Ray shivered, newly comforted by the pleasantly warm air brushing her skin. Her coat had been removed by one of the indoor attendants, staunchly formal in a white tuxedo with tails.
“Okay?” Barker asked, smoothing his hands over Ray’s shoulders beneath her gown’s chiffon jacket.
Her nod was a dazed one as she took in the elaborate surroundings. She gasped when her eyes set on the massive tree tucked in the far corner of the main room they faced. Barker was shaking hands with the man who stood greeting the influx of guests. Ray pulled her eyes from the tree when she heard the man laugh and say Barker’s name. She smiled, enjoying the happiness brightening Barker’s ebony stare as he returned the warm greeting.
“Ray.” He turned, drawing her closer. “This is Jack Lindsey. He manages this place.”
Ray blinked, offering her hand and hoping she didn’t look as surprised as she felt to be meeting a household manager. She didn’t even think Jaz Beaumont had claimed one of those.
Jack’s greeting was warm and genuine nevertheless. Within seconds, he had someone supplying her and Barker with flutes of crisp champagne. He then urged them to have a wonderful time, and Barker and Rayelle headed into the guest-filled main room.
“Do you want to dance or eat first?” Barker asked.
“Why don’t we just get the hard part out of the way?” Ray gave a sigh, as though to prepare herself. “You brought me here to meet your family, didn’t you?”
“I certainly hope so!” an elegant female voice responded before Barker could reply.
The couple turned. Ray watched Barker lean down to kiss the woman’s mouth before setting his face against her neck. He straightened and turned to Ray.
“Rayelle Keats, this is Monika Grant, my mother.”
Chapter 8
Ray doubted there had ever been a time when she’d been so equally suspended between surprise and disbelief. Both, however, had stemmed from the fact that the dark, beautiful woman Barker kissed could have a full-grown son.
“No way,” Ray heard herself breathe.
The unintended, audible comment summoned a hearty melodious laugh from Monika Grant. “I like her already, Bari!” she told her son.
“So do I.” Barker’s expression was fixed, and read of desire and approval.
“Well, yes, young lady, I’m in fact this guy’s mother.”
Ray closed her eyes briefly and swallowed. “Mrs. Grant I—I’m—”
“Don’t you dare apologize. A comment like that is exactly the kind of thing a woman wants to hear—especially when she’s celebrating another birthday.” Monika Grant’s eyes sparkled with playful mischief and apparent satisfaction as she studied the woman on her son’s arm.
“You’ve brought me a lovely one, Bari,” she said. “I hope this won’t be my only time meeting her.”
“It won’t be.” Barker’s tone was soft, and yet confirmation rang heavily through the words.
“Well—” Monika Grant gave Ray’s arm a tug “—just in case it is, we should get to know each other. Go get me a drink, Bari,” she said without a look to her only child.
Barker maintained his hold on Ray. “How about we all go?”
Monika rolled her eyes. “Ever notice how stubborn reporters can be, Rayelle?”
Ray laughed. “I have!”
“So how long have you and Bari been seeing each other?”
“We’ve been friends almost a year.”
“Friends.”
“Just friends, Ma.” Barker knew all too well how...romantically his mother’s mind could work.
“Interesting,” Monika murmured. “How very interesting.”
“You have a lovely home, Mrs. Grant.” Ray observed her surroundings with renewed awe.
Monika Grant’s expression was several shades removed from awe-filled. “It’s my brother-in-law’s place. My birthday’s near Christmas, so it tends to be all about me this time of year.”
“Like it wouldn’t be, anyway.” Barker used his free hand to draw his mother closer.
“Hush,” Monika Grant ordered, even as she smiled over the kiss Barker put to the top of her head. “You need to be thinking about when you’re going to bring Rayelle to see me.”
“You know, you could at least give me the chance to ask her to come with me to your actual birthday party.”
“Ah.” Monika swatted away the plan. “I expect some time to get to know Miss Rayelle before that.”
“Time to get to know what?”
“That’s between me and Rayelle for now, isn’t it?”
“I disagree.”
Again, Monika rolled her eyes toward Ray. “Remember what I said about reporters?” She sighed. “Well, can I at least introduce her to the family?”
“Depends.” Barker smiled when his mother laughed.
“Don’t worry.” She gave another wave. “This one only gets introduced to the best.” With that, Monika took Ray’s arm and led her on ahead of Barker and deeper into the gaily decorated room.
* * *
“Deb!” Moments later, Monika was calling out to a tall, willowy dark woman whose hair was pulled back into a severe bun that took nothing away from the warmth in her luminous maple gaze.
“Rayelle Keats, Barker’s cousin, Debra Grant. This is her father’s lovely house,” Monika continued.
Debra greeted the new arrivals with holiday wishes and laughed as Barker drew her into a warm hug.
“Deb, Rayelle is Bari’s friend.”
“Ma,” Barker called in warning.
“They’ve been friends for almost a year,” Monika went on.
“A year?” The info apparently intrigued Debra, as well. She seemed to stop herself before tumbling too deeply into her aunt’s speculation. “Well, now...that’s wonderful.”
