Touch of Heaven (14 page)

Warrick took another sip of water, ostensibly to soothe his burning throat. What he was really doing was buying time.

Randall waited patiently, a knowing gleam in his eyes.

Finally Warrick muttered, “What makes you think something's going on between me and Raina?”

His uncle laughed. “I may be getting old, War, but I sure as hell ain't blind. I saw the way the two of you were looking at each other yesterday, like you couldn't wait for me to leave so you could jump each other's bones. Hell, why do you think I finally obliged you?”

Warrick stared at him, thunderstruck. “Why didn't you mention any of this yesterday? I was with you the entire evening!”

Randall chuckled. “Sometimes I like to play dumb and wait to see how long it takes you to 'fess up, like I did when you were younger and you thought I didn't know you'd done something you weren't supposed to.”

“So what you're saying,” Warrick drawled, “is that I shouldn't have kissed Raina?”

“So you
did
kiss her, huh? I suspected as much, the way she went running out of there like a bat outta hell.”

Warrick scowled, pretending to take umbrage. “Some women happen to think I'm a good kisser,” he grumbled.

Randall smiled. “You know what I meant. I knew by the way Raina took off when I returned to the garage that something serious had happened between the two of you. And I was right.”

Warrick stretched out his long legs, his body stirring at the memory of the steamy encounter he and Raina had shared, which now seemed so long ago, like something he'd only dreamed. As it turned out, he'd been dreaming
a lot
about Raina lately. More than he cared to admit—even to himself.

“I can't say I'm surprised about you and Raina,” Randall said.

Warrick frowned. “There
is
no me and Raina. We kissed. Doesn't mean we're eloping tomorrow.” He paused, then couldn't resist asking, “But why aren't you surprised?”

“Well, she's a very beautiful woman,” his uncle said pragmatically. “And one thing you've always appreciated, War, is a beautiful woman.”

“That she is,” Warrick murmured, remembering the way Raina had looked that morning in a black pencil skirt that molded her lush curves, her long, toned legs accentuated by a pair of four-inch stiletto heels. The combination of the skirt and heels had made Warrick want to drag her into the nearest vacant office, yank her skirt over her thighs and take her against the door. Hard and deep, fast and furious.

He shifted slightly on the bench, no longer surprised by the way his groin tightened at the mere thought of Raina.

Raina, who'd been ten years old the first time he ever laid eyes on her.

Raina, whom he'd never seen as anything more than his kid sister's best friend.

Glancing over at his uncle, Warrick said very casually, “You know, Deniece told me something interesting the other night over dinner. She said Raina had a crush on me when we were growing up.” He paused, gauging his uncle's reaction. “Do you think that was true?”

Randall looked at him sideways, his eyes shrewd and assessing. “Now, what would you do with that kind of information?” he demanded.

Warrick frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Why do you suddenly care whether or not Raina had a crush on you?”

“I don't know. I was just curious.”

“Just curious, huh?” Shaking his head, Randall took a swig of water.

Warrick's frown deepened. “Forget I asked,” he muttered irritably. “It wasn't important.”

“It was important enough for you to ask.”

Warrick met his uncle's knowing gaze.

Thankfully, his cell phone chose that exact moment to ring.

Warrick dug it out of the pocket of his sweat shorts and checked the display screen. The caller was a woman he'd met back in Philadelphia two weeks ago. A beautiful, ambitious attorney at a large
downtown law firm. They'd met for drinks a few times, but their busy schedules hadn't permitted much more. She'd been calling Warrick nearly every day since he'd arrived in Houston, leaving naughty voice-mail messages that made him chuckle. He was seriously thinking about flying her down to Houston for the weekend. Why not? They were long overdue for a real date, and he wouldn't be back in Philly anytime soon.

Returning the BlackBerry handheld to his pocket, Warrick made a mental note to call the sexy lawyer before he went out with his brothers that evening.

Amused, Randall shook his head at him. “I know what
that
was about.”

Warrick chuckled, not even bothering to deny it. His uncle knew him better than anyone else.

Silence lapsed between the two men as they resumed watching the action on the court. Zeke—who, like Warrick, had also played college basketball—was helping a tall, lanky boy work on his jump shot. Warrick, who could already see that the kid had serious potential, made a mental note to talk to his brother later about arranging for the boy to attend Tracy McGrady's summer basketball camp in July. Because the NBA player was a personal friend of Warrick's, Mayne Industries already enjoyed a partnership with the Houston Rockets that awarded deserving students in the Houston area tickets to Rockets basketball games.

One of the reasons Warrick had founded the Shawn Mayne Community Center was to give at-risk youth from the Third Ward a safe haven from the streets—something he and his siblings had never had when they were growing up. The sprawling facility featured two indoor gymnasiums, a fitness center, a dance studio, a racquetball court, two outdoor basketball courts, two tennis courts, an aquatic swimming pool, a baseball field, a large playground and a modern cafeteria that served free breakfast and lunch to the children. But the center's mission was not only to provide clean, spacious facilities and nutritious meals, as well as a plethora of recreational and educational activities. It was there to provide the kids with opportunities they would not otherwise have. Growing up in the Third Ward, Warrick had played basketball against boys who were far more talented than he was, but their potential had never been realized due to a lack of
opportunities. Warrick had always vowed that if he ever made it out of the projects, he would never forget those he had left behind.

“About Raina,” Randall said suddenly, breaking into Warrick's thoughts.

Warrick looked at him. Something in his uncle's tone warned him a lecture was coming.

He wasn't disappointed.

“I know I was teasing earlier about leaving you and Raina alone in the garage yesterday,” Randall said, “but all joking aside, War, I don't want you to hurt that girl. God knows she's been through enough with this family.”

