Warrick stiffened, the grin fading from his face.
Noting his reaction, Deniece immediately realized her mistake. She blew out a deep breath and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up such a painful subject.”
“It’s all right,” Warrick said quietly. “You know Yolanda’s never far from my mind.”
Deniece nodded sympathetically. “When does she get out?”
“October ninth. One hundred three days and counting.” Warrick’s chest tightened as he thought about the long anticipated reunion with Yolanda Mayne, a day that promised to be as emotionally charged for his family as the terrible, heart-wrenching day his sister was found guilty in court.
“Have you had a chance to visit her since you’ve been back?” Deniece asked, picking up her fork to resume nibbling on her salad.
Warrick shook his head, his expression grim. “Not yet. She’s asked the family to limit our visits to once a month.”
Deniece frowned. “Once a month? Why?”
“She said she’s getting more anxious as her release date approaches. It’s becoming harder and harder for her to see us for brief, limited periods of time. She said she gets really depressed afterward. So she decided it would be better, for her sake, if we visited less frequently.” He paused, reflecting on how difficult and painful that decision must have been for Yolanda, who, as the baby, had always thrived on the love and attention lavished on her by her family.
“My mother asked me and my brothers to wait until she and Yasmin return from vacation in a few days so we can visit Yolanda together as a family,” Warrick said.
Deniece offered a tentative smile. “Will you tell Yo-Yo I said hello?”
“Of course.” There was only one person Yolanda Mayne never wanted to hear from again, and it wasn’t the woman seated across the table from Warrick.
He frowned, his gaze drifting back to the table where Raina and her date were now lingering over coffee. As Warrick watched the couple, Deniece’s words replayed in his mind.
Deniece was wrong. Raina St. James had never had a crush on him. He would have picked up on something like that, although, admittedly, he’d never paid much attention to any of his baby sister’s friends. His older sister’s friends—definitely. But not Yolanda’s. Besides, Raina had always struck Warrick as cool and aloof, and more than once he’d gotten the impression that she thought she was better than him and his family. He’d seen the way she watched him and his brothers as she passed by the crumbling basketball court where they were playing, her nose wrinkling in distaste at their crass language and the misogynistic rap music blaring from their stereo. Warrick remembered her looking the same way the very first time Yolanda had brought her home from school, when they were ten years old. Raina had taken one look around their ramshackle house filled with hand-me-down furniture, outdated appliances and scuffed floors, and had turned up her nose in disgust. Warrick hadn’t been at all surprised when Yolanda confided to him that Raina’s parents didn’t approve of their daughter hanging out in a Section 8 neighborhood. What had surprised him was how often Raina had come back. For whatever reason, she had seemed to prefer spending time at their house over her own—a single-story brick home with large windows and a tidy yard in one of the few middle-class suburbs in the Third Ward. That was about all Warrick had ever seen of the place, as he’d never stuck around long enough to be invited inside whenever he dropped Raina off at home.
Yolanda had usually tagged along for the ride, but on the few occasions when she’d been forced to stay behind to finish her chores, Warrick had been stuck trying to make small talk with Raina, who had gazed out the window and answered in monosyllables until Warrick finally gave up and turned on the radio to fill the silence.
He sure as hell didn’t remember Raina staring at him or giving him the slightest impression she wanted attention. It had been just the opposite.
The more Warrick thought about it, the more he was convinced that Deniece was seriously delusional. Raina had never had a crush on him. And he thanked God for that.
The warmth of Deniece’s hand upon his brought Warrick back to the present. He pulled his gaze from Raina’s table and looked at Deniece. She had finished eating and was smiling seductively at him.
“I was going to say penny for your thoughts,” she murmured, “but considering how much you’re worth, you would probably charge more than that.”
Warrick chuckled, lacing their fingers together on the table. “Wanna know what I was thinking? I was wondering whatever happened to the country girl who used to throw down with me, the girl who could eat a platter of ribs, brisket and sausage with a helping of potato salad and beans without batting an eyelash.”
