The Billionaire's Son

by Sharon Hartley

  “I’m sorry, but, yes, I do. I think it would be better for both of you.”

  “That’s your professional opinion?”

  She nodded. “It is.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Carico,” Trey said. Time to end this discussion. He needed to think carefully about how to proceed. Carico’s warning wasn’t anything he hadn’t already considered. His relationship with Kelly—whatever it was—could never interfere with Jason’s recovery. But the two of them were behaving exactly as the good doctor had recommended, and Jason was doing fine, except for the fact that he still believed Kelly was his mother.

  Well, he’d asked for advice from Carico, and he’d gotten it.

  It had never occurred to him that the doctor had feelings for him, but she quite obviously wanted to get rid of Kelly for her own reasons. What would Carico think if she knew those mandatory good-night kisses had become the highlight of his day? That he was so pathetic he thought about Officer Jenkins constantly?

  He stood. “I’ll certainly take your recommendation under advisement.”

  Carico remained seated and blinked up at him. “Under advisement?”

  “I’ve thought I should get a second opinion for some time now. This crossroads is the ideal time to consult a new child psychiatrist.”

  She came to her feet. “But I’ve been treating Jason since the accident.”

  “I know that.”

  Hands fisted at her sides, she said, “I’ve rearranged my schedule, canceled appointments to make myself available to treat your son.”

  “And I’m grateful for that,” Trey said. “You’ve been of tremendous help to Jason.” And were damn well compensated for your time.

  “Yet this is how you repay my devotion to you?”

  Trey stared at the doctor, stunned. “Let’s try to keep this professional, shall we, Doctor?”

  She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. After a moment, she lifted her chin and said, “Of course it’s every patient’s right to obtain a second opinion. I’ll send you several recommendations when I get back to my office.”

  “Thank you,” Trey said. “I have a tennis game, so I think you can find your way out.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  AT THE CONCLUSION of his session with Mac Laughlin, the island pro, Trey shoved his racket into its case. He felt better. He always did after playing three sets of tennis. Much more effective therapy than any session with a shrink.

  But his conversation with Dr. Carico still rankled. Festered. What was he going to do about Jason’s treatment? About Kelly Jenkins?

  What was he going to do with his life?

  “That was one hell of a workout,” Mac said, slinging a towel around his neck.

  “Yeah, good session.”

  Mac took a long pull on a water bottle and said, “What’s gotten into you lately, Trey? You’re playing like you’ve finally decided to join the tour.”

  “I think I waited a little too late for that,” Trey said.

  Mac laughed. “Same time tomorrow?”

  “Yeah. Listen, Mac, you’re from Miami. How did you learn to play tennis?”

  “Summer camp in North Carolina.” Mac shrugged. “I loved the game and was pretty good at it, so my parents paid for lessons. I eventually joined the tennis team at my high school, where I had a great coach, and ended up going to college on an athletic scholarship.”

  “So high schools have tennis teams in south Florida?”

  “The ones in the affluent areas do. The equipment is expensive, as you know.” Mac thought a minute and grinned. “Well, maybe you don’t know about that little problem.”

  “So it would be hard for a kid from an underprivileged background to learn to play? There aren’t any free clinics at the inner city parks?”

  “Free? In Miami? What planet are you from?”

  Trey scrubbed his face with a towel. “I’m beginning to wonder that myself. See you tomorrow.”

  After a shower, Trey dressed and entered his office. Tennis had been a part of his life as long as he could remember. Maybe because the game was the one thing he’d been good at that his father couldn’t control.

  Until he’d wanted to join the professional tour. Of course professional sports weren’t the Wentworth “way.” But that was old news. He had bigger problems now. Like the fact that he missed Kelly as much as his son did. What a tangled mess. But she’d given him an idea, one that excited him. He hadn’t been excited about anything in a long time.

  He checked his phone. As promised, Carico had texted him three recommendations for a second opinion on Jason’s treatment. Trey called his attorney.

  “Brian, I have three child therapists I’d like checked out. Can your people handle that?”

  “You’re finally getting a second opinion?”

  “Carico became...too close to the situation.”

  “Anything I need to know about?”

  “Just send her an appropriate severance check with one of your best letters.”

  “Is she angry?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “How does Jason feel about a new doctor?”

  “As long as he has Kelly, he doesn’t care.” Trey looked up at a knock on his door. Normally stoic-faced Hans waited at the threshold with an expression that Trey didn’t like. What now?

  “I’ve got to go, Brian.”

  “I’ll have results for you as soon as possible.”

  “Thanks,” Trey said and disconnected. “What?” he asked Hans.

  “Your father is on the two o’clock ferry.”

  * * *

  WHEN THE FERRY pushed away from the dock at six thirty, Kelly opened the limo door and swung out a leg.

  “Where are you going?” Hans demanded over the intercom.

  The window was up, so she couldn’t see him. Hard to surveil him when she couldn’t see him.

  “I need some fresh air,” she replied.

  He made a disapproving sound, but didn’t say more. She and Trey had compromised on the transportation issue. No bodyguard, but she’d agreed to the limo, mainly so she could keep an eye on Hans. But she’d been wrong about him. Her surveillance revealed the guy was a straight arrow and loyal to Trey.

