The Billionaire's Son

by Sharon Hartley

  “You’re an excellent swimmer,” he said.

  “Thanks.” Her answer sounded more like a question.

  “But listen,” she blurted. “I’m grateful for the bathing suit. I figured if you provided one it was okay to use the pool.”

  “Of course.” Had he provided a bathing suit? He couldn’t remember.

  “Okay,” she said. “I’m getting out now.”

  “Good. You could get chilled now that you’ve stopped moving. Hypothermia can be dangerous.”

  And her lack of movement had calmed the water, making it obvious she wore a rather skimpy red bikini, likely the source of her reluctance to exit the pool. His staff certainly had excellent taste.

  With a quick glance his way, she placed her hands on the edge of the pool and easily boosted herself out of the water, turning to place a firm derriere on the concrete. Then she brought both feet up underneath her and stood defiantly before him, water sluicing over her smooth flesh.

  He couldn’t breathe as his gaze feasted on her stunning body.

  Their gazes locked. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t look away.

  His brain, befuddled by whiskey and the glorious warrior woman, created an image of both of them wet, naked, writhing together in his pool.

  * * *

  KELLY TOOK A deep breath and fought the urge to shield herself like a modest virgin, which she most assuredly was not. But she wasn’t a slab of meat, either.

  Wentworth’s pool had looked so refreshing, and the night had been so lovely—God, she loved a night swim—she just couldn’t help herself.

  And apparently Wentworth couldn’t stop himself from staring.

  “Could you please hand me the robe?” she asked.

  “Robe?” Wentworth appeared dazed. How much booze had he enjoyed at his little shindig?

  “Behind you on the lounge chair,” she said. “If I come close to grab it, I’ll drip all over you.”

  He hesitated, the hint of a smile playing on his lips. What was he thinking?

  Finally, Wentworth reached behind him, grabbed the white terrycloth, then rose and carried it to her.

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re quite welcome.”

  She took the robe from his hands, covered herself and tied the waist with a quick jerk. Wentworth returned to his seat and this time lifted his legs and leaned against the back. He continued to gaze at her as he took a sip of whatever was in his glass.

  Still wary, but more at ease now that her boobs weren’t staring him in the face, she used the hood of the robe to squeeze water from her hair. She ought to go to her room, but curiosity about wherever he’d gone held her in place.

  “You must have gone to some fancy soiree tonight.”

  His dark eyes stared at her. “A benefit for—what was it?” He shrugged. “Alzheimer’s I believe was the disease of the night.”

  “You’re home early,” she said. “Boring party?”

  “You have no idea.”

  His tone irritated her. Like she had no clue what a black-tie party for the super-rich would be like. He was right, of course, but the jerk didn’t need to rub it in.

  “You don’t think I should have gone out,” he stated.

  “None of my business,” she said.

  “Believe me, I didn’t want to go. I hated to leave Jason.”

  “So why did you?”

  “I’d committed months ago. Tickets were sold based on my appearance.”

  “Your son getting kidnapped seems a good enough excuse.”

  “Yeah, you’d think so,” Wentworth murmured. “The old man disagreed.”

  He looked away, gazing over the pool. Who the hell was the old man? Probably his father.

  Wentworth’s expression was so mournful she almost felt sorry for him. Almost. At least he had a father to be mad at. She never even knew who hers was.

  “Jase was asleep when I checked. Did he wake up while I was gone?” Wentworth asked.

  “No,” Kelly said. “I checked on him a couple of times and he was snoozing away.”

  Wentworth returned his focus to her. “Thank you.”

  “Of course.”

  This was her opportunity to leave. But she had questions, lots of them. And Wentworth seemed to be talkative for the first time, probably because of the booze. So she sat on the lounge chair next to his.

  “How long ago did Jason’s mother die?”

  “Six months. Car crash. She died instantly.”

  Kelly sucked in a breath at his blunt reply. “I’m sorry. I know it’s rough when death comes unexpectedly.”

  Wentworth gazed over the pool again. “Jason was in the car with her. He survived even though she didn’t bother to strap him into his car seat.”

  Kelly’s sympathy for the dead mother dwindled at that bit of news. How the hell do you respond to such negligence?

  “She was drunk,” he said. “Never felt a thing.”

  Kelly smothered the curse that rose to her lips. This was Wentworth’s beloved dead wife, after all, mother of his child. Better tread carefully. “Was Jason badly hurt?”

  “Head trauma.” Wentworth gazed at her again. “Which could partly explain his confusion about you. We’d been divorced for over a year and shared custody.”

  “I’m sorry.” Uncomfortable with his frank revelations, Kelly wanted to get out of here. This was definitely none of her business. “I don’t mean to be intrusive. It’s just—”

  “The whole messy story was all over the tabloids,” Wentworth said. “I’m surprised you don’t know the sordid details.”

  “I’m not much of a tabloid fan,” she said.

  He nodded and took another sip of booze. She could smell the strong fumes. Time to get out of here. History had taught her being around men that were too drunk could lead to big trouble.

  She rose. “Well, roll call comes early. I’d better get some sleep. Thanks for letting me use your pool.”