Resentment stirred within Warrick. It had been more than twelve years since Yolanda Mayne had been incarcerated. Would Randall ever stop taking Raina's side? What would it take to make him see the truth?

Deciding to overlook his uncle's last comment—at least for now—Warrick said in a deliberately mild voice, “What makes you so sure I would hurt Raina?”

Randall cut him a don't-insult-my-intelligence look. “Apart from the fact that you still blame her for what happened to your sister, which we won't get into at this time, I know for a fact that you're not ready to settle down yet. And any woman who becomes involved with you hoping differently is going to end up getting hurt.”

Warrick didn't deny it. He couldn't.

Instead he drawled sardonically, “And you think Raina would hope—want—to settle down with me?”

Randall frowned. “She's not like those shallow models you date—”

Warrick bristled. “Wait a minute!” he protested. “I don't only date models. I date all kinds of women, from all walks of life, and they're not all shallow.”

“No?” Randall's voice was heavy with skepticism.

“No,” Warrick bit off. “The woman who just called me? She's a partner at a law firm. Smart, funny, likes to read. Definitely not shallow.”

Randall quirked a brow. “How's her appetite?”

“I don't know,” Warrick said, exasperated. “We haven't gone out to dinner yet. But I can tell she's really down to earth. I don't think she'd sit at a restaurant picking at her food—”

“Salad, you mean.”

Warrick opened his mouth, then promptly lost his train of thought and burst out laughing. He couldn't help it. His uncle knew too damned much about him, including Warrick's ongoing quest to find a woman who enjoyed a good meal as much as he did.

As his laughter subsided, Randall said, smiling, “All right, so maybe all of your girlfriends haven't been shallow. But I can guarantee you that none of them have the qualities that make Raina St. James so special.”

“How do
you
know?” Warrick challenged.

“Because if one had,” Randall said with calm, implacable resolve, “you would already be married by now.”

Warrick fell silent. What could he say? He didn't know Raina well enough to judge whether or not she was marrying material, nor did he ever expect that to change. But he was intrigued, in spite of himself, by what Randall had said. Intrigued, and a little shaken. Because if anyone knew what Warrick would want in a prospective wife, his uncle did.

“Raina's a good woman,” Randall said quietly, a note of unmistakable pride in his voice. “She's the kind of woman who stands up for what she believes in, even if it costs her friends. She's the kind of woman who makes time for her family. The kind of sister who makes a point of having dinner with her sibling every week, the kind of daughter who calls or visits her parents every day and who still enjoys trips to the hardware store with her old man. God knows she's been more like a daughter to
me
than your cousin Lauren, who allowed her mother to poison her mind with lies about me.” He shook his head, his mouth twisting bitterly.

Warrick remained silent, knowing how much his uncle's estrangement from his daughter still hurt and angered him. Lauren Mayne, a twenty-five-year-old aspiring actress living in Los Angeles with her mother, had made it painfully clear to her father that she wanted nothing to do with him. Since her parents' acrimonious divorce when she was five, Lauren had spurned all of Randall's attempts to have a relationship with her. Phone calls were rarely returned, birthday cards were often sent back unopened, gifts were accepted but seldom acknowledged and invitations to visit for the holidays were politely declined. Although Randall still blamed his vindictive ex-wife for turning their daughter against him, he also
knew that Lauren, now an adult, could choose to meet him halfway if she really wanted to. Her refusal to do so spoke volumes.

But while Lauren had no use for her father, she apparently didn't feel the same way about her cousin Warrick. When he earned his first million dollars, Lauren was one of the relatives who had crawled out of the woodwork to ask him for money. The first time she'd asked for a loan so that she could attend an elite acting school, promising to pay him back as soon as she “made it big.” When Warrick flatly suggested she contact her father—knowing she never would—Lauren had thrown a tantrum and hung up on him. The next time Warrick heard from her, she'd called to beg him to introduce her to an actress he was dating, in the hopes that the woman would introduce Lauren to her agent as well as some Hollywood bigwigs. This time Warrick had not minced words, telling his cousin to go straight to hell and to lose his damned number.

He'd never told his uncle about the phone calls. Warrick saw no reason to confirm Randall's worst fear, which was that his only child had turned out to be nothing more than a spoiled brat who used people for her own selfish gain.

“Yeah, Raina's nothing like Lauren,” Randall continued reflectively. “She's got a good head on her shoulders, and a good heart. So don't you go breaking it,” he warned, jabbing a finger at Warrick.

Warrick laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Relax, pops. I'm not interested in Raina like that. And to be honest with you,” he added cynically, remembering with renewed anger what Raina had said to him that morning, “I don't think she'd let me get close enough to hurt her, anyway.”

“Don't be too sure about that. She still—” Randall broke off abruptly and glanced away.

Warrick frowned, eyeing him curiously. “She still what?”

Randall idly watched as Zeke and his young players left the basketball court and filed into the building, presumably for lunch, before he answered, “She still feels bad about what happened with Yolanda and the rest of the family. Raina's a natural-born peacemaker. I can see her letting down her guard with you in an effort to reach some sort of compromise.”

“That would be most helpful,” Warrick muttered under his breath.

Randall glanced sharply at him, his lips thinning with displea
sure. “Which reminds me. Don't think for one second that I didn't read that article in the
Ledger
this morning. Now, I'd like to think I had as much a hand in raising you as your mother did, so I know good and damned well I didn't raise you to become some ruthless corporate shark who preys on others to get what he wants. I don't care how the
Wall Street Journal
chooses to explain your success. That's not the man you are. So I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you had nothing to do with that article—and I use the term loosely—written by your old girlfriend. And since this is the first major business decision you've ever kept from me, for reasons I won't speculate about, I'm also going to assume that you don't have an ulterior motive for choosing the site of Raina's day spa for your new office complex.”