Ray shook her head at the women. “You two make it sound like Barker has no friends.”
“No lady friends,” Debra clarified.
“None he ever brings to visit the likes of us anyway,” Monika added.
“Hey!”
“Friends, Bari.” Monika quelled Barker’s attempt at disagreeing.
Debra joined in. “For almost a year.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Monika flashed an adoring look to her niece. “Friends, Bari, not flavors of the month.”
By then, Ray was laughing over the serve and volley between aunt and niece and Barker’s inability to do anything to stop it. She was still laughing when he took her arm.
“We’re going to dance,” he decided.
Ray only smiled as Monika’s and Debra’s laughter followed them.
* * *
“So... I’m a friend and not a flavor of the month, huh?” Ray queried when they were on the dance floor moments later. “At least that tells me your family doesn’t know about our weekend together.”
“That weekend meant a lot to me.” His voice was as quiet as the look in his dark eyes as he gazed down at her from their embrace.
Ray was still smiling slyly until she noted the utter seriousness on his face. “It meant a lot to me, too.” Her tone had gone equally quiet.
Barker cupped her chin on his palm before she could say more. Self-conscious then, Ray cast cautious looks around the dance floor, but saw that she and Barker didn’t appear to be drawing very much attention from the room.
The trees, twenty feet if they were an inch, stood on either side of the dance floor. They illuminated the room with generous splashes of white gold. A trio of massive chandeliers poured similar lighting upon the dense crowd. The dance floor was decoratively sprinkled with a powdery dust that gave its users the sensation of twirling amidst snow.
“It’s all just so beautiful,” she breathed, wholly immersed in her surroundings.
“Ray?”
She didn’t take note of Barker calling her n
ame. “Gosh, that band—I heard them play years ago at a party I went to with Ms. J. Talk about an upscale crowd—”
“Rayelle?”
She heard him then, saw how serious he’d become. “Are you all right?” she asked.
“I’ll be better when you start taking me seriously.” He sighed. “Guess I’ll need to tap into that fear of yours again before that happens, huh?”
“Barker...”
“I want what you seem hell-bent on withholding, Ms. Keats. I want you, and not only what you let me have in bed—your body—but all you have to give. I want it for a long time, Ray.”
He didn’t dare say he wanted forever—not yet. He wasn’t trying to send her into a state of shock, but he needed her to know he was serious. It was clear she didn’t think he was, if her smile was a hint.
“I think you’re just feeling a little left out.” Ray gave a flirty tug to Barker’s jacket lapel. “All your friends are either married or about to be—”
“Ray—”
“Now, now, don’t get testy.” She savored the lightness of the moment as they danced. “Maybe you’re feeling like you have to make the same moves, to get as close to meaningful as you can get.”
Barker shook his head, silently marveling over how tough she was. So damned determined not to put herself in any position where she could risk getting hurt.
“Ray, what I feel for you has nothing to do with my friends.” He grunted a laugh. “If it did, I’d have been in a serious relationship a long time ago. Tig, Linus and Rook have been in love with the same women forever, you know?”
“Mmm, and now Eli’s about to join the club.”
Barker spread his hands and then let them fall back to her waist, where they’d rested. “You’ve got me there,” he said.
“See?”
“Mmm-hmm.” He followed the admission with a kiss.
Even if she were a lovesick romantic, Ray believed she wouldn’t have been able to conjure a more perfect moment. The music was sublime in all its mushy, holiday wonderment. It combined with the quiet lighting and the air that was fragrant with cider, cinnamon and all the appropriate aromas of the season, which sent her contentment into overdrive.
Correction, being kissed in such exquisite surroundings by the likes of Barker Grant sent her contentment into overdrive. He kissed her like they were the only two in the room. She heard the warning bells, but was too selfish about her pleasure to relinquish a moment of it. She could feel Barker’s fingers slipping inside the heart-shaped cut along her dress’s bodice, and intentionally heaved her chest to absorb as much of the caress as she could. She wanted him closer than what kneading his arms would allow, and was moving to encircle his neck when they were jostled by a passing guest.
“Easy, Bar, I’m sure the lady wouldn’t mind being taken to a room.”
Ray sensed the shift in Barker’s mood with admirable speed. Quickly, she curled her fingers into his jacket sleeves to prevent him from going after the man who had commented. It all happened so suddenly, she was surprised she’d even thought to grab Barker as fast as she had.
“I’m all right,” he said.
“Sure about that?” Ray kept her tone encouraging. “Because I’m seeing your face right now, and I think you’re barely holding yourself back.” She shifted to look past him. “Who was that guy?”
If possible, Barker’s expression went chillier. “My cousin Dean—my uncle Dale’s son.”
“Debra’s brother?” Her surprise was sharp.
“Yeah.” Barker grinned. “Believe me, she got all the decency genes in the family.”
“Guess I won’t be meeting the rest of her immediate family.”
“Not if I have anything to say about it. Introducing you to the slime of my relations isn’t the way I’ll convince you to become part of my family.”
Ray reared back as though she’d been struck. She was sure she’d heard right, though unsure if she should remark on it. The decision was taken from her hands when someone called to Barker.
