“Oh, my God, Greta,” Kelly said. “This is the most amazing spaghetti I’ve ever tasted.”
“Thank you, Miss Kelly,” Greta said with a nervous glance at his father. She filled Kelly’s glass next.
“Thanks,” Kelly said.
His father lowered his fork and stared at Kelly. Trey took another sip of wine to hide a smile. His father didn’t believe in thanking the help for doing their job. He insisted their salary was thanks enough.
Aware of the attention focused on her, Kelly looked up. “What?” she asked.
Trey was almost sorry when his father shook his head and said nothing.
Kelly shrugged. She tore off a hunk of bread, used it to mop up the sauce remaining in her pasta bowl and devoured the bread with obvious relish. His father followed every step of her process with a disbelieving stare.
When finished, she sat back and took a swallow of water. “God, that was good. I’m going to get fat as a cow if I stay here much longer.”
Regarding her with distaste, his father said, “No dessert, Ms. Jenkins?”
She reached for her wineglass. “What’s for dessert?”
“I have no idea,” his father said.
“Then how do I know if I want any?”
“I want dessert,” Jason piped up in a small voice.
Kelly looked at his plate, which was still half full. “Didn’t we talk about how you have to eat your supper before you get something sweet?”
Jase nodded and began shoveling in his pasta.
His father’s mouth tightened in that familiar way he had when displeased. Dear old Dad didn’t trust Kelly, had accused her of being a gold digger just like Darlene. The old man had agreed not to confront her in front of Jason, but fireworks were definitely coming later.
“Did you play tennis with the island pro today?” Kelly asked.
“I did,” Trey replied.
“When are you going to stop fooling around with that game?” Senior asked.
“Never,” Trey said. “In fact, I’m about to start fooling around with it in a new way.”
“What do you mean?” Kelly asked.
Trey poured more wine into his glass. He hadn’t intended to inform his father about his plans, but whatever. He’d find out sooner or later.
“I’m starting a free clinic to teach tennis to kids who want to learn but can’t afford lessons or equipment.”
Kelly stared at him. “Seriously?”
“You were my inspiration,” Trey told her, lifting his glass in a toast.
She paused lifting her own wine for a drink and grinned, which always made him feel good. She smiled so seldom.
“What’s this about, Trey?” his father demanded. “A free clinic?”
Trey nodded. “Brian is setting up a foundation to provide rackets and group lessons twice a week over the summer. I’ve already arranged with the City of Miami to use a public facility when school is out in June.”
“That was quick,” Kelly said.
“The Wentworth name opens a lot of doors,” Senior said. “But it’s a ridiculous idea. The hoodlums will destroy the rackets. Or steal them.”
“There will likely be some loss,” Trey agreed. He had no intention of arguing with his father. Experience had taught him that was a losing game and led to nothing but frustration.
“But it will give a few underprivileged kids something to do over the summer,” Kelly said. “Keep them off the streets and out of trouble.”
Senior snorted. “Not likely.”
“It’s a pilot program.” Trey shrugged. “We’ll see where it goes.”
“Surely you won’t teach the clinic yourself,” Senior said.
“I’m full,” Jason said. “Can I go watch television, Daddy?”
“You don’t want dessert anymore?” Trey asked.
Jason shook his head with a wary glance at his grandfather.
Trey suspected his son was mainly interested in escaping the tension around this table. Kelly probably thought the same thing because she was no longer smiling.
“Sure, buddy,” he said. “Go on.”
Jason hopped down from his chair and ran into the media room. Senior frowned at his retreating back but said nothing.
Kelly threw her napkin on the table and stared at Senior. “So tell me about Mean Bull.”
“Mean Bull?” Trey asked.
“That’s how Jason referred to Grandpa. What’s that about?”
“Oh,” Trey said. “My father had a small sculpture cast of one of his prize bulls.”
“Goliath was a champion,” Senior said with his customary pride. He pointed a finger at Trey. “Highest stud fees in the history of Wentworth Farms.”
“Jason thought the sculpture was a toy and wanted to play with it,” Trey continued. “So Father warned him off by telling him it was a mean bull and would gore him.”
“Gore him?” Kelly repeated.
“I meant it as a joke,” Senior said.
“But it terrified Jason, and the name Grandpa Mean Bull was born.”
“Nothing wrong with a little healthy fear,” Senior said.
“How old was he?” Kelly asked.
“Three,” Trey said.
Kelly narrowed her eyes on his father. “Man, you are some piece of work, aren’t you?”
“I beg your pardon?” Senior said.
“No wonder Jason is so screwed up,” Kelly added.
“Now, wait just a minute, missy,” Senior thundered. “Who do you think you are speaking to me like that?”
“Lower your voice,” Trey said.
“Hey, you don’t scare me, Mr. Mean Bully,” Kelly said in a quiet but furious tone. “I’m not a frightened child.”
“No, you’re another hussy trying to take some cash off of my son.”
Trey came to his feet. “That’s enough, Father.”
