“Where’s dessert?” Reese St. James demanded upon finding her younger sister standing on her doorstep empty-handed.
Raina blinked at her, momentarily baffled. Then as comprehension dawned, she slapped a hand to her forehead and groaned. She had forgotten all about picking up dessert on her way to Reese’s house. She could thank Warrick for that.
She grimaced sheepishly. “Sorry. I forgot.”
“Yes, I can see that.” Heaving a dramatic sigh of resignation, Reese opened the door wider and gestured Raina inside. “I suppose I should still feed you.”
“Gee, thanks,” Raina muttered, shooting her sister a rueful grin as she entered the house. The hot, appetizing aroma of marinara sauce, oregano and garlic filled her nostrils. “Mmm, something smells wonderful. New recipe?”
“Of course. Got it from one of the nurses at the—” Suddenly Reese let out a shocked gasp. “Oh my God! Are those…handprints on your ass?”
What?
Raina whipped her head around, craning her neck to inspect her backside. To her everlasting consternation, she saw that her sister was right. She did have handprints on her butt. Two large, grease-stained handprints, glaringly obvious in the bright light that spilled from a crystal chandelier suspended above the foyer.
As an embarrassed flush stole across Raina’s face, she mentally groaned. Of all the days she had to wear white jeans.
Or, rather, of all the days she had to make out with a man she wasn’t supposed to be making out with.
You did a hell of a lot more than make out with him, her conscience reminded her. Her face grew even hotter as her sister continued staring incredulously at her.
“I, uh, must have sat in something,” Raina lied.
Reese snorted. “Like hell! Those are a man’s handprints, Raina, and judging by the size of them, I’d say they belonged to a very tall, strapping man.” She grinned at her sister, her eyes alight with avid curiosity. “Girl, what have you been doing this afternoon? Who had his big, greasy hands all over your butt? The friendly neighborhood mechanic?”
Raina wished it were that simple. She wished she could fabricate a story about stopping at the local auto repair shop to get an oil change, only to wind up being harassed and groped by some lecherous mechanic. Why not? Those guys hit on her and her sister all the time, so it could happen, right? But the only problem with telling Reese such a story—apart from it being an outright lie that would wrongfully malign an innocent mechanic—was that her overprotective big sister would drag her down to the auto shop, and after forcing Raina to point out the offender, Reese would proceed to light into the man, ending her scathing diatribe with the threat of a lawsuit. A threat she would undoubtedly make good upon.
Unfortunately, Raina realized, there was no getting around telling her sister the truth about what had happened between her and Warrick that afternoon.
But she tried anyway. “It’s really not important,” she said dismissively, turning and heading for the kitchen.
“Not important?” Reese was hot on her heels, her bare feet slapping against the gleaming hardwood floor. “You show up here fifteen minutes late for dinner—with no dessert, mind you—and a man’s handprints all over your ass, and you say it’s not important?”
Raina ducked into the large gourmet kitchen and made a beeline for the stainless-steel double oven built into the wall. She opened the door and peered inside, her mouth watering at the sight of a delicious-looking casserole bubbling with cheese and marinara sauce.
“What is this?” she breathed.
“Gnocchi di ricotta,” Reese answered, striding into the room. “I got the recipe from one of the nurses at the hospital. She says it was a staple of her grandfather’s restaurant back in Italy. She made it for her husband when they were dating, and he proposed to her that very same night.”
Raina chuckled. “In that case, you’re wasting it on me. You should be making it for that hunky neurosurgeon you’re always drooling over, the one with the dark, soulful eyes and gifted hands.”
Reese rolled her eyes. “First of all,” she said, closing the oven door and slapping Raina’s hand away when she tried to sneak another peek at the casserole, “I do not drool over Dr. Carracci. How juvenile do you think I am? And second of all, he’s not a neurosurgeon. He’s a cardiothoracic surgeon. One operates on the brain; the other operates on the heart and lungs. Capisci?”
