The Billionaire's Son

by Sharon Hartley

  “Jason has safely returned home?” Greta asked.

  “Yes,” Trey said. “We got lucky.”

  “Thank God.” Then she held herself stiff. “What can I do for you, sir? Is he hungry?”

  “I need you to prepare some sandwiches and hot soup. My attorney and Dr. Carico will be arriving, plus we have a visitor.”

  “Yes, sir,” Greta said. “What about dinner?”

  “Whatever you had planned,” Trey said. He couldn’t think that far ahead right now. First he needed to get Kelly Jenkins showered, fed and sent home. Maybe when she was gone, Jason would return to himself.

  In his office, Trey moved to his desk and called the island pro shop, instructing them to deliver women’s golf shorts and a shirt. The Jenkins woman would need clean and more suitable clothing after her shower. “Size eight or—maybe six. Better bring one of each. I don’t care what color. Throw in some socks. Do you have lingerie? No? Okay. But make it quick. There’ll be a generous tip.”

  He leaned back in his swivel chair and closed his eyes. What else needed to be done? He couldn’t think of a thing. His staff was efficient. Maria would see that Officer Jenkins—Kelly—got her shower and the new clothes.

  He’d hoped when Jason got home he would forget this fantasy of his dead mom come back to life. No such luck. Poor Jase. Was there lingering trauma from the crash? Darlene had been so drunk she hadn’t bothered to strap him into his car seat, so he’d struck his head. The surgeons said all swelling had resolved, but maybe not. What other explanation was there for his strange behavior? Could Dr. Carico get him straight again?

  At a light rap on his office door, Trey opened his eyes. Brian Howell stood there holding a document. Trey leaned his chair forward. He needed to talk to someone he could trust, and Brian was both his personal attorney and a good friend since their undergraduate days at Princeton.

  “How are you doing?” Brian asked as he entered, his gaze sweeping Trey over his reading glasses. An avid runner himself, Brian was tall, thin and the most focused man Trey had ever known. Except for my father, Alexander Asswipe Wentworth the Third.

  “I’ve been better. But I’ve also been worse.” Like this morning before I got Jason back.

  “You look terrible.”

  “No doubt. I haven’t slept since the abduction.”

  “How’s Jason?”

  Trey sighed. “He thinks the cop who rescued him is Darlene.”

  Brian halted his steps. “What?”

  “He won’t let her out of his sight and insists on calling her Mommy.”

  Brian sat in a chair before the desk. “That’s bizarre behavior even given what he’s been through. Have you contacted Carico?”

  “She’ll join us any minute.”

  “What happened?”

  Trey told the story of how Jason somehow escaped his abductors and glued himself to a woman jogging through the park. “I think it’s because Kelly Jenkins physically resembles Darlene and was jogging. Remember, Darlene used to take him on runs.”

  “You’re sure that’s the whole story?” Brian asked.

  “The Miami Police corroborate her version, and they interviewed bystanders,” Trey replied. “Why?”

  “Like I said, bizarre. Where is this woman now?”

  “Upstairs with Jason. She’ll join us for lunch when he falls asleep.”

  “So you’ve allowed this stranger into your home? Is that wise?”

  “I didn’t have much choice without sending Jason into full-out hysterics. I couldn’t do that to him.”

  “I’d like to talk to her with you present,” Brian said. “See if she tells the story the same way twice.” He removed his glasses and tapped them on his cheek. “I’d also like to run a background check on her.”

  “She’s a police officer. As soon I feed her, she’ll be out of our lives.”

  “Maybe.”

  Trey shrugged. “Whatever you think. What’s that?” Trey nodded to the document in Brian’s lap.

  “Part of the reason for my caution. This is a demand letter from Darlene’s father—or rather Darlene’s father’s new attorney.” Brian handed Trey the paper over the desk.

  “My ex-wife didn’t have a father.”

