He shook his head. “I should’ve been spending more time with--”
“No, Clayton,” Felicia interrupted him, knowing exactly what he was about to say. “Don’t even go there. You’ve spent more than enough time with Austin, and I appreciate that. But you’re married now, and Austin has to understand that you can’t come around as much as you used to.”
Felicia gave a wry smile to the cousin she had always been close to while growing up. The two of them had always been thought of as the untamed members of the Madaris family even before Clayton had gotten married, when he’d been regarded as Houston’s most eligible bachelor, he made time for Austin, as well as for his nieces and nephews. All the children in the Madaris family thought the world of him.
“You don’t know how much it meant, knowing you were there for Austin when you really didn’t have to be. I’ve never really thanked you for it either,” Felicia said sincerely.
“You don’t have to thank me. We’re family, Felicia,” Clayton said in earnest.
“Yes, we’re family, and I never appreciated that so much until now. I never knew how blessed I was in having all of you until that day I almost lost the most precious person in my life. You were all there for me to lean on when I needed you the most.”
Clayton nodded. He knew exactly what day Felicia was referring to. He and Syneda had returned from their honeymoon in St. Thomas to discover Austin had been rushed to the hospital. The entire Madaris family had gathered in prayer for the little boy, who was fighting for his life.
Since then, the family noticed the changes that had taken place in Felicia. Nearly losing her son had opened her eyes to a number of things. Clayton was proud of how she had turned her life around by getting her priorities straight.
“What do you need us to do?” Syneda asked in a near choked voice after reading the letter. “Tell us, Felicia, and if it’s possible you know we’ll do it.”
Felicia nodded. She really liked the woman Clayton married. They were both attorneys, and the really neat thing was that even before Clayton and Syneda had declared their love for each other, the Madaris family had considered Syneda as a part of their family. Syneda’s best friend, Lorren, was married to Clayton’s oldest brother Justin; Justin and Lorren lived in a small town near Dallas.
“After reading Austin’s letter, I think he wants someone to do all those guy things with him that I can’t do,” Felicia said.
“You can do them,” Clayton said with a chuckle as he remembered just how well she had competed against him and Trask in any sport.
Felicia couldn’t help but grin at Clayton’s comment. “Okay, maybe I can, but I doubt that would make a difference to him, even if Austin knew I used to be an ace at doing guy stuff; in his mind, I’m still a girl. He thinks he needs a man to do certain things with.”
Felicia took a deep breath before continuing. “The reason I came by is to get information on the Big Brothers Program, which is an organization that I know you’re involved with, Clayton. I want to know how I can go about signing up Austin. Although it’s probably too late for him to be matched with a mentor before the holidays, at least he’ll have something to look forward to next year.”
Clayton shook his head somberly. “The Big Brothers organization is a great one, but unfortunately, Austin’s too young to be accepted in the program. The minimum age requirement is six years, so it will be another two years before he’s eligible. And I can’t think of any other mentoring programs around town that doesn’t have an extensive waiting list. There are more young boys needing mentors than there are men who’re willing to give up some of their time to spend with them.”
Felicia nodded. Her features were filled with grim acceptance of what Clayton had just told her.
“But don’t worry. Once I let Dex know what’s going on, I’m sure that, like I plan on doing, he’ll want to spend more time with Austin over the holidays, too.”
Felicia released a heavy sigh. Dex was Clayton’s second older brother, who also lived in Houston. “But Dex has a family of his own. I can’t ask him to give up his family time for Austin. That wouldn’t be fair. This is something I’ll have to work out myself.”
“Where’s Austin now?”
“He’s spending the day with Mom.”
The doorbell sounded and Syneda excused herself to answer it. Clayton checked his watch. “That’s probably Trask. We’re watching the game on the tube today. The Steelers are playing the Cowboys.”
Emotions began swirling inside Felicia at the mention of Trask’s name. She didn’t want to question the heated sensation she suddenly felt in the lower part of her body. “Then I’d better leave. Just last night Trask and I agreed to stay out of each other’s way,” she said, standing and shrugging into her jacket.
“You don’t have to leave, Felicia.”
“Yes, I do, Clayton. The approaching holidays are a time of peace. And peace is a word Trask and I don’t know the meaning of when we’re together.”
Felicia went completely still before forcing herself to turn around. Trask stood leaning against the doorjamb with his arms folded across his chest. And he was glaring at her. But his glare wasn’t all that she saw. For some reason, her gaze zeroed in on his masculine physique. The shirt he wore was tucked neatly into the waistband of a pair of Dockers and it fit snugly across his broad chest. Despite the unfortunate timing of his arrival, a part of her--the part that was now on some sort of an adrenaline high--was glad to see him. She shook her head. If she actually believed that she was glad to see Trask Maxwell, then she had truly gone and lost it. That thought didn’t sit too well with her, and she returned his glare.
“Trust me, big boy, had I known you were going to show up, I would have left long ago. On second thought, maybe I should go ahead and make my day by hanging around and ruining yours,” Felicia said crossly. She just couldn’t help getting on Trask’s nerves any more than he could help getting on hers. The two of them had no hope of ever getting along.
She took a deep breath when Trask straightened to his full, imposing height and walked into the room. She tilted her head back to look up at him when he came to stand before her.
“Has anyone, other than me, ever told you that you have a smart mouth?” Trask asked, frowning. He lifted a dark brow upon noticing her puffy red eyes. His frown was immediately replaced with concern. He grabbed her arm. “Hey, what’s wrong with you?”
Just like the night before when they had touched, a hot, quick sensation ripped through the both of them. But this time Trask didn’t release her.
He didn’t have to. Felicia jerked her arm out of his grip. “There’s nothing wrong with me, Trask, so back off.”