Raina grinned. “Aww, isn’t that sweet? He’s even got you speaking Italian.”
Reese jabbed a manicured finger at her, dark eyes narrowed in warning. “Keep it up, little girl, and the closest you’ll get to eating an Italian meal tonight is the takeout pizza your behind will have to order on the way home.”
Raina laughed, holding up her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay! You don’t have to withhold your cooking from me. Sheesh, that’s just cruel, Reesey.”
Her sister chuckled dryly as she crossed to the Sub-Zero refrigerator and began removing vegetables to make a salad. “Speaking of Italians with gifted hands, you still haven’t told me the identity of the Leonardo da Vinci who left his masterpiece all over your rear end. You’re not getting off the hook that easily.”
Raina sighed. She should have known her sister wouldn’t let the matter go. Growing up, Reese St. James had always been the more persistent of the two sisters, never settling for the simple explanations their parents gave them about everything from the existence of the tooth fairy to how babies were conceived. (And considering her fascination with the latter, it was no wonder she grew up to become an obstetrician.) Nothing ever got by Reese, and like a dog with a bone, she never let anything go. But while her relentless nature had often driven her family crazy, it had served Reese well in life, getting her through medical school and a string of bad relationships, including a painful breakup with her cheating fiancé three years ago.
Heaving another resigned sigh, Raina walked over to the large center island that boasted an electric cooktop and enough counter space to accommodate six barstools. She perched on one of the stools, reached for a gourmet cookbook—culinary arts would have been Reese’s second career choice—and began flipping through the glossy pages to avoid her sister’s speculative gaze.
“I was with Warrick,” she mumbled into the book.
At the other end of the island, Reese paused in the middle of chopping sun-dried tomatoes. “What did you just say?”
Raina blew out a deep breath and repeated in a louder, clearer voice, “I was with Warrick this afternoon.”
Reese’s eyes narrowed on her face. “Warrick who?”
Raina gave her a look. “There’s only one Warrick.” How true that is!
Reese stared at her. “You mean to tell me you were with Warrick Mayne this afternoon?”
Raina nodded.
“I didn’t even know he was back in town,” her sister exclaimed.
“He is.” God help me!
Reese set aside her knife, tomatoes forgotten. Her incredulous expression matched her equally incredulous tone. “So let me get this straight. Warrick Mayne, whom you haven’t seen or spoken to in twelve years, is back in town. And you…spent the afternoon with him?”
Raina cringed, her face flushing. “It wasn’t like that. Not like what you’re thinking.” It came pretty damned close though!
She hastened to explain herself. “I dropped by his uncle’s house to see one of his latest classic cars. Warrick was already there when I arrived and—”
Reese shook her head. “See, that’s why I’ve always warned you about hanging out with Randall Mayne. You just never know when one of his despicable family members—in this case, Warrick—will stop by for a visit, putting you in a very awkward position.”
Raina flashed on a mental image of the position she had been in with Warrick that afternoon. Awkward definitely wasn’t the first word that came to mind.
Reese was still lecturing her. “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times that your friendship with Randall is a bad idea
. But, nooo, the two of you insist on sneaking around behind his family’s back, almost like a pair of rebellious teenage lovers!”
Raina sputtered in indignation. “Teenage lovers! Have you lost your mind? Randall is old enough to be my father, and he’s always been like one to me.”
“He’s not that old.”
“He’s fifty-six, Reese. I’m thirty. Trust me, he’s old enough to be my father.”
Reese snorted. “That didn’t stop Meggie from hooking up with Father de Bricassart. Remember how romantic we thought their relationship was when we saw The Thorn Birds when we were growing up?”
Raina laughed, shaking her head. “This ain’t a miniseries, and I’m not in love with Warrick’s uncle! If anything, you’re the one who used to ogle him in his police uniform—you and all your silly little friends. You guys are the ones who used to giggle and whisper about how fine and sexy Randall was.”