  “Oh, she had one. He just wasn’t in her life following conception. One Jeff Lawson just got out of prison, found out who the bundle of joy he never laid eyes on married, and thinks—like his daughter before him—why not dip into the deep Wentworth pot for a little extra spending money.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Trey stared at the letter in outrage. Lawson’s attorney, a sole practitioner, had a post office box for an address.

  “Don’t worry about it. I had to tell you, but it’s nothing but a nuisance, a bottom-feeder lawyer making some noise. I’ll deal with it.”

  Trey sat back and closed his eyes. “Yeah, please handle it. Right now I’ve got to focus on Jason.”

  “Carico is good. She’ll get Jase straightened out.”

  “I hope so,” Trey said. The phone rang, and Trey checked caller ID, surprised to see his father’s private number. Was he actually taking time to check on Jason?

  “Excuse me,” Trey told Brian. “It’s my father.”

  Brian stood. “I’ll check on lunch.”

  “Hi, Dad,” Trey said into the phone.

  “Trey. I got your message. Excellent news.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “I trust you’ll make certain Jason is better protected from now on.”

  Trey didn’t respond. His dad never missed an opportunity to get in a dig. This one was a low blow, but better not to react.

  “I hope you haven’t forgotten the Alzheimer’s benefit,” his father continued.

  “What did you say?”

  “You’re scheduled to appear at The Turf Club tonight.”

  Trey closed his eyes. No way could he attend a formal party now. The idea sickened him. How typical that his father expected him to go.

  “Sorry, Dad. Under the circumstances, I won’t be able to make it. I’ll send regrets and a large check.”

  After a long silence, his father cleared his throat. “Hundreds of very expensive tickets were sold based on your appearance. The Wentworth name is all over this event.”

  “Dad—”

  “Don’t let the family down, Trey. Jason is fine. He’ll likely sleep the night through.”

  “How do you know Jason is fine?”

  “He’s home, isn’t he? Just put in a brief appearance, shake a few hands and down a few glasses of champagne. It’s your job, son. I expect you to attend.”

  And with that his father disconnected.

  Trey smothered a curse and replaced the receiver. What made him think this time his father would demonstrate some normal human emotion?

  So he was going to The Turf Club tonight. Putting on a cheerful smile and glad-handing strangers was impossible. How would he get through the evening? He didn’t want to go, but this was the unholy deal he’d made with his father, the only sure way to protect his mother. A deal that had never chafed worse than right now.

  What if Jason were still missing? Would his father still expect him to put on a tux and promote Wentworth Industries?

  What the hell. He’d make it quick. He wouldn’t sleep tonight anyway without a sedative, and he didn’t want to take one. Jason might wake up and need him.

  * * *

  WHEN CERTAIN JASON was asleep, Kelly slipped her hand from under his limp fingers and tiptoed toward the door where she flipped off the overhead light. A small nightlight in the shape of a green frog glowed dimly, and a bit of sun filtered in through the windows, so the room wouldn’t be totally black if he awoke.

  As she eased the door shut, Kelly wondered if Jason was afrai
d of the dark.

  Carrying a pile of thick towels, Maria waited in the hallway and offered a shy smile. “Is Jasonito asleep?” she asked.

  “For now,” Kelly said, wincing at Maria’s discolored face. “You were with him when he was taken, right?”

  Maria’s smile disappeared. “Yes. We were at the park. I tried to stop them, but they—” She raised her hand to her swollen eye. “I could not protect him. That must be why he is mad at me.”

  “I don’t think he’s mad at you,” Kelly soothed. “He’s just a mixed-up kid right now.”

  Maria glanced at the door. “He is sweet boy.”

  “Yeah, he is,” Kelly said. Although damned heavy.

  “Thank God he is home safe. Thank you for rescuing him.”

  “Just doing my job,” Kelly said.

  At those words, Maria roused herself. “Let me show you to your room.”

  Following Maria down the hall, Kelly thought of her own mother, something that didn’t happen often lately. Was it the way the housekeeper moved? Kelly’s mom had worked as a maid for most of her life. When she was sober enough to hold a job, that is. But never in a grand house like this, Kelly thought bitterly. Usually fleabag motels—where she’d turn the occasional trick if the opportunity arose.