Kelly also stood, hands curled into fists at her side. “I am so out of here.”
Trey blinked at her. Between her blond beauty and the fury flowing off her, she reminded him of an avenging angel.
“And guess what, pal?” she said, glaring at his father. “I don’t have to ask permission to leave the table.”
* * *
HEART POUNDING, KELLY marched out of the dining room. She could hear voices behind her, but didn’t look back.
She didn’t have to put up with this. The son of a bitch had dared call her a hussy wanting Trey’s money. Alexander Asswipe the Third indeed.
She should pack her belongings—at least they were now clean—walk to the ferry dock and catch the next boat. She could take a taxi back to her apartment.
But no. She couldn’t leave Jason without saying goodbye. The TV blared as she hurried past the media room, and she hoped it was loud enough that he hadn’t heard the angry words. She paused. Should she check on him?
No, she was too upset, and the kid was amazingly perceptive of her moods. She needed to calm down with a swim first. And that could have the added benefit of irritating Senior since he obviously didn’t want her in Wentworth Castle.
As she stomped up the staircase, Kelly spotted Maria hurrying down the hall and froze. What was Maria doing in my room? She couldn’t have been anywhere else.
Maria’s hands were empty, but she might have been straightening up. Maybe turning down the bed.
Or was she trying to get inside the gun case again?
Kelly almost called out, but decided not to. She needed to pay more attention to Maria. Maybe her visit was work related, but maybe not. Maria had already been inside that room at least once today.
Kelly entered her room—which, yeah, was spotlessly neat—and immediately checked the drawer for her gun locker. She glared at the box, convinced
it had been moved, but the lock remained engaged. She slid the digits into the opening combination and breathed a sigh of relief that her Glock lay safely inside.
Kelly closed the safe, rearranged the digits into a specific sequence and stuck the box inside a different drawer, memorizing the exact way she placed it. Next time there’d be no question. When she was certain, she’d tell Trey about her suspicions.
But why would Maria want her service weapon?
As she changed into her bathing suit, her thoughts returned to Trey’s father. She wouldn’t put it past the guy to perform a nightly inspection of the villa to ensure everything was shipshape. Maybe Maria had been tidying up for that.
After a workout where she sprinted more than swam easy laps, Kelly clung to the edge of the pool and rested her head on her arms, breathing hard.
Now that her initial burst of outrage was over, she could think about what had happened at dinner with Senior. She was partly to blame. She’d baited Senior because of how he treated Jason.
But what was the deal with the old man? It was obvious he hadn’t liked her even before he met her. What had Trey told him? Was it simply because she resembled the hated ex?
Had Trey showed him the background check? Did Senior know about her mother? No, Trey wouldn’t do that. Or would he?
Whatever. Senior obviously didn’t think she belonged in his son’s home.
And of course the old goat was right about that. She wasn’t Jason’s mother.
Still holding on to the edge of the pool, she began kicking her legs. She still had some angst to burn off.
How long was Senior staying? They couldn’t occupy the same room without spontaneous combustion.
At least Trey had defended her. That was something, right? She suddenly wanted to know what was said after she’d left the room. Maybe they hadn’t talked about her at all. Maybe they’d discussed his plans for the free tennis clinic. She loved his idea, if for no other reason than Senior hated it.
The thought that she had been the inspiration for anything proposed by Trey Wentworth sent a rush of warmth into her belly.
Man, was she in trouble. She had to go—before she got any more entangled with this screwed-up family.
Funny how now she wasn’t so eager to leave. The good life must be addictive.
“Hey.”
She dropped her feet to the bottom of the pool and looked up at Trey. “Hey, yourself.”
“Feel better?”
“Yeah, but I don’t like your father.”
Trey squatted so they were almost eye level. “Not many people do.”
She laughed at his matter-of-fact tone, her mood definitely improved.
“I’m sorry for what he said,” Trey said. “He knows you’ve refused any money.”
“Thanks. I love your plans for the tennis clinic.”
“I’m glad.” Trey rose and grabbed her robe from a lounge.
“Will you come with me to put Jason down?”
Kelly nodded. Maybe she should refuse, but he’d asked nicely.
Keenly aware of Trey watching her every move, she exited the pool via the steps. He held out the robe. When she stepped into it, Trey wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him.
“You’ll get soaked,” she said, more breathless than she should be.
“I don’t care.” He nuzzled her neck, his breath warm against her cool skin.
Kelly closed her eyes. What was she doing? What was he doing? This was crazy.
“Where’s your father?” she asked.
“In bed.” Trey’s voice rumbled close to her ear.
“He retires early.”
“He wakes up at four a.m. every day. One reason he was so pissy tonight was because his dinner was late.”
“Because of me.”
“Because of Jason.”
She closed her eyes. “Did you show your father my background report?”
Trey turned her to face him. “No.”
She searched his eyes, wanting to believe him. As far as she knew, Trey had never lied to her.
“Did you think I would?” he asked, his fingers caressing her upper arms.