  “Anytime,” he said, gazing off into space again.

  Kelly sensed his thoughts were far away from her now. No doubt on the dead wife. She shouldn’t have asked. For the hundredth time she reminded herself the problems of the rich and famous had nothing to do with her.

  She was out of here first thing in the morning. She’d arranged for Hans to drive her home at 7:00 a.m. Plenty of time to dress and make her 10:00 a.m. roll call. Maria promised breakfast would be laid out at six.

  One thing for sure, people definitely ate well in Wentworth Villa.

  She shivered when she entered the air-conditioned house and hurried up the stairs. The door to Jason’s room stood ajar, which halted her steps. She’d closed it when she peeked in on her way down to the pool,

  But maybe Wentworth left it open when he’d checked on his son. Or maybe not. She glanced around uneasily.

  No question about the fact that someone had helped the kidnappers get to Jason. Could that someone be a member of Wentworth’s staff?

  Kelly edged open the door. Jason snored softly in the glow of his night light. Shaking her head, she eased the door shut and continued to her room. She’d mention her worries to Ballard, but right now a warm shower awaited and a hopefully soft bed after that.

  And then she was so out of fantasyville.

  What if Jason woke up still insisting she was his mom? She didn’t want to go through another hysterical scene with the kid. He’d been through enough already.

  But no matter what happened with the little dude, she would be at roll call. Nothing Wentworth said could make her miss another shift.

  CHAPTER SIX

  KELLY DIDN’T HAVE any trouble finding the dining room when she descended the stairs at 6:00 a.m. All she had to do was follow the scent of bacon and freshly baked bread.
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  She took a deep breath. Yes, and there it was. Strong hot coffee.

  Hurrying toward the lure of caffeine, she resisted the urge to rearrange the underwear Wentworth had provided. Damn, but these fancy thong panties were uncomfortable. Why did women wear them? There were some places that lace just shouldn’t go.

  For sure she couldn’t work wearing this nonsense. She’d change as soon as she got home.

  Kelly spotted Maria in the living room, but the housekeeper didn’t notice her. She was too busy struggling to open a container of what looked like prescription meds. But who didn’t have trouble with that childproof packaging?

  Greta waited inside the dining room where, as promised, a buffet of hot and cold breakfast goodies awaited. This place was like a hotel.

  “Good morning, Officer Jenkins.”

  Kelly nodded. “Good morning, Greta.”

  “Sit anywhere you like. Would you like some coffee?”

  “Yes, please. Black.”

  Kelly took a seat, and Greta immediately poured steaming hot liquid into the china cup at her place.

  “Please help yourself to the buffet when you are ready,” Greta said. “Hans will be waiting for you out front when you are ready to go.”

  “Is Jason up?” Kelly asked.

  “Mr. Wentworth is in his room now with the doctor,” Greta said. “They should be down for breakfast soon.”

  “Dr. Carico is here?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good.” Thinking the good doctor must be on some sort of retainer, Kelly glanced at the spread of food. Maybe she ought to make her escape while she could, but everything smelled too good.

  She went to the buffet, grabbed a plate and heaped it with creamy eggs, crisp bacon, hash brown potatoes, grits, cantaloupe, a chocolate croissant—Lordy, way too much food. She couldn’t help herself.

  Her typical breakfast, when she had time, was a bowl of cold cereal. Man, she really needed to get out of here. Another day in fantasyland and she wouldn’t be able to squeeze into her uniform.

  She opened the newspaper Greta placed next to her coffee, and a headline screamed some nonsense about corruption inside the Miami-Dade Police Department, her employer. Kelly ate and read until the sound of little feet thundering in her direction interrupted her concentration.

  She lowered the paper just before Jason launched himself into her lap.

  “Mommy!” he shouted, throwing his arms around her neck.

  Kelly gave Jason a hug, meeting Wentworth’s cold dark stare over his son’s head.

  * * *

  “JUST A FEW more days, Officer Jenkins.”

  “And I said no.”

  Trey paced the dining room as he glared at Kelly. Carico had taken Jason to his playroom so he could talk privately with the officer. He needed to find a way to convince her to stay. What could he offer? He was usually good at persuading people, but this woman was adamant.

  “All I’m asking is a little more time to give Dr. Carico a chance to treat Jason, to get his head on straight again.”

  “What you’re asking will jeopardize my career.” Kelly shook her head. “I’ve worked too long and hard for that.”

  “You can commute from here. I’ll put my staff at your disposal to make sure you don’t miss any work.”

  “Great. So I show up at my station every day in your limo?”

  “We can bring your car here. Or you can use one of mine.”

  “Which will take twice as long because of that stupid ferry.”

  “So we’ll use the Wentworth Industries helicopter.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh, that’s an awesome plan. I can hear my sergeant now.”

  “I’ll talk to your sergeant, explain the situation.”

  She looked away. “How can it be healthy for your son to continue to believe I’m his dead mother? He’ll have to face the truth eventually. Why put it off?”

  “Dr. Carico believes we should ease him into the truth gradually or risk damaging him further.”

  “That sounds like quack talk to me.”

