Touch of Heaven (26 page)

A stunned silence swept over the room.

Warrick stared at his mother, the blood draining from his head. “What are you talking about?”

“Yes, Birdie,” Randall said, his voice as rigid as his body, “what
are
you talking about?”

She looked at each of them in turn, her eyes glinting with vicious satisfaction. “You heard what I said.”

Warrick shook his head slowly. “I don't think I did.”

“You're just like
him,
” she spat, pointing at Randall. “Just like your father!”

Warrick felt like he'd been leveled in the gut with a steel crane. The air whooshed out of his lungs, and he staggered back a step.

When his gaze swung to his uncle—
his father?
—he realized that Randall wasn't putting on an act; he was genuinely as flabbergasted as Warrick was.

In unison they turned and stared at Birdie with identical expressions of outraged disbelief.

Birdie stared back at them belligerently.

“Why now?” Randall demanded, taking a menacing step toward her. “Why did you wait so long to tell us?
Why?
”

“You mean you've never told Warrick about the time you slept with your brother's wife?” Birdie said mockingly. “You never told him how I came to see you that night, upset because your no-good brother was messing around on me and hanging out with drug dealers instead of getting a job? You mean you never told Warrick how, after you fed Yasmin and rocked her to sleep for me, you started consoling me, and one thing led to another—”

“Damn you!” Randall thundered, his face contorted with fury. “You know damned well I never told Warrick or anyone else about that night. We
both
agreed on that. And it only happened once.”

Birdie smirked. “Once was all it took.” She nodded toward Warrick. “There's your proof.”

Randall gaped at her, looking like he didn't know whether to choke her or burst into hysterical tears. He stared at Warrick for a prolonged moment, then sank weakly into a chair and passed a trembling hand over his face. He looked so devastated that Warrick almost felt sorry for him.

He whirled on his mother, rage twisting his insides. “How could you have kept something like this from me? From
both
of us?”

She divided an incredulous look between him and Randall. “I can't believe the thought never crossed either of your minds. Look at the two of you. You're the spitting image of each other!”

Warrick and Randall glanced warily at each other, silently acknowledging the obvious.

“And as for the man you
thought
was your father,” Birdie snarled at Warrick, “he wasn't worth a damn. When he wasn't strung out on crack, he was out looking for his next piece of ass. God only knows how many of his bastards are running around Houston. My only consolation is that you're the only child I
didn't
have with him!”

Warrick shook his head at her, staggered by her complete lack of remorse. “All this time,” he whispered disbelievingly. “You lied to me. You lied to all of us!”

“What difference does it make?” Birdie cried. “I didn't keep you and Randall apart! The two of you couldn't
be
any closer. God knows you've had a better relationship with Randall than you ever had with that sorry excuse for a man I was married to. You two have
always
had each other.”

“Not always,” Randall said tersely, rising to his feet. “Let's not forget that I didn't enter Warrick's life until he was fourteen.
Fourteen,
Birdie! That's an awfully long time to keep a man away from his own son.”

Birdie met his gaze unflinchingly. “It's not my fault you and your brother stopped speaking to each other. It was your choice to stay out of our lives for so long.
Your
choice, not mine.”

“That's not the point!” Warrick interjected, enraged. “My God, Ma, can't you even acknowledge that you were dead wrong for keeping such a secret from us?
Can't you?
”

Her chin lifted in stubborn defiance. “I did what I thought was best, and I make no apologies for that.”

Warrick's face hardened. “I'll never forgive you for this.”

Birdie's eyes widened, filling with tears. “You don't mean that, baby. You know how much I love you—”

But Warrick was already striding furiously from the room.

“Warrick, wait!” his mother pleaded desperately. “Warrick—”

“Let him go, Birdie,” Randall barked. “Goddamn you, woman! What have you done?”

On his way out of the study Warrick nearly collided with Raina, who'd been hovering near the doorway. Her stricken expression told him she'd heard enough of the conversation to be horrified on his behalf.

“I wasn't eavesdropping,” she hastened to assure him. “One of the vendors wanted me to ask you—”

“Not now, Raina,” Warrick growled.

Without a backward glance he stalked off.

 

Randall found Warrick sitting alone in the darkened home theater, staring broodingly at the blank movie screen.

