Chapter 4
SHELBY SLIPPED INTO ONE OF the reclining chairs and reached for the seatbelt. She hadn’t flown in her father’s private jet in years, insisting on flying business class instead. It looked more like someone’s living room than the inside of an airplane. Kind of a combination living room/office. She used to wonder who used it besides Alan and his staff. She couldn’t imagine her agoraphobic father leaving his house, much less getting on a plane. It looked like the same one she’d ridden on with Philip and Alan all those years ago.
Wade took the seat next to her, leaving the couch for Shang Junior and the female guard from that morning. Of course, Shelby’s chair faced the couch. Awkward. Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes. She didn’t like takeoffs and meant to focus on work once they were in the air. When she’d told Wade she knew a lot more about the island project than she’d been told, she hadn’t been kidding.
Plenty of information could be found on the internet. Grantham Industries, after all, had been required to get permission from the federal government and the state of California in order to expand the little slip of land off the San Diego coast to create a manmade island. The aerial photographs Shelby had studied, taken during the process, reminded her of a science-fiction terraforming project. Hopefully without evil aliens.
The captain announced they had been cleared for takeoff. She shifted to see out the window better, not wanting to miss the view of the Bay Area from the air.
She tried to ignore Wade beside her. He wore her favorite cologne, the one she had first introduced him to. During the meeting, she’d managed to ignore it, but now ... It brought back so many memories. She’d liked the fragrance well enough at the mall, but when he’d put it on, he’d brought his ownsomethingto the smell.
Her pulse quickened at the memory. Irritated, she tried to analyze her reaction to the smell, thinking of the science behind it, of the molecules of the fragrance responding to a person’s skin and hormones, the complex mixture of all those chemicals—water, fat, acids, sugars, salts, proteins ...
What she really wanted was to snuggle against his neck and breathe him in.
Shelby leaned away from him, as far as she could, and rested her cheek in her palm. Didn’t she hate him? Hadn’t she told herself that over and over again for years? He’d rejected her because of who her father was. Like she had any control over that. It was absolutely ridiculous to still respond to him in this way. It made her feel weak, a simpleton who let hormones control her. She wouldn’t do it.
From the side, she sensed movement from him, and a whiff of his cologne hit her again. Was he doing that on purpose? She straightened, prepared to say something. He sat with his laptop open, earbuds already in his ears. He glanced at her and pulled out a bud.
“Sorry, is that blowing on you?” Wade reached up, shifted the air vent a little, and returned the earbud. He leaned over his computer, like he’d already forgotten her.
Shelby pulled the dagger from her heart. All these years she’d grieved the death of their love, vilified him, and agonized over what they might have had. Apparently, he hadn’t even given her a second thought.
Glancing up, she found Shang Junior studying her. He no longer had the disdain in his expression, so her little face-off with him must have done something. The project reminded her of the first one she’d taken after graduation. She’d felt surrounded by enemies then too. But the years of working with lots of different people in many countries had taught her a few things.
Shelby bent over and pulled out her bag. Riffling through it, she removed the bottle of Žincica. She held it out to him. “Peace offering?”
Wearing a confused scowl, Junior reached out a tentative hand. “What is it?”
The woman guard leaned over to read the label and chuckled.
“What?” Shang asked, still frowning.
“May I see it?” Wade asked.
“I have no idea how to pronounce the name.” Shang handed over the bottle.
Wade turned it over to read the label. “Ah, it’s fermented sheep whey.” He returned it. “I’ve heard of it. It’s supposed to be sweeter than buttermilk.”
“You gave me a fermented drink?” The disdain had returned to Shang’s expression.
“Not knowingly.” Shelby sighed. “I didn’t mean to insult you. I thought you might get the joke. You know, lighten things up a little?”
“You bought it in that Slavic store, didn’t you? You’re a sly one.” The woman grinned and reached out a hand. “Since no one has bothered to introduce us, I’m Ava Martinez. I hope you won’t try to give us the slip again.” She winked. “Wouldn’t want to have to put a chip in you while you sleep.”
“Wait.” Wade looked between the two bodyguards. “You wouldn’t really, would you? Isn’t that against the law?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Martinez chuckled at Shelby’s frown. “Just don’t let Mr. Anal here”—she nodded toward Shang—
“Hey.” He shot his partner a scowl.
“—get under your skin so you do anything stupid. Think of us as a team, Ms. Nash.” The woman used a finger to include the four of them. “We want the same thing—to keepyousafe.” She turned to Shang and pointed to the bottle. “I’d like to try some of that as a substitute for buttermilk in pancakes.”
“Pancakes with a zing.” Shang raised his brows, showing interest for the first time, and the pair began a discussion about Žincica’s possible cooking merits.
***
Wade leaned back in his chair, watching the two bodyguards. What an odd pair they made. The fearsome ninja warrior guy and the small, friendly Latina. He put his arm on the armrest and leaned a little closer to Shelby.