Deniece smiled, shaking her head at him. “I’m not seventeen anymore, Warrick. My metabolism isn’t what it used to be, so I have to watch what I eat nowadays. Unless you want to be embarrassed to have me on your arm the next time we appear in public together.”
Warrick gave her a soft, teasing smile. “Who says there’s going to be a next time?”
Deniece laughed, a low, sultry sound. “Oh, there will be. Trust me. I might not be able to eat barbecue the way I used to, but I can assure you that there are plenty of other things I can do just as well, if not better.” Leaning close to Warrick, she purred in his ear, “By the time I get through with you tonight, baby, you’ll wonder how you could have stayed away so long.”
Warrick needed no convincing. Without another word, he signaled for the check.
If Raina thought she’d be able to escape the restaurant without having to deal with Warrick, she soon discovered otherwise.
She was standing in the foyer waiting for Bradford to retrieve his car from the parking garage when a low, rumbling voice drawled, “How was dinner?”
Raina spun around, startled to find Warrick directly behind her. He stood so close she could smell him, soap mingled with the subtle fragrance of a very expensive cologne. So close that she could feel his heat and the masculine energy that surrounded him like a crackling force field, electrifying her senses. Blindsiding her.
She took a hasty step backward, her face flushing when those sensual lips twitched. She started to tell him it was rude to invade other people’s personal space, but she didn’t want to sound uptight, nor did she want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d rattled her. Because he had, damn him.
“Dinner was fine,” she said curtly.
A faintly mocking smile curved his mouth. “Yeah, I could tell.”
Bristling, Raina glared up at him. “What’s that supposed to mean? Were you spying on me or something?”
“Maybe.”
Raina didn’t know how to respond to that. Really, how could she respond? “Where’s your date?” she asked instead.
“In the ladies’ room. Yours?”
“He went to get the car.”
Warrick raised one thick black brow, an amused gleam in his eyes. “Too cheap to pay for valet parking?”
“No!” Raina said vehemently, incensed because the same thought had occurred to her. Especially in light of what had happened a few minutes ago. When the bill had arrived, Bradford had suggested offhandedly that he and Raina split the tab. She’d been too stunned to protest, nodding mutely and reaching for her purse. She’d have to process her feelings later, after the shock wore off.
And speaking of Bradford, she thought, what on earth was taking him so long?
“How long have you been dating that pretty boy?”
Raina was so startled by the question that it took her a moment to recover and respond. “None of your damn business,” she snapped.
Warrick chuckled softly, and Raina realized that he was deliberately baiting her, trying to get a rise out of her. And she was playing right into his hands.
Deciding to fight fire with fire, she made an exaggerated show of glancing around the elegant foyer and saying sweetly, “Gee, I wonder what’s taking Deniece so long? Maybe you should go check up on her. You know, to make sure she�
�s not bent over a toilet puking up that enormous salad she had for dinner.”
Warrick inclined his head, his eyes glinting with amusement and a trace of grudging respect. “Touché.”
Raina felt a perverse twinge of satisfaction.
It didn’t last long.
“I find it interesting,” Warrick said very casually, “that you noticed what my date was eating from all the way across the room. Were you spying on us or something?”
Raina blinked, heat crawling up her neck and spreading across her cheeks.
Warrick’s mouth curved in a slow, triumphant grin.
Raina pivoted abruptly and walked to the opposite end of the foyer, looking out the window at the circular driveway bustling with the arrival and departure of luxury vehicles. Well-dressed men and women swept through the doors of the restaurant and were ceremoniously ushered to the dining room by the maître d’.
Where the hell was Bradford?
Raina stiffened as Warrick came up beside her at the window. What did the infuriating man want?
“I have to say, Raina,” he murmured, his deep, dark voice brushing across her skin like a whispered caress, “you’ve really come into your own. I can’t get over how beautiful you look.”