“Mind if I turn on the lights?” Randall asked quietly.

Warrick said nothing.

Taking his silence as acquiescence, Randall adjusted the recessed lighting, then walked into the room and selected a seat on the first row, right in front of Warrick.

Neither spoke for several moments.

“I didn't know,” Randall said in a low voice.

Warrick remained silent.

“Did you hear me? I said I didn't know.”

“I heard you,” Warrick said curtly.

“If I'd had the slightest inkling that the baby Birdie was carrying was mine—”

“Did you love her?”

Randall seemed startled by the question. After what seemed an eternity, he let out a deep, shuddering breath and nodded resignedly.
“I did. Once upon a time. Before I knew what she was really like.” He paused. “No offense.”

“None taken.”

Randall said nothing.

As the awkward silence stretched between them, Warrick frowned. He didn't know how to deal with this new tension between them. He hoped it wasn't a sign of things to come.

Staring down at his folded hands in his lap, Randall began quietly, “Your mother and I grew up together in the Third Ward. Birdie was beautiful, the girl every fella wanted. But she always went for the dangerous types, like my brother Tariq. She thought I was boring because I wanted to go to college and become a police officer. She used to tease me all the time about how broke I was going to be, working as a lowly cop.” He let out a mirthless chuckle. “Your mother has always liked the finer things in life.”

A ghost of a smile touched Warrick's mouth. “I know.” He had the credit card statements to show for it.

Randall sighed. “I thought she was too good for my brother, but Birdie insisted that they loved each other and could build a life together. She was only seventeen when she got pregnant with your sister. Tariq didn't want to marry her, but Birdie and her mother kept pressuring him until he finally gave in. On the night Yasmin was born, Tariq was nowhere to be found. He was out boozing and getting high with his friends.”

Randall shook his head, the old anger tightening his voice as he continued, “Birdie was devastated. I was livid. I went to Tariq and confronted him, telling him he needed to be a man and handle his responsibilities. We got into a fist fight right there in the parking lot. A couple of his buddies came out to help him. One of them shoved a gun in my face and asked Tariq if he wanted him to blow my brains out. My brother said no, but he warned me that if I ever came near him or his wife again, he'd kill me himself.”

Warrick shifted his gaze from the blank theater screen to the back of his uncle's—father's—head, wondering why he'd never heard this tale before.

“I wasn't afraid of getting shot by my brother,” Randall said grimly. “He was too spineless to pull the trigger, anyway. But I was furious with Birdie for being so blind about Tariq, for allowing
herself to settle for less than she deserved. I couldn't stand by and watch her throw her life away, so I left. I went away to college and only kept in touch with my mother. I knew I never wanted to return to the projects, so two years later when I was home for the summer, I got a full-time job and rented out an apartment in a better part of town. That's where I was living when Birdie came to see me that night, and, well, you know the rest.”

“Indeed,” Warrick murmured sardonically. “So that's how I was conceived. Out of an adulterous one-night stand. Good to know.”

Randall twisted around in the seat to glare at him. “Don't make it sound like that. It wasn't some cheap one-night stand. I really loved your mother, and she needed a shoulder to cry on.”

Warrick snorted. “You gave her a helluva lot more than your shoulder, didn't you?”

Randall's nostrils flared.

The two men stared each other down for a long, challenging moment.

Randall was the first to glance away. “Like I said, I didn't know.”

Warrick clenched and unclenched his jaw, then blew out a ragged breath and glared at the ceiling. “I'm not blaming you,” he said gruffly. “I know it wasn't your fault Ma kept the secret from you. I'm just trying to process everything. And I'm trying to figure out how we're going to make the transition from being uncle and nephew, to father and son.”

“If it makes it any easier,” Randall said very quietly, “I've always considered you the son I never had.”

Warrick's throat constricted.

He thought of all the times he'd wished that Randall were his father. He lamented the fourteen years they'd lost, and reflected on how different his childhood would have been if he'd lived with Randall and had been raised as his son. His mother was definitely right about one thing: Randall had been more like a father to Warrick than Tariq Mayne ever had.

Swallowing a hard knot of emotion, Warrick leaned forward and gently squeezed Randall's shoulder.

