The Billionaire's Son. Sharon HartleyЧитать онлайн книгу.
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.
He shook his head, not wanting to think about how much that must have hurt. “Uncle Brian!” Jason spotted Brian and ran across the room toward the attorney, his arms extended wide. “Airplane ride.”
Smiling at his son’s display of normal childhood enthusiasm, Trey dismissed thoughts of Kelly Jenkins’s possibly troubled past. He had enough problems to worry about and didn’t need to add hers to his pile.
Making whooshing sounds as if he were a flying airplane, Brian swept a giggling Jason high into the air, and then placed him back on the floor.
“Ready for some lunch?” Brian asked.
Jason nodded and they moved into the dining room where Greta had laid out a buffet of sandwiches, a tureen of soup, cut melon and fresh cookies. Dr. Donna Carico sat at the huge thick glass table speaking on her cell phone with an untouched sandwich before her. She looked up when Jason ran into the room and terminated her call.
Trey nodded at the doctor, knowing she’d had to reschedule appointments. “Thanks for coming, Donna.”
She nodded back, and a troubled smile crossed her face as Jason sat down beside her. “Hey, Jason,” she said.
“Hi, Dr. Donna.”
Trey thought Jason sounded shy. Their eyes met briefly, but then Jason turned back to the doctor.
“Are you here to talk to me?” Jason asked.
“Yes, sir. If you want to talk to me.”
Jason shrugged and focused on his sandwich. He took a bite. Then another. “Okay,” he mumbled around the bread in his mouth and held out his hand to the doctor.
Trey relaxed. Jason was willing to talk to his therapist, so maybe Donna could make some progress. Trey was beginning to doubt the wisdom of carrying on the charade that Kelly was his son’s mother. Perhaps the longer that went on, the harder it would be for Jason to face reality.
Maybe the break should be a clean one. Like ripping off a Band-Aid.
Donna accepted Jason’s offered hand, and the two left the room to go to Jason’s play room where they usually spoke. Dr. Carico would know the best way to proceed. He’d filled her in on the tumultuous morning during their phone call.
Trey nodded at Greta who hovered by the door in case she was needed. “Please take their lunch to them in the play room.”
As Greta gathered the plates, a fully dressed Kelly Jenkins entered the dining room looking as if she were on her way to play nine holes on the Collins Island course. Stunned by the transformation, Trey came to his feet and had to jerk his gaze away from her long, tanned legs. Her blond hair hung loosely around her shoulders, framing a pretty but serious face. She cleaned up nice, an old saying of his mother’s, filtered through his brain. The only thing that spoiled the image was her filthy running shoes.
He noticed Brian was also on his feet and openly checking her out.
“Brian, please meet my son’s savior, Officer Kelly Jenkins. Kelly, this is my attorney, Brian Howell.”
She stepped forward and pumped Brian’s hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Charmed,” Brian said. “I understand you’re quite the heroine.”
“Just doing my job,” she said.
“Do you feel better?” Trey asked. “At least warmer?”
“Much better,” she said, her focus on the buffet. “I heard something about lunch?”
“Please help yourself,” Trey said.
“Thanks.”
She piled two sandwiches, a huge mound of melon and three oatmeal cookies onto a plate. Next she scooped a ladle of steaming minestrone from the tureen and sniffed it. Apparently deciding the mix was satisfactory, she poured the thick liquid into a small bowl, sat at the table and took a giant bite from a turkey sandwich. She kept her eyes down, chewed quickly and didn’t speak.
As Trey watched her, he thought she seemed protective of her food, worried someone might take it away.
He glanced at Brian and found his friend also staring at Kelly’s strange behavior. Their gazes met, and Brian shook his head.
As if sensing the scrutiny, Kelly looked up. She swallowed the food in her mouth and asked, “What?”
“Nothing,” Trey said.
“Are you from the south Florida area?” Brian asked.
“Born and raised.”
“Where did you go to high school?”
“Why?”
Brian shrugged. “Just curious. We’re about the same age, and I’m also from Miami.”
“We didn’t go to the same school,” Kelly stated.
“How long have you been a police officer?” Brian asked.
Kelly narrowed her eyes at Brian. “Is this an interrogation or something, Mr. Lawyer?”
Brian sighed. “I was hoping you could tell me what happened in the park with Jason and the kidnappers.”
“You can read the police report,” Kelly said. “I’ve told the story at least ten times, and I’m not going over it again with you now.”
Brian held up his hands in surrender.
“Where’s Jason?” Kelly asked.
“Talking to his therapist,” Trey said.
“Excellent,” Kelly said, and resumed eating. To his surprise, she finished both sandwiches, all the fruit and started on the soup, loudly slurping the still-hot liquid from her spoon.
Trey nibbled at his own sandwich, wondering where she learned her table manners and why she was so prickly about her background. He understood why she didn’t want to go over her confrontation with the kidnappers again, and had to laugh at the expression on Brian’s face when she shut him down. Not many people had the nerve to speak to Brian Howell that way.
“Well, I’m definitely full,” Kelly said after a few minutes, gazing regretfully at her untouched cookies. “Thanks for lunch, but I really need to get going.”
“You can take the cookies with you,” Trey said, relieved the complication of Kelly Jenkins was soon to be over and she’d be out of his life. And his son’s life.
She bit her lip, and he could tell she considered grabbing the cookies, but shook her head and rose. “That’s okay. You’ll make sure I get home, right?”
“Of course,” Trey said. He nodded at Greta who had returned to her post. “Please summon Hans.”
Trey turned to Kelly again. “Officer Jenkins, thank you. I can’t express how grateful I am for your assistance with my son.”
“No problem.”
Trey smiled. Why did people politely say “No problem,” when there actually was a problem? Rescuing his son had created chaos for this woman. He could tell she was uncomfortable even now.
“How will I get these clothes back to you?” she asked.
“There’s no need for that. Please accept them as a very small token of appreciation.”
She hesitated, but said, “Okay.”
Maria appeared at the door holding a small bag. “Officer Jenkins, this is your clothing. I laundered it for you, but it might still be a little damp.”
“Thanks, Maria,” Trey said, relieved there’d be no excuse