Raina’s stomach bottomed out.
She turned her head and found Warrick staring down at her, his hooded eyes roaming across her face in a way that did dangerous things to her pulse. There was a time she would have given anything to have him look at her the way he was looking at her now, to hear him say the things he was saying to her now. But it had never happened before, and over time she’d been forced to relinquish the fantasy to hard, cold reality. And the reality was that Warrick Mayne despised her and blamed her for his sister’s downfall. And now he wanted to punish her by putting her out of business.
She must never, ever forget that. If she let down her guard even for one second, this man could—and would—destroy her.
“Nice try, Warrick,” she said sardonically, “but it’s going to take a hell of a lot more than cheap flattery to get me to hand over my property to you.”
The barest hint of a smile curved his lips. “I wish I could say I was only trying to flatter you,” he said softly, “but I meant what I said. You are beautiful, Raina. Incredibly beautiful. Only a damned fool would deny the obvious.”
Her heart thudded. She swallowed, unable to look away from him. He gazed back at her.
“Well, well, well. Isn’t this a touching little reunion?”
Raina glanced around sharply to find Deniece Labelle standing there. She was frowning, her eyes narrowed as she divided a speculative look between Raina and Warrick.
“Deniece,” Raina murmured with a polite nod.
The other woman moved closer to Warrick, linking her arm possessively through his. As she looked Raina up and down, her red lips curled in a smirk, as if she’d seen something amusing.
For one awful moment Raina felt like she was twelve years old again, standing at the front door of Yolanda Mayne’s house after her sister had dropped her off for Warrick’s high-school graduation cookout. Raina was carrying a gift-wrapped present she’d handpicked for Warrick and wearing a brand-new sundress she’d thought was so pretty. Until Deniece opened the door, took one look at the bright flowers bordering the hem of her dress, and burst out laughing.
Raina gave herself a mental shake, dismissing the humiliating memory.
“So,” Deniece began conversationally, “how’s business, Raina?”
“Can’t complain,” Raina answered neutrally, knowing it was a loaded question. Deniece Labelle could care less about Raina or her business. Judging by the malicious gleam in her eyes, it was clear she had an ulterior motive for asking the question.
Raina didn’t have to wait long to find out what it was. “I’m sorry to say that I’ve never been to Touch of Heaven,” Deniece said snidely. “I only patronize the Uptown Day Spa around the corner. It’s a bit pricier than your spa, but, well, you get what you pay for.”
Raina flashed a cool, narrow smile. “I’m sure that’s what Warrick will be saying when you wake up together tomorrow morning.”
Deniece’s face pinched with anger.
Before she could retaliate, one of the valets stuck his head through the door and said, “Mr. Mayne? Thank you for your patience, sir. Your car is ready.”
Raina watched as Warrick escorted Deniece outside to the gleaming black Bentley waiting at the curb. He helped her gently inside and closed the door, then tipped the young parking attendant, whose eyes widened appreciatively at the generous offering.
Before climbing behind the wheel Warrick paused, his dark gaze returning to Raina where she stood inside the foyer. Their eyes met.
She lifted her chin.
Warrick winked at her, then ducked inside the car.
Her stomach was still fluttering when the tinted passenger window slid down halfway. Deniece gave Raina a look of vicious triumph before the Bentley rolled away.
A moment later Bradford pulled up across the street and waved Raina over, because the restaurant’s driveway was reserved for valet-parked vehicles only. He apologized profusely for the delay, citing a heavy volume of traffic in the parking garage. Raina could only smile and nod, wondering how what had started off as such a promising evening had ended so abysmally.
Chapter 4
When Raina arrived at the office the following morning, she had a voice-mail message from Tyler Ralston, the owner of Ralston Development. He left his cell phone, office and home phone numbers, asking Raina to call him back to “discuss an urgent matter.”
And so it begins.
