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Sloan made the introductions. “This is Mr. Harold Bennett. He’s a registered nurse, employed by Mr. Rutledge.”
“Anna Grunwald.” The woman thrust out a hand.
Trey stopped listening to the exchange the instant he caught sight of a tiny fist waving in the crib. Automatically he moved toward it, his chest tightening with the knowledge that the hand belonged to his son. But Sloan was closer, reaching the baby before he could.
Halting, he watched while she bent over the crib and crooned softly. The softness in her expression and the love shining from her eyes was the same look she wore in the hospital when she’d held their son. Anger pushed through him, the kind born of pain and all that had been lost to him.
“You must be feeling proud of yourself right now.” Trey kept his voice pitched low, for her hearing only.
Stormy blue eyes threw him a glare. “What do you mean?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Trey countered. “You saw to it that Max got his revenge. My son for his.”
“Max had nothing to do with this.” Her voice trembled with heat.
“Right,” he mocked. “It was just a coincidence that you flew straight here—and on his plane.”
“He helped me, and that’s all he did,” Sloan insisted.
“You stick to that story. Someone will believe it,” After a pause, Trey added, “I have to hand it to you, Sloan. You’re a helluva an actress. You actually had me convinced you loved me.”
“You are such a hypocrite.” Disgust riddled her words.
“Are you talking about me or yourself? It must be you,” Trey said, answering his own question. “Taking off with my son was no last-minute decision. It was something you planned.”
“What other choice did I have?” Her voice grew even quieter with the anger she held in check. “We both know if I had told you I was leaving, you never would have let me take Jake.”
“You’re damned right. I wouldn’t have liked it, probably even have argued against it. But I would have put my son’s needs first. That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have insisted on seeing him as often as possible. I know what it’s like to grow up without a father.”
“Do you think I’m so heartless that I would have refused to let you see Jake? Why do you think I left you that note saying my attorney would contact you? It was to arrange visitation rights for you. There’s no reason why we can’t work out some sort of joint custody.”
“Did Max tell you to suggest that—hoping I’d back off? Well, it won’t work. Because I know he’ll do anything and everything to make sure my son never leaves this house. Jake is his key to everything the family owns, and Max knows it.”
“That is a lie!” Sloan said with force, drawing the attention of the others in the nursery.
“Don’t pretend to be naive, Sloan,” His words cut. “It’s true, and you know it.”
“Now, now.” Anna Grunwald was quick to intervene, bustling to the crib area. “We will have no fighting here. I thought that was agreed, Mr. Calder. Or do I have to ask you to leave?”
“My apologies, Mrs. Grunwald.” Trey dipped his head to her in a show of respect. “It was a difference of opinion that became a bit heated. I regret that, and assure you it won’t happen again.”
“I intend to see that it doesn’t,” The woman stated, then lifted her head in a listening pose. “Do you hear that?” The thickly walled house failed to completely muffle a staccato drone. “It sounds like a helicopter.” She turned a questioning look on Sloan.
But it was Bennett who responded. “Mrs. Calder has a meeting scheduled with her attorney. I expect that’s Mr. Haynes arriving now.”
“Perhaps he’ll bring a note of civility.” Mrs. Grunwald divided her glance between Sloan and Trey, alert to the crackling undercurrents that ran between them. “Excuse me.” She nudged Sloan out of the way, taking her place next to the crib. “Aren’t you a sweet baby,” she declared, all warm and grandmotherly.
To Sloan’s relief, Trey moved away from the crib. Yet distance did little to relieve the apprehension she felt. It hurt to remember the way he had twisted everything, making it seem that she was the one in the wrong when nothing could be farther from the truth.
The drone of the helicopter reached its peak, then lessened for a short stretch of minutes. Again the roar of it invaded the house as it lifted off the heliport, once more taking to the air. The noise of it had yet to fade when an Armani-suited Yancy Haynes strode into the nursery.
Introductions were made all around, and the two attorneys exchanged hail-fellow greetings that spoke of past encounters. Then Yancy Haynes moved to Sloan’s side, effectively dividing the room into two camps, with Anna Grunwald as the only bridge.
“I hope you have assured yourself, Mrs. Grunwald, that the baby couldn’t possibly have better care.” Yancy Haynes smiled with confidence, then made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “Here we have a room designed for an infant, complete with a registered nurse, not to mention, of course, the absolute devotion of his mother.”
Without acknowledging his comment, the woman turned a gentle look on Sloan. “You certainly have a very beautiful and healthy-looking baby boy.”
“Thank you.” Her expression softened with a mother’s pride.