She couldn’t look away from the intensity of his gaze. “I wasn’t sure.”
“There are private matters in that report,” he said.
She exhaled. “Yes.”
He lifted his hand, lowered the front of her bathing suit and touched the brand Roy had left with his lit cigarette the night he’d tried to rape her. She sucked in a harsh breath at the memory. And at the touch of Trey’s hand.
“Things I’d like you to tell me about,” he said softly. He raised his gaze to hers. “Someday.”
She swallowed hard. I don’t talk about it. Not ever. With anyone.
But she surprised herself by saying, “Maybe someday.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THE NEXT MORNING, after a run and a shower, Kelly dressed in her uniform and holstered her weapon. What would she encounter downstairs?
Jason usually waited for her somewhere. She hoped she didn’t see Trey today. Or did she want to see him? Maybe share a delightful good-morning kiss?
She smoothed a finger over her lower lip, remembering last night in Jason’s room. Their kiss had been soft and sweet. Trey had treated her as if she were precious, something she definitely was not used to. She was no shrinking violet.
So why did his tenderness make her go all tingly and gooey inside? Why had last night been different?
The only thing that had changed was the presence of Grandpa Mean Bull in the house. She hoped he was leaving today. If he didn’t, then she’d have to go.
She’d intended to make that clear to Trey last night, but she’d been so breathless after their kiss all she could do was stumble into her room, wishing he would come with her.
What would she have done if he had?
She sucked in a huge gulp of air at the image of him naked and rolling around in bed with her.
Shaking her head, she hurried down the stairs. The mean streets of Miami awaited her patrol. She didn’t have time to moon over billionaires or their hateful fathers.
Kelly stepped into the dining room—where she came to an abrupt stop.
Senior sat at the head of the table, eyeglasses perched on the end of his pointy nose, reading the Wall Street Journal. Great. Trey had said he was an early riser. Jason wasn’t in sight, no doubt hiding from Grandpa Mean Bull.
She’d have to walk by him if she wanted anything to eat.
He took a sip of coffee and gave her a quick nod. “Officer Jenkins.”
“Mr. Wentworth,” Kelly said, equally formal. Maybe she could just feed her face and go to work.
She stepped past him and heaped eggs and bacon onto her plate. Remembering the tight fit of her jeans last night, she ignored the frosted pastries, but poured herself a mug of coffee. When she took a seat, Senior had returned his focus to reading.
A copy of several other newspapers lay scattered across the table. Kelly slid the front page of the Miami Herald toward her, her attention captured by another headline about corruption in the Miami-Dade County Police Department. Not again. In disbelief, she read the story. This was her department.
“Just so you know,” Senior said, breaking her concentration, “I don’t approve of this charade you and my grandson are carrying on. I intend to put a stop to it.”
She so didn’t want to have this conversation. Maybe she could just ignore him.
“How long are you going to pretend you are Jason’s dead mother? It’s ridiculous.”
She took a deep breath and said, “You need to have this discussion with your son.”
“I already have. Now I’m having it with you.”
And appar
ently there was no way out of it. Kelly sat back in her chair. She should just walk away. She could ask Hans to drive through any fast-food place for breakfast. If Trey hadn’t set his old man to rights, how could she?
“This charade, as you call it, wasn’t my idea.”
“But you went along with it. Why?”
“Jason is a sweet kid, but he’s confused right now.”
“Jason is a four-year-old child. Four-year-olds are always confused.”
She glared at Senior. “You don’t like kids much, do you?”
“I love my grandchild,” Senior said, a defensive edge to his voice.
Maybe Trey had accused him of the same thing.
“You could sure fool me,” Kelly said. “Listen, Jason’s shrink asked me to hang around until she gets his head screwed on straight. That’s the only reason I’m here.”
“Interesting,” Senior said.
“Surely Trey told you that.”
“Oh, he told me. He also dismissed Dr. Carico yesterday.”
“He what?”
“Fired her.”
Kelly blinked. Trey had fired Carico? Why? Because Jason hadn’t regained his memory? Why hadn’t Trey informed her?
“I didn’t know,” she said.
Senior laughed softly. “I’m certain there is quite a lot about my son that you don’t know.”
Senior’s tone was so fricking insulting, Kelly tamped down an urge to toss her hot coffee at him. She took a quick swallow and burned her tongue.
“Will he find Jason another doctor?” she asked.
“We’re interviewing them today.”
She nodded. So the old goat wasn’t leaving. She could still give Trey that ultimatum—He goes or I go. Despite Senior’s arrogant behavior, something told her she’d be the one staying.
But only as long as Jason wanted her here.
God, what a sticky mess. The poor little dude might be a rich prince, but he was totally screwed by his dysfunctional family. And so was she.
Because she refused to be responsible for a further breach between Trey and his obnoxious father. She’d just have to stay out of the old man’s way.
“I think,” Senior said, “that the reason you’re here isn’t so much to help my grandson, but rather you realized you’ve fallen into a great opportunity.”
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