed through her gaze. She pulled her arm away from Westley, as if she'd been caught cheating, which was a ridiculous idea. She'd probably been with half a dozen men since him.
"Ian," she said, coming over to speak to them, Westley following behind. "I had no idea you were going to be here."
"It was a last-minute decision," he replied. "Nice to see you, Brenna."
"You, too," she replied, then glanced at David. "How are you, David?"
"Great. You look good." David added.
Brenna seemed a bit flustered by the compliment, which was odd, since she'd never been uncomfortable with male attention. As a female scientist, she often found herself in male-dominated circles, and he'd always thought she enjoyed it.
Clearing her throat, she said, "Do you both know Westley Ferguson?"
"Westley and I are acquainted," he said, giving the other man a nod.
David stepped forward to offer his hand to Westley. "I've long been an admirer of your father; I'm David Pennington."
"It's good to meet you," Westley said. "Brenna mentioned that you're working with Ahmet now."
"I am."
"Is he here?"
"Somewhere. I haven't seen him yet."
"I'm looking forward to the panel he's giving with my father."
"Two people at the top of their game," David said with a nod. "I'm not going to miss it."
"I'm going to get a drink," Brenna interjected.
"Let me buy you one," David said. He glanced at Ian. "Are you good?"
"I'm fine for now."
"So how well do you know Grace Donelan?" Westley asked him as Brenna and David left to get in line at the bar.
"It's actually Grace O'Malley. She changed her name after her parents divorced," he said, not sure why he felt the need to explain that.
Westley raised his brows in surprise. "She hates her old man that much?"
"Something like that."
"I guess it makes sense. Her father cheated on her mother. He also stole some of my father's intellectual property when he left our company. Seamus Donelan is not the good guy everyone thinks he is." Westley paused, his gaze sharpening. "How do you know Grace? I thought you might have met through her father, but if she's estranged from her dad, that seems unlikely."
He didn't think it was any of Westley's business how he'd met Grace. On the other hand, he didn't want to make more of it than it was. "I met with Seamus in Ireland, and he asked me to give something to Grace when I came up here for the conference. So I did. That's how we met."
&
nbsp; "Really? So that was just a few days ago? You seemed friendlier than that."
He saw the speculation in Westley's eyes and wondered where it was coming from. "I understand you and Grace used to know each other when you were kids."
"Grace had a big crush on me," he said with a smug smile. "Back then I was only interested in her older sister, but I have to admit Grace grew up all right. She's one fine-looking woman these days. I'm hoping to get reacquainted. Unless there's someone who has a claim on her?"
He felt irritated at Westley's words, and he didn't quite know why. "You'd have to ask her," he said shortly.
"Maybe I'll do that. I wouldn't be getting in your way, would I? If you're hitting on her, just say the word."
"Hitting on who?" David interrupted as he and Brenna rejoined the group.
"Grace Donelan," Westley said.
"Are you talking about Seamus Donelan's daughter?" David asked, an odd note in his voice.
"Yes," Westley replied. "Grace lives here in Tahoe, and Ian was with her earlier today. I was just asking him if he was interested in her, because I definitely am."
David shook his head, confusion in his eyes. "Wait a second. You're talking about dating Donelan's daughter? Isn't the timing a little odd after what happened? I'm surprised she's here and not with her father."
"Why would you say that?" Ian asked sharply. "Why would she be with her dad? She and her father are estranged."
"Oh. I didn't know that, but still, he might not make it, so I just thought that—"
"Wait, what are you talking about?" he interrupted, uneasiness straightening his spine. "Has something happened to Seamus?"
"You haven't heard?" David asked in surprise. "Seamus Donelan was attacked in his university office almost a week ago."
"No. Are you sure?" he asked in disbelief. "I haven't seen anything in the news about that."
"I don't know how much coverage it got here in the States, but Ahmet told me about it a few days ago."
"How badly was he hurt?" Westley asked. "I can't believe this hasn't been on the news."
"He's in a coma and the prognosis isn't good," David said somberly.
"Who did it?" Brenna asked. "Who attacked him?"
"No one seems to know. Apparently, the cleaning crew found him, and one of the men said they saw someone running down the hall, but there haven't been any arrests."
"That's terrible," Brenna said. "Who would want to hurt him? He's a college professor."
"He has a long past," Westley put in, an odd gleam in his eyes. "Who knows who Seamus has pissed off over the years? I bet the list is longer than anyone realizes."
David looked at Ian. "I'm surprised his daughter didn't say anything to you."
"She doesn't know," he replied. "Like I said, they've been estranged for years."
"Still, you'd think someone would have called her," David said.
"How do you know her?" Brenna asked curiously.
"I met with her father in Ireland a few months ago; he asked me to take her something," he said, repeating what he'd told Westley.
"What was that?" Brenna asked.
Three pairs of interested eyes turned in his direction. "I don't know what it was. She didn't open it in front of me. I'm sure it was personal." He really didn't want to discuss Grace with any of them. "Will you excuse me? I see someone I need to speak to. We'll catch up later." As he walked away, he realized his abrupt departure had probably only created more interest in his relationship with Grace, but he didn't care. He needed a minute to think.
He left the ballroom and walked into the adjacent hallway. He paused by the window, debating what to do. Should he call Grace and tell her about her dad? But did he have enough information? He needed to find out exactly what condition Seamus was in.