Reese grinned. “Was? Hell, that man is still fine and sexy as all get out, pushing sixty or not. If he were just ten years older than me, instead of twenty-two, I might have to give him the time of day. God knows he’s the only decent one in that family.”
Raina said nothing. She knew that when it came to her sister’s feelings about the Mayne family, there was no love lost.
Arms folded across her busty chest, Reese arched a perfectly sculpted brow at Raina. The manicured eyebrow was courtesy of Tina at the spa. The disapproving expression was very much Reese’s. “Well? I’m still waiting.”
“For what?”
The eyebrow rose higher. “For an explanation of how Warrick’s hands wound up on your behind.”
Raina scowled. “I was trying to explain. You’re the one who interrupted to lecture me about my friendship with Randall.”
Reese just looked at her.
Raina went back to flipping pages in the cookbook. “Anyway, Randall had to make some phone calls, or so he said. While he was gone, Warrick and I got to talking, and, uh, one thing led to another and…We, uh, kissed.”
Dead silence.
“And?” Reese prompted.
“That’s it. We kissed.”
“Judging by those handprints on your butt,” Reese drawled sardonically, “you and Warrick did a helluva lot more than kissing.”
Raina groaned, covering her face with her hands. “All right! Fine! We kissed and fondled each other. A lot! We were in the garage,” she explained, the breathless words tumbling out of her mouth faster than water from a spigot, “and Warrick was working on the car. It was hot as hell, and all I could think about was how incredibly sexy he looked with no shirt on. One minute we were having a perfectly normal conversation. The next thing I knew I was touching his chest, and heaven help me, it felt sooo good. Before I knew it we were kissing, and then we were on the hood of his uncle’s Thunderbird, bumping and grinding like a couple of horny teenagers. And then…and then…”
“What?”
“I came! Right there on top of the car. Fully clothed. I came harder and faster than I’ve ever come in my life. And…and he did, too.” Raina closed her eyes, shuddering all over again.
Once she’d gotten over the shock of her own unbridled response, she remembered being stunned to realize that she could cause a man like Warrick Mayne—a gorgeous, virile, powerful man who had slept with countless women—to lose control in such a way.
After several moments of silence, Raina uncovered her face and hazarded a glance at her sister. Reese was staring at her, mouth agape.
Humiliated, Raina mumbled resentfully, “There? I’ve told you the whole sordid story. Are you satisfied?”
“Are you?”
Raina frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Reese gave her a gentle, pitying look. “You’ve been carrying a torch for that man ever since you were ten years old—over half your life, Raina. Now that you’ve finally had a taste of him, so to speak, was it everything you hoped for? Was it everything you dreamed it would be?”
Dumbfounded, Raina stared at her sister. “You…knew?”
Reese burst out laughing. “What a question! Of course I knew. Come on, Raina, you know you’ve never been able to hide anything from me. Even if you hadn’t walked in here tonight wearing the incriminating evidence, I would have known something was different about you.”
Raina’s frown deepened. She had never told anyone about her feelings for Warrick. Not even Reese, with whom she had always been close. But apparently that didn’t matter. Reese had figured out her sister’s secret all on her own. And although Raina knew she shouldn’t be surprised, she was.
She glared accusingly at Reese. “Did you read my diary?”
Reese snorted. “Girl, please. I had better things to do than snoop in my kid sister’s diary. Besides, I didn’t have to read anything. The look on your face every time Warrick was around told me all I ever needed to know.”
Raina scowled. “What look? I never had a look.”
“Oh, yes, you did.” Reese grinned. “You tried to hide it as much as possible, and you were very convincing, for the most part. But you couldn’t keep up the charade all the time. And, really, who could expect you to? You were just a little girl. Whenever you thought no one else was looking, you would stare at Warrick with such adoration, such admiration, such unrequited longing.” She snickered. “I didn’t know whether to laugh at you or feel sorry for you.”
“Gee, thanks, sis,” Raina muttered darkly.