  Kelly walked over to lean on the boat’s railing. The rush of salty wind blew her hair everywhere, so she controlled it with a ponytail. Her shift had gone well today. She’d been on time and experienced no problems she couldn’t handle. No more hateful remarks from her sergeant, thank goodness.

  So, hopefully, her career was back on track.

  Looking down, she watched the frothy water stream past. She smiled, reminded of Jason splashing in the pool. What had the little dude done today while she was gone? Most likely he spent as much time as he could in the water, and Trey would have been right there with him. She had to admit Wentworth was a pretty devoted dad. She hadn’t known such a thing truly existed outside of sitcoms.

  Picturing Trey in his bathing suit, she felt a tug of arousal. Man, did she ever need to get over herself. The minute Jason realized she wasn’t his mother, Trey would forget she even existed.

  How could she put a stop to the good-night kiss ritual? Did she even want to?

  Her stomach rumbled, and she decided it was far safer to wonder what Greta had prepared for dinner. Whatever was on the menu was sure to be yummy—at least everything had been so far. It was great not to have to worry about dinner. She loved her job, but was always too exhausted to make anything healthy when she got home.

  Home? What the hell? She pushed away from the railing and gazed toward the rapidly approaching dock on Collins Island. She wasn’t on her way home. She was ferrying to Wentworth Villa where she was nothing but a temporary guest.

  She’d grown to appreciate having Hans to negotia
te Miami’s nightmare traffic after a long shift. She loved the fifteen-minute ferry trip twice a day. Boat rides were something a kid living under protective services never even dared to dream about.

  Worst of all, she looked forward to seeing Jason and Trey.

  But they weren’t her family. She didn’t have a family.

  None of these trappings were her life.

  Kelly turned from the water, glared at the sleek black limo and mentally kicked her own ass. She was as big a fool as her mother.

  * * *

  WHEN KELLY ENTERED the front door of Wentworth Villa, Maria stood in a corner of the foyer. She spoke into a cell phone, using her palm to shield her mouth so she couldn’t be overheard. Looking up, the housekeeper immediately terminated the call and hurried toward Kelly. Maria’s shiner had now faded to purples and browns.

  “We have a visitor,” she said in a hushed voice.

  “Ballard again?” Kelly asked. Had there been a break in the case?

  Maria shook her head. “Mr. Wentworth’s father. They are waiting for you in the bar.”

  Alexander Asswipe the Third was here? No wonder Maria appeared rattled. Trey didn’t talk much about his father, but what few comments he’d made, including that delightful pet name, told her they didn’t get along.

  “Are you sure they want to see me?”

  “Yes.” Maria ran her palms down her uniform. Normally the definition of calm, Maria seemed jittery, nervous. No doubt she didn’t like Wentworth Senior any more than Trey did. Should be an interesting evening.

  “Okay,” Kelly said. “Let me lock up my gun first.”

  “Put on something nice, chica,” Maria suggested, darting a look in the direction of the bar. “No one is in a good mood.”

  Kelly hurried up the stairs wondering about the need to change clothes. In the strictest sense, her uniform definitely wasn’t “nice,” but neither was much else she owned. She’d change, but her best jeans would have to do for Trey’s charmer of a dad. Too bad they weren’t exactly clean.

  Another reason to go home. If she stayed much longer, she’d have to do laundry.

  She came to a halt when she entered her room. On top of the bed were all of the clothes she’d brought with her, including her underwear, stacked into tidy piles. A stab of guilt made her flinch. Obviously Maria had already washed her clothing.

  Kelly sat on the bed. This was too much.

  “Mommy! Mommy!”

  Hearing Jason’s voice in the hallway, Kelly felt a rush of warmth and stood. He came to her door, peeked inside, but didn’t enter. Good boy.

  “You’re home,” he said.

  “Yeah, I am.” Kneeling before him, she hugged him tight, inhaling the scent of his baby shampoo.

  “Grandpa Mean Bull is here,” he whispered in her ear.

  “Grandpa Mean Bull?” She pulled back to look at the little dude. What was that about?

  Looking worried, Jason bit his bottom lip and nodded.

  So both of the Wentworth men had pet names for the head of the clan. Despite his bad press, Kelly looked forward to meeting the old shit.

  “Yeah, I heard we had a visitor.” She stood. “You go on now. I’ll be right down.”

  But Jason hesitated, obviously wanting to say something. Finally he blurted, “Grandpa Mean Bull is hungry.”

  She laughed and said, “So am I. Now scoot so I can change clothes.”

  When Jason had disappeared, Kelly reached inside the closet for the gun locker, but quickly withdrew her arm and stared at the top shelf.

  Her small safe had been moved at least a foot to the left and turned sideways. She was super careful with her gun and knew exactly how she’d left its locker. Fortunately, she always made sure to never leave the numbers on the combination that would open the lock.

  She withdrew the box and decided that someone had spun the digits that set the locking mechanism. What was going on here? Did some bozo think she’d left a weapon inside?

  Or had Maria moved the locker when she’d cleaned and accidentally changed the digits?