  They entered a large bedroom where again the theme was mostly white, although the furnishings, including a desk, provided pleasing splashes of dark brown. A wooden frame without a curtain surrounded a huge bed overflowing with plump, carefully arranged pillows. Arching white orchids perched on bedside tables. Kelly’s gaze was drawn beyond the flowers to windows on either side of the bed and a spectacular view of blue-green water in the distance. The Atlantic Ocean.

  Maria placed the towels on the bed and stepped to a closet where she slid open doors and withdrew a—of course—white terry cloth robe. Maria handed Kelly the robe, and motioned toward a door that Kelly guessed led to the bathroom. “After you shower, please come downstairs. Lunch will be waiting.”

  “Thanks,” Kelly said.

  Maria moved to one of the side tables, opened a door and withdrew a glass bottle.

  “In case you are thirsty,” Maria said, presenting the bottle to Kelly. “Help yourself to whatever is in the refrigerator.”

  “Thanks again.” Kelly twisted off the cap and took a long drink of chilled water with a refreshing lemon flavor.

  “Por nada,” Maria said. “It’s nothing.”

  With a slight bow, Maria exited, closing the door behind her, and Kelly released a sigh. Had she fallen down a rabbit hole today, or what? She grabbed the robe, draped it over her shoulders and stepped to a window to check out the view.

  Wow. Yeah, the white-capped ocean took her breath away, but the huge pool, surrounded by towering palm trees swaying in the breeze, was equally spectacular. Swimming was her favorite form of exercise, but hard to manage with her schedule.

  Yeah, right. Mr. Trey Wentworth would have no problem with her making herself right at home with a dip in his pool.

  What a paradise. Wondering just how big this so-called villa was, she shook her head as she imagined the cost to maintain this palace. She couldn’t wait to tell Lana and Patrice, two of her fellow rookies, about her adventure into billionaire-land.

  But first she needed to shower, warm up and get out of here. Kelly grabbed a towel from the bed and hurried into the bathroom, where the tasteful luxury made it a perfect place to dreamily soak your troubles away.

  Under different circumstances. Get moving, rookie.

  Kelly stepped to the shower and swiveled on the water. She placed the robe on the gleaming marble counter, removed her running shoes and socks, then stripped and stepped through a mist of steam into a strong stream of hot water. Finally. Relishing the warmth, she turned her back to the cascade and on the other wall spotted another set of nozzles. Wondering what would happen, she turned those on, too, and soon jets of delicious heat seeped into her muscles from front and rear.

  She washed her hair with shampoo from a pump container conveniently built into the wall, and then rinsed it with a silky conditioner that released the same citrus fragrance. She lathered all over with a shower gel that left her skin soft and smooth.

  She emerged from the shower a new woman, relaxed and ready to tackle any problem. After drying off, she enfolded her warm, happy body with the robe, cinched the tie and realized she had to put back on the same damp clothing she’d arrived in.

  Maybe Wentworth would loan her some sweats.

  Kelly found a comb next to the sink, ran it through her shoulder length hair, and then used the blow dryer to take her hair from soaking to damp. All the amenities of a hotel. Except a toothbrush, so she rinsed her mouth with the lemon water and exited the bath to find several sets of shorts and polo shirts laid out on the bed.

  Well, how about that. A quick check told her Wentworth had guessed her size correctly. Or, anyway, he’d managed to narrow it down to two choices. The man obviously knew his way around a woman’s body. His thoughtfulness elevated her opinion of him.

  Was he considerate or just didn’t want her walking around looking sloppy? She frowned at her thoughts. She was being judgmental, and she was way too relaxed for that.

  Not to mention too hungry.

  As she loosened the robe’s tie to change into the new clothes, Kelly heard a commotion in the hallway and turned toward the door. Someone was stampeding past the door.

  “Mommy!” she heard Jason scream. “Mommy! Where are you?”

  What the hell?

  Kelly stepped into the hall and spotted the kid running furiously in the direction of the staircase screaming for his mother.