Randall caught his hand, held it for a moment before releasing him.

This time when they lapsed into silence, the tension was gone.

Struck by a sudden thought, Warrick muttered, “Wait a minute. If you're my father, that means Lauren is my half sister.”

“That's right.” Randall turned in the seat to face him. “Is that going to be a problem?”

Remembering the way he'd told Lauren off the last time she'd called begging for a favor, Warrick smiled narrowly. “No problem at all.”

Randall hesitated, then ventured carefully, “You didn't mean what you said about not forgiving your mother, did you?”

Warrick's jaw hardened. “I haven't decided.”

“You have every right to be angry with her. What she did was deplorable, and there's no excuse for it. But she loves you, son. She was so upset after you left that I had to carry her upstairs to her room, because she could hardly walk. It would kill her if you stopped speaking to her, War.”

Warrick said nothing. Given everything he'd just learned, he now viewed his relationship with his mother in a whole new light. She'd always treated him differently than his siblings, never bothering to disguise the fact that he
was
her favorite. But now Warrick couldn't help wondering if she loved him more simply because he
wasn't
Tariq's child—or because he was the son of a man she'd fallen in love with.

He searched Randall's face. “You really got over Ma?”

Randall blew out a deep breath, then nodded. “It wasn't easy, but I did.”

Not for the first time, Warrick thought about what Deniece had told him about Raina's childhood crush. If she was right, and Raina
had
loved him at one time, how easy had it been for her to get over him?

As if reading his mind, Randall said quietly, “She's a good woman, son.”

Warrick didn't even have to ask who his father was talking about. He closed his eyes. “I know.”

A moment later he was up and striding toward the door.

“Where are you going?” Randall asked.

“To find Raina. Who else?”

Randall smiled knowingly. “Who else indeed.”

R
aina smiled at Warrick as she took his hand and led him through the doors of Touch of Heaven.

They had arrived in Houston that morning and had spent the rest of the day in bed together, alternately making love and talking for hours. As expected, the topic that had dominated their conversation was the stunning revelation that Randall Mayne was Warrick's father. Raina had listened quietly as Warrick shared his feelings with her, telling her that ultimately, despite the way his mother had deceived him, he felt blessed to have Randall as his father. Raina's heart had melted at the admission. Seeing her tender expression, Warrick had dragged her into his arms and made love to her with a desperate urgency that left her trembling long after it was over.

After working up an appetite, they'd ventured out for dinner before ending up at Touch of Heaven. Since the spa was closed on Sundays, Raina had decided today was a perfect opportunity to give Warrick a tour.

As they moved through the reception area, he asked about the plaques on the wall, and she told him about the outstanding services her spa provided to its clients and to the community. She could tell,
by the way Warrick's expression softened, that he was both impressed and proud of her.

She took him through the sauna and the different treatment rooms, explaining the function of each, smiling as he sniffed appreciatively at fragrant candles and massage oils.

When they had completed the tour, she turned to him with a bright smile. “Well, what do you think?”

“I think,” Warrick said in a voice like sin, “that you have a very nice spa. And I think I'd like to receive one of those incredible massages you were describing.”

Raina chuckled, even as her knees went weak. “I'd be more than happy to make you an appointment with one of my skilled massage therapists.”

“But I'm here now,” Warrick countered silkily. “No time like the present.”

“But I'm not licensed.”

“I'll take my chances.”

So she capitulated, unable to resist him.

She turned on the soft, tranquil music and prepared the treatment room the way she'd been shown by her staff. And when Warrick returned from the changing room with a towel draped loosely around his waist, she gulped hard and averted her gaze, her voice husky as she instructed him to lie down on the table.

She poured massage oil into her palms and rubbed them together for warmth. The soothing scent filled the air as she lowered her hands to the mahogany expanse of wide shoulders and taut sinew. The moment she touched Warrick, her breath caught and her breasts tingled.

He let out a low, satisfied moan that curled between her legs like the sinuous flames from the candles lit around the room.

Recalling what she'd been taught, Raina moved her hands over him with sure, gentle motions, finding and kneading the pressure points until he melted beneath her touch. She massaged the corded muscles of his back, his firm buttocks, his long, powerful legs. She even massaged his feet until he groaned with pleasure.

