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“And I heard you whacking a bunch of tennis balls.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Good thing balls can’t hit back.”
“I get that.” His comment and bitter tone surprised her, although maybe they shouldn’t have. Trey Wentworth might have all the cash anyone ever needed or wanted, but everyone always insisted money didn’t solve every problem.
She’d just never bought into that before.
“Did torturing tennis balls make you feel better?” she asked.
“Somewhat.” He raked a hand through his hair again. “Until I realized Jase had come into your room.”
“I heard a rumor you won some big-deal tennis tournament.”
“That was a long time ago. Do you play?”
“Unfortunately, none of my foster parents had tennis courts.”
“There are public facilities, you know.”
“Yeah, well, I’m told you need a racket, which costs money.”
“I’ve got rackets you could use. Would you like to learn?”
Would she? Kelly hesitated. She loved sports. Why not learn a new one?
“You could teach me how to play?”
“It would be my pleasure. I’ll have the pro shop deliver some clothing,” he said, glancing at the clock.
She followed his gaze. Nine thirty. Damn, she’d slept later than she thought. No wonder Jason had showed up at her bedside.
“But first,” Trey said, “we have a meeting with the FBI.”
* * *
SATISFIED THAT JASON could never get at Kelly’s weapon, Trey rose and returned the gun locker to the top closet shelf.
“The FBI?” she demanded behind him.
Trey returned to her bedside. “Agent Ballard is on the ferry.”
Looking interested, she sat up, and the sheet fell away, revealing her perfect breasts straining against her tank top. He knew he should avert his gaze but couldn’t.
“Have they made an arrest?” she asked eagerly.
“I doubt it.”
He forced himself to look at her face. A current of something explosive and sensual arced between them. Her eyes widened in awareness. He clenched his fists, wanting to shed his clothing and climb into bed with her.
As worried as he’d been about Jason getting at her gun, he’d actually had a flash of envy when he saw his son snuggled next to her.
He’d just met this woman. She came from a world foreign to him. Was it because of their differences that he wanted her?
And she didn’t even respect him. So he once again wanted what he couldn’t have? Story of his life.
And all they’d shared were kisses. Good-night kisses for his confused son. Nothing more than that.
Yeah, and he wanted to kiss her again. This time without Jason watching. He took a step toward the bed.
Still holding his gaze, she raised the sheet over her chest. A knowing smile appeared, and he lowered his gaze to her mouth where her tongue darted out and swept her lips.
He took a step away from her. He needed to get out of here before he initiated something he’d regret. Jason needed Kelly. He couldn’t screw that up.
“Breakfast is waiting,” he said, moving toward the door. “I’ll see you downstairs.”
* * *
“SO YOU’RE NOWHERE on Jason’s abduction?” Trey demanded.
Agent Ballard turned from the buffet where he’d been scooping melon onto his plate. When Ballard had arrived, Trey had invited him to join them for breakfast, hoping against his better sense for good news.
“You have absolutely no leads at this point?”
“We have leads,” Ballard said, “but none of them are credible.”
“So why are you here?”
After dropping several of Greta’s fresh pastries beside the fruit, Ballard nodded toward Kelly, who was seated at the table gobbling down scrambled eggs, sausage and a huge helping of hash brown potatoes.
“Actually I’m here because of Officer Jenkins,” Ballard said.
Kelly looked up, her mouth full.
“What about Officer Jenkins?” Trey asked.
Ballard grinned. “She believes the kidnapping was—in her words—an inside job.”
Kelly swallowed and shot Ballard her best glare. Trey hid a smile. No love lost between those two.
“Kelly?” Trey asked.
She wiped her mouth with a napkin and said, “Jason was taken from the playground. I keep asking myself how the bad guys got on the island.”