Across the room, the attorney in Clayton knew it was time to intervene, or he would be faced with the possibility of defending one of them against murder charges. He looked at his best friend. “Trask, I have those papers ready for you to sign.” He then turned his attention to his cousin. “And, Felicia, you’re welcome to stay. In fact, you can keep Syneda out of trouble while Trask and I watch the game.”
Syneda threw a surprised, questioning glance at her husband. “I was going to fix dinner. What kind of trouble can I get into in the kitchen?”
Clayton smiled at his wife. “Plenty. You haven’t mastered the art of cooking quite yet.”
Trask began signing the papers Clayton had given him. All of them pertained to the Foundation. He liked sharing a part of himself with the city he loved. That was one of the reasons he established the Trask Maxwell Foundation at the beginning of his professional football career. It was a way to give back to Houston’s youth the same opportunities he had been given. Through his Foundation, countless youth programs had been established to provide disadvantaged youths a chance to succeed in both academics and sports. His foundation also went further by aiding single mothers and senior citizens and by supporting various food drives.
When Trask pushed aside the last of the papers he had signed, a movement outside on the patio caught his attention. Felicia had agreed to stay awhile to help Syneda with the cooking. Evidently the two women decided to move out of the kitchen and throw something on the grill instead.
He watched Felicia, fascinated by her jeans. The tight-fitting denim seemed to mold itself to every curve in her body. He had to remind himself to breathe when he saw her bend over to pick up something, presenting her nicely rounded backside to him. It occurred to Trask that he didn’t see any panty lines. He nearly groaned at the thought of what that possibly meant. His gaze drifted with interest over the rest of her. She had the type of body that could make a man forget almost anything.
With concentrated effort, Trask forced his gaze from the view on the patio to Clayton, who was stuffing the papers into his briefcase. “Okay, Clayton. What’s wrong with Felicia?”
Clayton stopped what he was doing, tilted his head to one side, and considered answering Trask’s question, then thought better of it. “It’s personal.”
Trask shrugged. “So? What’s that supposed to mean, man? Everything with Felicia is personal. I guess she’s upset because she lucked out last night and didn’t find some rich fool to become husband number three.”
Clayton didn’t respond immediately. He stood, picked up the television remote control off the desk, and walked over to the sofa and sat down. “Felicia isn’t looking for a husband, rich or otherwise.”
“Since when?”
“Since she’s gotten her priorities straight. She’s changed, Trask.”
“Oh, no. You’ll never convince me of that.” Trask said, coming to join Clayton on the sofa. “I got sliced with her razor-sharp tongue last night.”
Clayton sighed. “I doubt that will ever change. The two of you have been at it since kindergarten. There are some who even claim the two of you used to throw baby bottles at each other from your cribs while in day care. For some reason you and Felicia seem to enjoy antagonizing each other.” He frowned at Trask. “Don’t you think it’s time to give it a rest?”
“She always starts it,” Trask mumbled as he took the remote out of Clayton’s hand.
Clayton rolled his eyes upward as he took the remote back. “For crying out loud, Trask. Will you just listen to yourself? You sound just like you did in kindergarten, even worse because now you’re a thirty-six-year old man. Don’t you think it’s time for you and Felicia to act your ages?”
Trask opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it when he thought about what might happen if they did act their ages. Somehow he would find a way to assuage this hunger he had developed for her. After all, he was a man with strong needs, and Felicia was definitely one hot number. “Trust me, Clayton, you don’t want that to happen,” he finally said.
Clayton raised a brow. “Why not?”
“Let’s skip it. But I still want to know why she was crying. Either you tell me or I’ll call the uncles to get the scoop.” Trask knew that threatening to call the uncles would start Clayton talking. The last thing anyone needed was for Felicia’s six uncles to get worked up at the thought that something was wrong with their precious, darling niece.
“Why are you so interested in what’s wrong with Felicia, Trask? Why do you even care?”
Trask sighed. He had asked himself that same question a number of times since seeing Felicia’s puffy red eyes. His reply, when it finally came, was surprisingly gentle and totally out of character for him. “Let’s just say that I care for old times’ sake. Felicia and I go back a long way. And although she’s the most exasperating woman I know, I do care.”
Clayton blinked and shook his head as he convinced himself he was wrong. Surely he had not heard a bit of tenderness in Trask’s voice. Or had he?
He stood, deliberated for a few moments, and then walked over to his desk to retrieve the letter. Returning to Trask, he handed it to him. “This is Austin’s letter to Santa.”
Trask raised a brow. “Austin?”
“Yes, Felicia’s four-year-old son. He was the ring bearer in my wedding, remember?”
Trask nodded as he unfolded the letter and began reading.
When he had finished, he lifted his head and looked up at Clayton. His best friend, he noticed, was eyeing him speculatively, as if he was contemplating something. He had been friends with Clayton too long not to know how his mind operated.
Trask crossed his arms over his huge chest and narrowed his gaze at Clayton before saying in a voice edged with steel, “If you love your life, don’t even think it.”
Clayton shrugged as an innocent smile curved his lips. “It was just a thought.”
Trask stood. “Squash it. There’s no way I’ll consider being a holiday dad to Felicia’s kid. No way.”
Trask had never been so anxious for an evening to end as he had tonight. Cherie had been nice ... too nice. She had yessed him to death practically the entire evening. Her plastered smile had become so tiresome that it had downright exhausted him. Never before had he met a woman so agreeable, so easy to get along with, and so outright boring. Even the fact that she was a real head turner hadn’t helped her case.
He shook his head as he opened the door to his condo. He must be getting old and set in his ways. What other excuse could he come up with for being so nit-picky about a woman? The first thing that turned him off was the fact that, when he had arrived to pick her up for dinner, she answered the door with a couple of cats lurking around her heels. He didn’t like cats.