Although they'd spent the day in bed together, exploring and pleasuring each other's bodies, Raina was as aroused as if she were seeing him for the very first time. His body was a revelation. The
silky heat of his skin electrified her fingertips, and his deep, purring moans made her loins ache.

He turned over suddenly, the towel falling away to reveal the jutting length of his erection. “I need you,” he said, his voice so low and husky the words were almost a growl.

Raina swallowed.

In the far recesses of her mind she remembered that this was her place of business, and as such it was inappropriate to do what they were about to do. But she didn't care. She wanted him, and she could no more deny him than she could deny her lungs of air.

Warrick watched her, his hooded eyes smoldering with desire as she slowly undressed, then stood naked before him. Emboldened by his hungry gaze, she poured massage oil into her hands and deliberately, sensually, smoothed it all over her body.

Warrick nearly came off the table, but she pushed him back down, her lips curving in a naughty little smile. His nostrils flared and his heart thudded against her palm as she rubbed oil all over his chest. His skin was so hot the liquid practically melted on contact.

She only got as far as his abdomen before he reached for her, his feral expression warning her that he would not wait any longer. She climbed onto the table, so eager for him she forgot to remove her high heels.

Her legs bracketed his hips as she straddled him. Leaning over him, she lavished his throat and chest with hot nips and licks while he cupped her aching breasts and sucked her erect nipples.

She skated her open mouth down the rigid length of his body before taking his engorged penis deep inside her mouth. Warrick groaned, closing his eyes as he began thrusting upward. She stroked him with her hand, laved and suckled him with her lips and tongue.

When he was on the brink of release, Raina pulled back and lifted her body over his. The heat of his shaft against her throbbing sex was unbearably arousing. She rubbed her clitoris against him, the erotic friction making them both shudder.

Their gazes locked as she took him in her hand and guided him into her body. Her breath hissed out of her as she slowly sank down on him. He was impossibly hard, so thick and swollen that he stretched her painfully, and she had to lean back on his thighs to take him deeper.

He began moving inside her with slow, fluid strokes, his fingers tweaking her clitoris like the keys of a piano. It was maddeningly arousing. As she met his deep thrusts, she could already feel the pressure of an orgasm building in her stomach and thighs. She wondered if she would ever get enough of making love to this man.

Soon the slow, seductive rhythm changed. As their movements grew frenzied, they breathed in harsh, rapid pants. Warrick grabbed Raina's butt and thrust harder and faster, bucking so violently beneath her she thought she'd fall off the table. She leaned forward and clamped her thighs around his waist, her inner muscles squeezing his penis in a viselike grip. Perspiration mingled with the oil that already slicked their skin.

Raina drew her knees up, her spiky heels digging into the table, her thighs spread wide as she rode the thick length of him. Warrick swore hoarsely, his eyes blazing with arousal at the savagely erotic position.

“Raina,” he rasped over and over again. “Raina…”

As she gazed down into his face, Raina realized she had never felt closer, more connected to anyone than she did to Warrick. And it wasn't just the physical joining of their bodies that made her feel this way. She loved him, loved him with a ferocity that had not abated over the years. Whatever tomorrow might bring, she would always love him.

Tightening her thighs around his waist, she leaned down and seized his lips, pouring years of pent-up longing into the kiss. He returned it with equal fervor, whispering endearments so tender that tears rushed to her eyes.

Moments later they erupted in a shattering orgasm that sent waves of ecstasy crashing through Raina's womb. Warrick shouted her name, his voice raw and achingly reverent.

As her body convulsed Raina threw back her head, her throat vibrating with her secret confession and silent entreaty.

I love you. Please don't hurt me again.

 

Two days later, Raina realized she'd tempted fate by praying for such a thing.

The moment she arrived at the spa on Tuesday morning and saw a group of her employees gathered around the reception desk, she felt a sinking sense of déjà vu. Wasn't this the same scene she'd stumbled upon just a week ago?

“Our favorite reporter has struck again,” Trey said disgustedly as he passed Raina a copy of the
Ledger.
When her gaze landed on the salacious headline, her heart lurched sickeningly, and the ground tilted beneath her feet.

Spa Owner Offers Sex In Lieu Of Sale

Raina made a strangled sound of disbelief.