  “Because you’re such an expert in child psychology?”

  Her jaw tightened. Great. Trey stopped moving and placed his hands on the back of a chair to get control of his own temper. He needed her on his side. No, on Jason’s side. What could he say to convince her?

  Hard to believe this was the same woman he’d spoken to at the pool last night. She’d seemed softer somehow, but maybe it had been her lack of clothing and the killer body. He’d been sorry when she covered up. Kelly Jenkins was a beautiful woman, one who never played up that beauty. She even tried to hide it.

  But how could she be so unfeeling? She’d spent time with Jason. She knew how desperate he became whenever she left him.

  Not meeting his gaze, she lifted her coffee and took a quick swallow.

  “Look, I don’t want to insult you by offering you cash again, but—”

  “Then don’t.” Her cup clattered to the saucer.

  “So I’ll donate money to your favorite cause or charity, help out your mom or your great aunt. Give to the Police Benevolent Association. Pay off your student loans.”

  Kelly stared into her empty cup. “Contrary to your obvious belief, Wentworth, money cannot solve all problems.”

  Trey sucked in a breath. This woman had no idea how well he understood that painful truth.

  “I’ll do whatever it takes to persuade you to stay.”

  She raised her startling blue gaze to his wordlessly.

  “He’s just a mixed-up little boy who misses his mother,” Trey said. “Can’t you find it in your heart to help him a little longer?” Maybe she didn’t have a heart.

  She closed those eyes.

  “I’ll make certain you don’t miss any more work,” he added.

  “All right,” she said. “You win.”

  Trey exhaled forcefully, relief making him want to hug her. He could just imagine the reaction that would get. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll give you another day, maybe two. But nothing you do or say can make me blow off another shift. In fact, I need to leave right now or risk being late.”

  “Greta,” Trey called out.

  Greta materialized at the door, having obviously listened to every word of his exchange with Kelly.

  “Hans is waiting in the limo out front,” she reported.

  “Go,” Trey said to Kelly. “I’ll explain to Jason that you had to work.”

  Kelly rose and moved toward the front door.

  “But I can tell him you’re coming back tonight, right?” Trey asked.

  She whirled on him. “I said I would, didn’t I?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’ll be late, though, probably around seven or eight. After my shift, I’ll need to go home to pack some clothing. Do whatever it takes so I can drive my car onto the ferry.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to send the limo?”

  “I don’t want to be trapped on this island without wheels.”

  “You can use one of my vehicles whenever you want.”

  She shook her head, and Trey raised both hands to indicate he’d back off. Kelly obviously had a stubborn streak as deep as his father’s.

  “We’ll hold dinner for you,” he said.

  A smile threatened her mouth, a rare occurrence.

  “One thing’s certain,” she muttered. “I sure as hell won’t starve.”

  * * *

  CURSING BECAUSE THE scene with Jason and then the tug-of-war with his father had taken so much time, Kelly unlocked her third-floor apartment and hurried toward her bedroom. No way could she be late today. She’d only given in to Wentworth because she kept seeing Jason’s puffy, tear-streaked face in her mind�
��s eye, hearing his sad voice begging her to stay. How could anyone say no?

  The poor little guy had enough troubles without her adding to them.

  A quick look around told her nothing had been disturbed. She had no pets or plants to suffer during her absence yesterday. She paused after tossing her clothing into the hamper. What did that lack say about her life?

  That she was a dedicated cop. That’s what. She had no time for anything else.

  Except now, apparently, Jason Wentworth and his father.

  She’d already showered at Wentworth’s castle, so she pulled a clean uniform out of her closet. After dressing—and thankfully disposing of the lacy thong—she strapped on her duty belt, which weighed close to twenty pounds, rearranged it on her hips and grabbed her car keys. She relocked her front door, pleased with how quickly she’d gotten ready. Even with all the delays, she’d still arrive at the station early for roll call. She’d come home after her shift to pack.

  How much trouble would she be in for missing yesterday? Agent Ballard’s phone call should go a long way to smooth her absence with the brass—still, you never knew. The sketch artist said he’d heard talk of a commendation, so maybe she wasn’t in that much trouble.

  And what could she have done differently? She’d been over yesterday’s events a hundred times, and she wouldn’t change a thing about what she’d done.

  She moved across the deserted parking lot toward her car when a sudden movement caught her attention. Kelly tensed, unsure why her cop instincts roared into life.

  She scanned the area. A figure stood under the trees to her right maybe fifty yards away. A man. Dark hair and clothing, six feet, thirty years old. Watching her through binoculars, his right wrist in a cast. She slowed her steps. Something about him rang a bell. She knew this man. Who was he?

  Shit. It was Adam, one of Jason’s kidnappers. Surveilling her. He had binoculars. Did he have his gun? How did he know where she lived?

  Kelly drew her weapon and aimed it at Adam in a two-handed grip. “Police. Stay right where you are.”

  But of course he ran. Kelly lowered her weapon and hauled butt after him, but he had too much of a lead. He leaped into a waiting silver Corolla and disappeared in a roar.

  Someone else was driving. Caleb?