Heaving a deep, resigned sigh, Raina dialed the office number and was put through immediately to Tyler Ralston. “Why, hello there, Miss St. James!” he greeted her, his voice a broad, gravelly drawl that reverberated across the phone line. “Thanks so much for returning my call.”
“No problem. What can I do for you, Mr. Ralston?”
He guffawed. “No need to be so formal! We’ve been neighbors for two years now. Just call me Ty.”
“All right,” Raina murmured, resisting the urge to roll her eyes toward the ceiling. “How can I help you?”
“Well…since you asked. I understand that Warrick Mayne was in the area yesterday. I was just wondering if you had an opportunity to visit with him.”
This time Raina did roll her eyes. Visit with him? As if she’d had Warrick over for tea and scones?
“As a matter of fact,” she said evenly, “I did have an opportunity to speak to Mr. Mayne.”
“Good, good. Then you already know all about his plans to relocate his company headquarters to Houston. Did he show you the architectural drawings of the proposed office complex? It’s quite impressive. Over three hundred thousand square feet of office space, a high-tech laboratory, an atrium, a five-star restaurant, an Italian-style courtyard, even a fountain out front.”
As Tyler Ralston babbled on, Raina wondered if Warrick had put the man up to making his sales pitch for him.
“Unfortunately,” she interrupted Ralston’s gushing recitation of the planned facility, “I didn’t get a chance to view the architectural renderings, but I’m sure the new office complex is every bit as lovely and ultramodern as you say it is, Mr. Ralston.”
“Oh, it is. Most assuredly.” He sounded a little piqued. “But I don’t understand why you didn’t get to see it for yourself. Mr. Mayne and his people came out to my office just last week. Did an entire presentation for me and my brother. Took us out for dinner and drinks afterward. Really gave us the royal treatment.”
“Yes, well, Mr. Mayne and I didn’t get quite that far,” Raina said sardonically. She didn’t want—or expect—Warrick to wine and dine her. There was nothing he could say or do to convince her to sell her property to him. And he must have known that when he showed up at the spa yesterday minus “his people” and the bells-and-whistles presentation.
“Perhaps you and Mr. Mayne can reschedule a
time to—”
“I’m afraid not, Mr. Ralston.” Raina refused to call the man Ty.
“Why not?” he demanded. “Why don’t you want to set up another meeting with him?”
“Because it’s not necessary,” Raina said in a calm, carefully measured voice. “As I explained to Mr. Mayne, I’m not interested in selling my property. To him or anyone else.”
“Well, that’s just crazy talk,” Ralston scoffed. “Do you have any idea who Warrick Mayne is? Do you have any idea how much he can pay you for that piece of land you’re sitting on?”
“I’m well aware of who Warrick Mayne is and how much his company is worth. It’s not about the money for me, Mr. Ralston. I happen to enjoy running my spa. It’s in a great location, and business is very good.”
“That may be so, Miss St. James, but with all due respect, a company the size of Mayne Industries can do a helluva lot more good for this community than your little spa ever could.”
Raina bristled. “That’s your opinion.”
Ralston snorted rudely. “Think again. Mayne Industries already employs over two thousand people. The new headquarters will accommodate close to five thousand. That means the creation of new jobs, which stimulates economic development and growth in the community. Furthermore, Miss St. James, having a high-profile company like Mayne Industries headquartered in Houston can only attract more corporations, and like it or not, that, too, is good for the local economy. I can assure you that Warrick Mayne will have no trouble convincing the planning commission, or the general public, that the presence of his company in Houston is best for everyone.”
By the time Tyler Ralston had finished speaking—or, rather, lecturing—Raina could feel the onset of a headache. She pinched the bridge of her nose and drew a deep breath, striving for patience.
“Are you finished, Mr. Ralston?” she said levelly.
“Not by a long shot!” he blustered. “Now you listen here, young lady. I knew the couple who owned that property before you. Knew ’em for twenty years. And I can tell you right now that they would’ve had the good sense to recognize what a golden opportunity this is!”
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