Wade glanced at Shelby, surprised to find her watching him, her expression as worried as his must be.
“Mr. Bradley,” Shang Junior said from the doorway. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but can I have a word with you and Mr. Shang out here?”
When the two men had stepped from the room, Shelby went over to the window that overlooked San Francisco Bay. Wade took his time getting to his feet and walking slowly to stand beside her. He shoved his hands in his pockets, not looking at her. In the distance, a few sailboats slipped across the bay. Shelby knew how to sail and used to talk about teaching him how.
“What are they hiding?” he finally asked, his voice low. “Because, to be honest, my instinct is to go back to Chicago and suggest my firm pull out of this project. How well do you know these guys?”
“Alan has been like a father to me and Philip a stern uncle.” Shelby looked up at Wade with a troubled expression. “I trust them not to do anything that might hurt me.”
“That’s not exactly saying you trust that Grantham Industries is on the up-and-up.” He considered her upturned face for a second, recognizing the change in her expression, the hardening set to her jaw. He asked, “You’re going to take the project, aren’t you?”
She nodded and turned back to the window.
“Just like that? They still haven’t told you much of anything about it.”
The old Shelby he knew so well shot him a shrewd sidelong glance. “You think I let my paranoid father dictate how much I know?”
Wade let out a deep breath. Something felt wrong about the whole thing, something about Shelby herself. He couldn’t shake the feeling she needed something. But he wanted very much to find out what.
“All right,” he said. “This should be interesting.”