  Kelly secured her weapon and placed the safe inside the bottom drawer in the bureau.

  She changed into her clean jeans, frowning at how difficult they were to zip up. She put on a bright blue blouse that she believed enhanced the color of her eyes. In the bathroom, she washed her face, released the ponytail she wore at work and brushed out her hair. She found some lip gloss and applied it to her lips.

  She stared into the mirror. This was as good as it was going to get.

  But she hardly recognized the woman glaring back. It wasn’t just the lip gloss. Good Lord. Her cheekbones weren’t as pronounced as usual.

  She slammed the brush onto the vanity, furious with herself for caring what she looked like. A far bigger concern was someone in this house had tried to gain access to her service weapon.

  * * *

  WHEN KELLY ENTERED the bar, a tall, slim, gray-headed man in his late seventies turned and pierced her with an appraising look that she suspected was meant to intimidate her. Older than expected, but no question here was Trey’s father. Alexander Wentworth had likely once been as handsome as his son.

  Trey stood behind the bar. The tense set of his chin and the rigid way he held his body told her he wasn’t happy. In fact, she’d never seen him look so miserable.

  Their gazes locked and he mouthed, “I’m sorry.”

  “Mommy’s here.” Sitting at the bar, his little legs dangling from a tall stool, Jason held up his arms, a signal that he wanted a hug.

  “I presume this is the famous Officer Jenkins,” Senior said as she gave Jason a quick tight squeeze.

  “Yes,” Trey said. “Kelly, this is my father, Alexander Wentworth. Dad, this is Kelly Jenkins.”

  Kelly held out her hand. “Pleased to meet you, sir,” she said.

  Wentworth grasped her fingers in a tight grip. “Are you really?” he demanded bluntly.

  “Dad,” Trey said, a warning in his voice.

  “Am I really what?” Kelly asked, glancing from Trey to his father.

  Senior didn’t release his grip. “Are you pleased to meet me?” He said his words as if he knew she was hiding something, but, oh, man, he was onto her.

  Kelly jerked her hand away. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  Still gazing at her intently, Senior said, “She does indeed resemble your ex-wife, Trey.”

  Kelly shot a glance to Jason. Lower lip stuck out, the child glowered at his grandfather. He looked troubled. Hadn’t Trey explained the situation to his father? Didn’t Senior realize this conversation had to be confusing for the little dude? Like the boy wasn’t mixed-up enough.

  Trey handed Kelly a glass of red wine across the bar. “My father has made an unexpected visit to check on Jason.”

  “And thank God I did before it’s too late,” Senior said.

  “Exactly what does that mean, Father?”

  Senior dropped his hand to Jason’s shoulder. The child flinched.

  “You know what it means, son.”

  “And I’m telling you you’re way off base,” Trey said.

  “Time will tell.”

  Kelly took a sip of the wine. Were they speaking in code? The hostility in the room made the hairs on her arm stand up. So much so that she wanted to snatch Jason away from his grandfather. Maybe she wasn’t missing anything not having a family.

  “Let’s conclude this conversation after dinner,” Senior said. “My grandson needs food and then bed.”

  When Senior lifted Jason from the stool, the child gazed at her over his shoulder, blue eyes huge. He extended an arm toward her, obviously wanting rescue. She smiled encouragingly at him as they walked into the dining room.

  What else could she do? She wasn’t really Ja
son’s mother, but Senior was his grandfather, and based on their brief encounter so far, no question good old Grandpa resented her presence. She dared not interfere.

  But why didn’t Trey? Didn’t he realize his son was terrified of the old man?

  What galled her most wasn’t the way Senior treated her, but how he treated the little dude. He never addressed his grandson directly. He treated Jason more like a possession.

  She glared at the old man as he seated himself where Trey usually sat at the head of the table. Senior was nothing but a big bully. Grandfather or not, she wasn’t going to let him pick on Jason.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  TREY PUSHED THE food around on his plate. Nothing wrong with the meal. Even though Greta had had little notice of an extra person for dinner, she’d outdone herself with angel hair pasta covered with savory fresh tomato sauce and parmesan cheese. The bread was fragrant, crusty and delicious.

  But he had no appetite.

  He just wanted this meal over with so he could put Jason to bed and have it out with his father.

  Kelly, of course, attacked her food with her usual enthusiasm. Watching her negotiate a noodle’s serpentine progress into her luscious mouth, he lifted his wineglass and smiled. At least there was something to feel good about in a tense, silent meal.

  She’d tried to initiate conversation with his father, asking about his flight, where he lived. Senior had shut her down with monosyllabic replies that bordered on rudeness.

  “What did you do today, Jason?” Kelly asked when she paused for a sip of wine.

  “Went swimming,” Jason said, not looking up from his plate.

  “Did you have fun?” she probed.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Did you play Marco Polo?”

  “Miss Jenkins,” his father interrupted. “We do not engage children in conversation at the dinner table.”

  “Oh?” she said, shooting his father a look. “Is that the royal ‘we’?”

  His father’s eyes widened. “What did you say?”

  Greta entered the room. His father shook his head and didn’t pursue a response when she began refilling his water glass.