“It gets worse,” Trey fumed. “We've already had several cancellations this morning. One client bluntly admitted that she didn't want to be here if the police decided to raid the spa.”

“And speaking of the authorities,” Nikki added grimly, “the article suggested that the FBI intends to investigate allegations of prostitution at the spa.”

“Prostitution!” Raina cried.

Trey scowled. “Read it yourself. It's all there in black and white.”

With the newspaper gripped tightly in her hands, Raina sank weakly into the nearest chair in the reception area. To her horror, the article accused her of trading sexual favors with Warrick in order to retain her business. Citing unnamed sources, Deniece Labelle detailed Raina's affair with Warrick as a “lurid seduction” that began with a weekend tryst at his New Jersey estate, followed by a happy-ending massage at her spa. The article even went so far as to suggest that this was not the first time Raina, or her employees, had used sex to curry favor with county officials and local politicians.

By the time Raina finished reading the slanderous article, her blood was boiling with rage. Her employees stared at her as she lunged from the chair, keys in hand, and stormed out of the spa with one destination in mind.

Twenty minutes later, she marched past Warrick's shocked, protesting secretary and strode through the open doorway of his office. He was seated behind his desk and had just hung up the phone when Raina entered the room. He glanced up in surprise.

Behind Raina, his secretary sputtered indignantly, “Miss, you can't—”

Raina slammed the door on the woman's startled face and charged Warrick's desk, wishing she had something heavier than a folded newspaper to bludgeon him with.

He rose from his chair, frowning. “Raina—”

“Have you seen today's
Ledger?
” she demanded furiously.

“No, I've been in meetings all morning. What—”

She hurled the newspaper at him, and he caught it as it hit him squarely in the chest. “How could you do this to me?” she raged. “I trusted you!”

His frown deepened. “What are you talking about?”

“Like you don't know!”

Warrick glanced down at the paper. When he saw the headline, he stiffened visibly. Looking up at Raina, he said, “I didn't know anything about this.”

“Liar!” Raina snarled. “I know damned well you put Deniece up to this. Just like the last time!”

“I didn't put her up to anything—this time or before.”

“Do you really expect me to believe that?”

“Yes!”

“Then you must think I'm the world's biggest fool. And maybe I am. I trusted you, but I should have known better.”

“Raina—”

“If you didn't know about the article, then please explain to me how Deniece found out about Sunday night. There were only two of us at the spa that night, Warrick, and
I
sure as hell didn't tell her!”

“Neither did I!”

“I don't believe you!”

Warrick stared at her incredulously. “How can you think I'd have anything to do with this?” he demanded, holding up the newspaper.

“Because you're a heartless, despicable ass!” Raina roared, trembling with fury. “And because you're willing to do anything to force me out of business. Why? Because you want to get back at me for what happened to Yolanda.”

“That's not true!”

“Yes, it is. Ever since you came back home you've been doing your level best to turn the entire town against me.” She sneered. “Well, congratulations. Mission accomplished. I hope you're satisfied.”

“Damn it, Raina!” Warrick flung aside the newspaper as if it were covered in manure and rounded the desk. As he came toward her she backed away, throwing up her hands to ward him off.

He kept coming, reaching out for her. She evaded his grasp and spun toward the door, intending to leave before she did something foolish, like burst into tears.

But before she could escape he grabbed her, hauling her roughly against him. “I didn't tell Deniece anything about us,” he whispered fiercely into her hair. “I don't know where she got her information—”

“Stop lying to me!” Raina cried, twisting out of his arms and stepping backward. She glared thunderously at him, her chest heaving with the effort to control her tattered breathing.

Warrick clenched his jaw. “Raina—”

“God, I'm such a fool! I played right into your hands when I agreed to your little ‘courtship' proposal. Reese kept trying to warn me that you were up to no good, but I didn't listen.”

His face hardened. “Your sister doesn't know a damned thing about me.”

“Oh, yes, she does. She told me you were going to hurt me, and she was right.”

He reached for her again.
“Raina—”

“Don't touch me!” she shouted, jerking out of his grasp and stalking across the room, needing to put as much distance as possible between them. She was shaking so badly she thought she'd go into convulsions at any moment. The pain of his betrayal was staggering.