Bedroom Diplomacy(45)

“Doesn’t this sort of thing only happen in movies?”

“Colin, we’re in Washington. Where do you think the ideas for those movies come from?”

In that case, if it was for him or Rowena, whoever had slipped it under the door had taken care not to be seen.

“Should we listen to it?” Rowena asked.

“I don’t see why not.”

He walked over to the television cabinet and slid the disc into the DVD unit, and what they heard as it started to play stunned him. The disc was most definitely for him, and it was clear why whoever left it preferred to remain anonymous.

Rowena gasped. “Is this what it sounds like?”

“I think so.”

It was a recorded phone call between two men whose voices weren’t familiar, and they clearly had no idea their conversation was being recorded. They were discussing plans to hire hackers to record phone and computer activity of certain relatives and old friends of Eleanor Albert.

ANS was mentioned repeatedly, and when they indicated the network’s ruthless owner, Graham Boyle, by name, the hair stood up on the back of Colin’s neck. Whoever put this under the door had handed Colin exactly the proof he needed to get an investigation going. And the sooner it did, the sooner he got his support.

“Do you think this is real?” Rowena asked, looking as stunned as he felt.

“I have no reason to believe it isn’t. What I don’t understand is why they gave it to me.”

“Probably because of your work on the treaty and your connection with my father.”

“And I need to get this disc to him right away.” He ejected the disc and turned to her. “I think I might be taking a later flight.”





Fourteen


Rowena flew back to California that afternoon. But Colin’s later flight, which should have landed at 8:00 p.m., was pushed to the next afternoon when another meeting was called, and when even more evidence began to spring up in the ANS hacking scandal, he was forced to stay yet another day. And because it was pulling him away from working on the treaty, he decided to extend his stay in L.A. another week.

He swore he would be on a plane Sunday, but then he called to say that a storm had hit the entire East Coast and all planes were grounded.

Though she hated herself for doing it, Rowena turned on the Weather Channel, then opened her laptop and checked flight statuses for all the airlines. She was starting to act like a paranoid, possessive girlfriend. And all for a relationship that was never supposed to last.

He was finally able to get a flight out late Monday afternoon, but until the limo pulled up to the mansion that evening and Colin emerged, Rowena wasn’t completely sure that he was coming. That he would want to come all the way back here when he could have just as easily finished his work on the treaty in Washington.

Though she wanted to run down the stairs, meet him in the foyer and throw her arms around him the instant he walked in the door, she forced herself to sit on the sofa in her suite and calmly wait while Colin dropped his things in his room, changed, then stopped by to see her. She tried to ignore the frantic flutter of her heart, the blush rising up in her cheeks. She was behaving like a giddy teenager with an adolescent crush.

The firm knock barely a minute later startled her.

Puzzled, she walked to the door and opened it. She saw a flash of dark clothing and spiky blond hair, and then Colin’s arms were around her, his lips on hers, his slow, deep kiss short-circuiting her brain. And before she could stop them, her arms were around his shoulders.

Whoa, she had not expected this kind of enthusiasm.

Colin squeezed her tight, burying his face in her hair. “You feel so good and smell so good.” He nuzzled her neck. “I didn’t realize until the car pulled up in front how much I missed you.”

“Really?”

He cupped her face in his hands. “No, that’s a lie. I’ve been missing you since you left D.C.”

“I missed you, too,” she admitted. “I’m glad you’re staying another week.”

“What if another week isn’t enough?”

“I guess it will just have to be.”

“What if I want more?”

Confused, she asked, “More? More what?”

“More of you, more of us.”

If she hadn’t caught it at the last second, her jaw would have hit the floor.

And she could swear it took a full minute to wrap her mind around the concept. Then she asked the next logical question. “How much more?”

“I’ve never done this before, never even wanted to take next step. Hell, I’m not even sure what the next step is. I just know another week isn’t going to cut it.”

“Are you saying you want to date?”