  “Jason,” she said. “Here I am.”

  The kid turned, spotted her and reversed direction.

  “Mommy,” he shrieked.

  She tried to brace herself, but Jason launched himself into the air, grabbing her around her hips, and she lost her footing.

  Kelly twisted so she took the force of the fall. As her butt landed on the marble floor, she protected Jason’s head by holding it against her soft middle with both hands. Kid was screwed up enough already.

  “Ooomph,” she heard herself say as she hit the floor. Pain shot through her hip, but she tightened her abs to prevent her own skull from slamming down. Out of breath, she lay still for a moment and stared at the ceiling as she assessed her body for damage.

  So much for my relaxing shower.

  She felt cool air where she shouldn’t at the same time she heard noises from Jason, and raised her head to gaze down to where she cradled him against her abdomen. Her bare abdomen. Damn. The robe had come open. Her breasts were exposed. Talk about a wardrobe malfunction.

  Jason lifted his cheek and their gazes met. He grinned and began to giggle. Thanks a lot, kid.

  But it was the first time she’d seem him smile and this was ridiculous. A laugh bubbled up from Kelly’s chest. She needed to cover herself, but the robe had slid off her shoulders and the terrycloth was all tangled beneath her.

  “God, are you two all right?”

  Kelly’s gaze snapped toward the demanding male voice. Trey Wentworth stood frozen at the end of the hallway wearing a horrified expression. He saw everything.

  Releasing a breath, she closed her eyes. This day just kept getting worse and worse.

  * * *

  TREY WATCHED AS Kelly leaped to her feet and hurriedly secured the front of the robe. Jason reached his arms up, and she hefted him onto her hip.

  “That was fun, Mommy,” he said.

  Trey hurried down the hall toward them doubting if she agreed. He couldn’t help but notice she’d deliberately taken the brunt of the fall, protecting his son.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Fine,” she said, her face a healthy pink, unabl
e to meet his gaze.

  Trey shifted his gaze to his grinning son. “Jason, it’s not nice to knock people down.”

  His smile faded. “Sorry, Daddy. I woke up and got scared ’cause I couldn’t find Mommy.”

  Trey evaluated his son. He hadn’t slept long enough to clear his head, and most likely he’d experienced troubling dreams again. Maybe Dr. Carico could give him a sedative and ensure he slept through the night.

  “No harm done,” Jenkins said. “Except to my dignity.”

  “I’ll bet you end up with a nasty bruise.”

  “Maybe,” she said. “Hey, thanks for the clothes. Much appreciated.”

  “You’re welcome. Lunch is waiting,” Trey said. “Come downstairs when you’re ready.”

  Jason grumbled when she returned him to the floor, so Trey stepped forward and took his hand. “Let’s go eat, Jase. Mommy needs to get dressed.”

  Jason frowned, remaining stubbornly in place. “Why can’t we stay with Mommy while she gets dressed?”

  Trey glanced to Kelly. When their gazes collided, an unexpected arc of awareness shot between them. Yeah, he’d definitely like to watch her get dressed. Her breasts were magnificent. Perfectly formed and completely natural, a rare thing among the women in his social circle. He wouldn’t mind confirming the rest of her body was just as stunning.

  “I’ll be right there, Jason,” she promised, breaking the moment. “Just give me a minute, okay.”

  “Greta made your favorite sandwich just for you,” Trey said, wondering where his inappropriate thoughts had come from.

  “Peanut butter and jelly?” Jason asked in a hopeful voice.

  “Yes.”

  “Grape jelly?”

  “Of course.”

  “Okay, Daddy.”

  Trey breathed a sigh of relief as Jason scampered toward the stairs. “Grape works every time,” he told Kelly. “We’ll see you downstairs.”

  “Sure,” she said, and disappeared inside the guest room. Trey followed Jase downstairs, his thoughts returning to Kelly’s body. He’d also noticed an old burn mark near her collar bone. Its shape suggested someone had ground a lit cigarette into her flesh.