“Saltz!” Renewed surprise and quiet suspicion flavored Barker’s greeting to the tall, stout man who had approached. “LaMours not keeping you busy enough? You’re working the stoves here, too?”
Steve Saltzman laughed with all the gregariousness one would expect from a man his size. “I’m actually here as a guest.”
“Well, well,” Barker mused and then gave Ray a squeeze. “Rayelle Keats, meet one of the best chefs in Philly. Steve Saltzman.”
“One of?” Saltzman faked offense while reaching for Ray’s hand. “A pleasure, Ms. Keats.”
“Same here. I’ll have to put LaMours on my list,” she said.
“Bring this guy.” Saltzman inclined his head toward Barker. “Have him handle the check.”
“I like that idea.” Ray gave a savory smile and nudged Barker’s side. “I’m gonna find the ladies’ room. It was nice to meet you.” She favored Steven Saltzman with a smile and moved on through the crowd.
“Barker, Barker, always finding the most incredible beauties to put on your arm,” Saltzman commended.
“Don’t tell me you’re here on your own? Or is this a scouting trip for your next gig?”
Saltzman chuckled. “I’m seriously here to socialize.”
“Impressive—never thought I’d see the day. You live for the kitchen.”
A hint of melancholy surged in Saltzman’s blue eyes. “It’s time I faced the fact that the kitchen won’t ever get me a place like this.” He scanned the grand ballroom surrounding them.
“So you’re finally deciding to live.” Barker nodded his approval.
Saltzman shrugged. “You could say that.”
“I get it.” Melancholy fused into Barker’s reply, as well.
Saltzman appeared intrigued. “Reporter’s grind getting to you, eh?”
“Just don’t think I know what it’s all for anymore—nothing changes.” Barker sent a bland look around the room then. “Half the time I find myself asking if the things that do change are necessary. So long as no one’s getting hurt or killed, why should I care about pulling the wool off and busting my hump to see they’re brought to justice?”
“You sound like a man who needs to unwind, Bar.”
“Workin’ on it.” Barker produced a purely devilish look.
“Right. Guess there’s no need to convince you. I saw your lady. That serious?”
“What man wouldn’t want it to be with a woman like her?” Barker spoke honestly, and not only to lure Steven Saltzman into a false sense of comradery so that the man would tell him what he wanted to know. He sighed, shrugging off the moment. “So, where’s your date for the evening?”
It was Saltzman’s turn to appear devilish. “Dates,” he clarified, and joined Barker in a burst of boisterous laughter. “Would you believe it if I told you I found something more satisfying than women?”
“Never.”
“How about longer lasting?”
“Believable.”
Saltzman rolled a meaty shoulder beneath his gray tux. “I may not have found a pot of gold in my kitchen, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t one to be found.”
“Did you find it speaking in riddles?” Barker accused.
“Pays to be cautious, and anyway—” Saltzman gave a flippant wave “—such things wouldn’t interest you, being heir to the Grant mega-millions.”
Barker gave a wave of his own. “Sometimes a man needs to make his own way—with fewer strings. I like it that way.”
“Hmph. I doubt I’d care about strings if mega-millions were involved.”
“Walk a mile in my shoes, Saltz.”
Saltzman looked to the Oxfords Barker wore. “Judging from the price tag on those, I’ll take you up on that anytime.”
There was more laughter, and the men parted ways soon after.
* * *
Ray appreciated finding the powder room free when she reached it after excusing herself from Barker and his chef friend. Powder suite was more like it, she thought, eyeing the space that radiated welcome and elegance with its white-oak-paneled walls, mauve throw rugs and upholstered chairs. Countless glass dishes carried individually wrapped hand soaps, lotions or other trinkets. Some fresh, fruity fragrance seemed to have been piped in through the vents, along with a quietly beckoning flute and piano piece.
Ray stood before the windows and absorbed it all. Hands folded beneath the scalloped edge of one of the cream-colored sinks, she forced her heart to slow its pace. The reaction had hit her out of nowhere mere moments before they left the dance floor.
The reaction may have been a surprise. The reason for it...well, she’d seen that coming all too well, hadn’t she? Even so, she doubted she’d admit it to anyone—even Clarissa. She’d fallen in love with Barker Grant. Smiling then, Ray imagined Barker’s shock were she to tell him that everything he said he wanted, she wanted, too. She probably had for far longer than she had even realized.
Still...she felt her hands unclench around the sink. She’d tried to talk him out of it. In spite of her feelings, in spite of his, Barker Grant deserved to be in love with a woman who wouldn’t add a ton of baggage to his life. And, boy, did she have baggage...
Sure, she’d triumphed over much of it. She wouldn’t be who she was without having done a great deal of that. Yet the sly comment thrown their way by his cousin had spoken volumes. It was just what Barker would be setting himself up for with her on his arm. Their relationship would be enough of a challenge. Left and right, they’d be fielding innuendos from outsiders who knew her late mentor. They’d assume her to be the woman’s reincarnation. She wouldn’t have Barker fielding such garbage from his own family. Regardless of whatever drama already existed between them, she wouldn’t be the cause of any more.
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