He opened up the Internet on his phone and put in Seamus's name, pulling up an article from a UK news source about the assault. He realized he'd been so caught up in his work, followed by Thanksgiving, and then Grace the past few days, he'd paid little attention to the news. But there actually hadn't been much news, which surprised him. On the other hand, he sometimes forgot that the scientific geniuses in his world were not of that much interest to the general population.
As he ran down the search items again, he felt both a burning need to tell Grace what had happened to her dad as well as a desire to protect her from more pain. How was she going to feel if her dad died with this distance between them? She might try to say it didn't matter, but she was too kindhearted for it not to matter.
Thinking about Grace reminded him of David's question. Why hadn't anyone notified her of his accident? She and her father were estranged, but she was still a relative. Had they spoken to her mother? Or perhaps Seamus had another woman in his life, maybe the woman he'd had an affair with?
Another disturbing thought entered his mind. Could the open door at Grace's house be related to Seamus's accident? As a scientist, he didn't believe in coincidence but rather cause and effect. Now the incident seemed like something that needed to be investigated further.
He punched in Grace's number. He wanted to find out where she was so he could talk to her. If she'd already gone to Tyler's house, he'd meet her there. Unfortunately, his call went to voice mail, and he did not want to leave a message.
He slipped his phone into his pocket with a frown. As he turned to go back into the ballroom, he saw Brenna coming out the door.
"You left rather abruptly," she said, a concerned look in her eyes. "Everything okay?"
"I had to make a call."
"To Donelan's daughter?"
"As a matter of fact—yes. She should know about her father."
"I thought you said they were estranged."
"Still…"
"I hope he'll be all right. He would be a tremendous loss to the science community."
"He would."
"So," she said, looking suddenly nervous. "I'm glad we have a chance to talk—just the two of us. I've thought of you over the years, Ian, especially as I watched your career take off. You've done some amazing work, but I'm not surprised. I always knew you would achieve whatever you set your mind to."
"Thanks. What have you been doing, Brenna?"
"I was working at Janus Tech until a few months ago. I just joined Draystar, Westley's company."
He was surprised. "But you're a chemist. Why would you work at Draystar?"
"They're expanding into some new technology," she said with a vague smile.
"Congratulations."
"I hope it will be a good move. It's a little too soon to tell." She gave him a nervous smile. "You look really good, Ian. I'm surprised you came to this, though. You used to be too busy for networking cocktail parties. You said they were unimportant—that the real work was not done over martinis."
"That does sound like me," he admitted. "Unfortunately, since we were in grad school, I've learned that the people who control the funding do require these martini events, so I occasionally show up."
She smiled. "I've missed you, Ian. You were always so real, so honest and substantial. There was never any bullshit with you. I don't think I appreciated that as much as I should have."
He didn't know what to say to that. "Thanks."
"Is there a woman in your life now?"
"No. Not really."
"That sounds like two answers: no and not really. Can't decide?"
Brenna had always had a sharp mind. He shrugged. "What about you?"
"I was married for two years. I got divorced nine months ago. It was a bad scene," she said, a bitter note in her voice. "I always thought I was smart, you know. Whatever other faults I had, I could always rely on my intelligence, but I was excruciatingly dumb when it came to picking a husband."
"Relationships are based more on emotion than logic."
"I suppose." She paused for a moment. "I don’t really remember why we broke up. Do you? It's not like we had a big fight or anything."
"Does it matter? It was years ago." He clear
ed his throat. "We should head back inside. I'll buy you a martini."
She smiled, and her tension seemed to ease. "All right. I'll let you."
* * *
After sharing a large pizza and playing a half hour of arcade games at the pizza parlor, Grace took a weary Tyler back to his house a little before eight. He was thrilled to be going home to his room and his toys.
As Tyler got ready for bed, she went into the living room and unzipped the large tote bag she'd brought with her. She'd thrown in PJs and something to wear for work tomorrow, along with some toiletries. At least, that's what she'd thought she'd thrown in, but as her gaze landed on the puzzle box her dad had sent, she realized she'd somehow picked that up, too.
Apparently, she wasn't quite as eager to send the puzzle box back as she should be.
Her fingers played around the edges of each Celtic knot. Old memories teased at the back of her brain—happier thoughts about her dad. Did she dare let them in?
Just holding the puzzle box felt like a betrayal to her mom and her sister—to the family who'd loved her versus the father who hadn't.
She set the box on the coffee table and sat back on the couch, pulling out her phone. She punched in her sister's number.
"Hey, Jill," she said, propping her feet up on the table. "How are you?"
"I'm sore. I just got back from Pilates."
She wasn't surprised to hear that. Jillian had been a fan of workout classes her entire life. If she wasn't doing Pilates, it was yoga, Zumba, or Tai Chi.
"What's up?" Jillian asked.
"Nothing. Just checking in."
"Really? It sounds like you have something on your mind, little sister."
"Maybe," she conceded.
"You know I can read you like a book. So, talk. What's going on?"
She took a breath and then jumped into dangerous water. "Do you ever think about Dad?"
Silence met her question. "Why would you ask me that now?" Jillian finally said, an edge to her voice.
"He sent me a package."
"So send it back the way you've always done; the way I always do."
"Did he send you anything?"
"No, not in several years, but then I wasn't Daddy's little girl like you were."
Closer To You (Callaways Book 11) Page 11