“Oh, hush. At least I never teased you about it. And I never told anyone else what I knew. I could have, you know. I could have told my friends, or Mom and Dad. I went to high school with Warrick and cheered at his basketball games, and I could have told him at any time that my little sister had the hots for him. But I never did. I didn’t want to embarrass you, and I figured he already had enough girls making fools of themselves over him. He certainly didn’t need another groupie, especially one who was barely in a training bra.” Reese grinned. “Besides, I didn’t want Deniece Labelle trying to kick your ass. Everyone knew that chick was crazy!”
Raina couldn’t help laughing. “I know that’s right!”
Returning to her sun-dried tomatoes, Reese said wryly, “But even if I hadn’t caught you making puppy eyes at Warrick, I still would have been suspicious of you.”
“Why?” Raina asked, though she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
“For starters, you always wanted to hang out over at Yolanda’s house. Even though you knew Mom and Dad had concerns about the safety of their neighborhood, you somehow convinced them to let you spend all that time over there. I guess it didn’t hurt that they liked Randall, and because he was a cop, they took him at his word when he reassured them that the neighborhood was regularly patrolled by the police.”
“It was,” Raina interjected.
“Maybe so, but at the risk of sounding like a snob, Raina, it was still the projects. There could only be one reason you preferred to hang out over there instead of your own clean, safe neighborhood with a lovely park and community swimming pool, and that reason had nothing to do with not wanting to hurt Yolanda’s feelings. Oh, that might have been your reason at first,” Reese said when Raina opened her mouth to protest, “but we both know that over time you stopped worrying about that. In fact, I seem to remember Yolanda wanting to hang out at our house more often.”
Raina grimaced. “Yeah, at first. But she got bored too easily. She always complained that our neighborhood was too quiet and the kids were corny and too uptight. No one played loud music or sat on their porches gossiping and watching cars drive by to see who had a new ride. The girls didn’t jump double Dutch or sit around braiding each other’s hair, and there were no basketball courts to watch the fellas playing with their shirts off.” She sighed, remembering how often she had watched Warrick running up and down the court, his muscles rippling and glistening in the sun, his teeth flashing strong and white against his beautiful dark skin as he laughed and taunted his opponents. How many times had she fantas
ized about what it would be like to touch him, to press her hand against the smooth, solid warmth of his chest and feel the pounding rhythm of his heart, the way she had done today?
Shoving aside the memory, Raina continued, “Anyway, after a while I got tired of hearing Yolanda’s complaints, so it was easier just to hang out at her place.”
“How convenient for you,” Reese said with a knowing smile. “Just as it was convenient for you that we only had one car, and since Dad always had to work late and Mom didn’t drive, Warrick usually had to bring you home. Oh, you used to be floating on cloud nine after he dropped you off. You’d hardly say three words to me or Mom before you ran to your room to scribble furiously in your diary.” Reese chuckled, dumping the chopped tomatoes into a large glass bowl. “I think the day I got my driver’s license and Dad bought me a car was probably the worst day of your life, Raina. You knew it meant no more rides home with Prince Charming.”
Raina gave her sister a surly grin. “I was hoping you would think I was just jealous of you being able to drive before me.”
Reese laughed. “I knew better. Just as I knew that the only reason you wanted to attend all those high-school basketball games was not to watch me cheering on the sidelines, but to watch Warrick play. And even if Yolanda hadn’t always invited you, I know you would have found a way to be at all their family events—the backyard cookouts and picnics at the beach, Warrick’s birthday and graduation parties. Wherever he was, you were never too far behind.” She shook her head, efficiently chopping black olives. “If Mom and Dad had ever suspected what was going on, you would have seen a lot less of Yolanda, I can tell you that. I mean, Warrick was six years older than you, Raina. If he’d been a different type of guy—a pervert—he could’ve tried to take advantage of you. But lucky for you, he barely knew you existed.”
“Lucky me,” Raina murmured broodingly.
Her sister looked up at her, her gaze softening. “Do you want to know when I realized that your feelings for Warrick went deeper than a childhood crush?” she asked quietly.
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