Touch of Heaven (12 page)

Raina swallowed hard, the painful memories rushing to the surface of her mind. During their senior year in high school, Yolanda and her boyfriend Tate had held up a convenience store and accidentally shot the clerk, leaving the man permanently paralyzed. Evidence collected at the crime scene had led the police to Yolanda and Tate within days. Although both had claimed their innocence, they were arrested and charged with the crime. While Tate had priors, which all but ensured his conviction, Yolanda had never been in trouble with the law before. During her trial, the prosecution had portrayed her as an impressionable young woman who'd succumbed to the pressure of trying to please her boyfriend. But the state's case against her had hinged on Raina's testimony.

As far as Yolanda was concerned, Raina, as her best friend, was supposed to uphold the story Yolanda had concocted. Raina was supposed to be her alibi.

But Yolanda
hadn't
attended the senior-class party with Raina, and Raina's conscience wouldn't allow her to perpetuate her best friend's lie, especially since an innocent man had nearly died. Once Yolanda realized that Raina intended to tell the truth, she'd told her family that Raina was lying because she was jealous of Yolanda's relationship with Tate. And they'd believed her.

When no other students from the party came forward to corroborate or refute Yolanda's story, it came down to Raina's word against her best friend's. The jury had decided that Raina—a straight-A student whose father was a pillar of the community—was more credible.

Damn it. She didn't want to think about this, not now. Not ever. She'd spent the last twelve years trying to outrun the past, trying to make herself forget. But ever since Warrick's return, she'd been repeatedly forced to go back to that dark, devastating period in her life.

“When you were testifying that day in court,” Reese continued quietly, “it wasn't Yolanda you were looking at. It was Warrick. And when you whispered
I'm sorry,
I must have been the only one in that courtroom who knew you were apologizing to Warrick, not his sister.”

Raina fell silent. Even if she'd wanted to speak, the constriction in her throat made it difficult.

“I don't want to see you hurt again,” Reese said gently. “Warrick Mayne can hurt you in a way no one else can.”

Raina's chest tightened. With a supreme effort, she raised her chin and plastered a brave smile on her face. “You don't have to worry about me, Reese. I let my hormones get the best of me today, but believe me, it won't happen again. I'm not in love with Warrick anymore. I'm over him. Really.”

Reese gave her sister a long, measuring look, letting the words hang in the air between them, as thick and palpable as the scent of the casserole wafting from the oven.

After another moment Reese sighed and shook her head mournfully. “Poor Bradford.”

Raina's smile faltered. “What do you mean?”

“Well, just when I thought I'd finally found the perfect guy for you, someone who could compete with the legend of Warrick, this—” Reese gestured in the direction of Raina's backside, “had to happen.
He
had to come back.”

Raina choked out a laugh. “What happened between me and Warrick has no bearing on what may—or may not—happen between me and Bradford.”

“No? Then how do you explain the fact that you haven't returned any of Bradford's calls today? He told me you guys had a great time at dinner last night, and he was hoping to set up another date with you, but you haven't called him back yet.”

“I haven't had a chance,” Raina said defensively. “In case you've forgotten, I have a business to run. I get a little swamped. I should think a busy pediatrician like Bradford would understand that.”

Reese arched a brow. “Being swamped didn't stop you from leaving early to go check out Randall Mayne's toy collection. And it sure as hell didn't stop you from having your little afternoon tryst with Warrick.”

Raina opened her mouth to protest, then snapped it shut. What could she say? Her sister was right, and she knew it. They
both
knew it.

Reese sighed. “Look, I know you work hard seven days a week,” she said in a conciliatory tone. “You're more than entitled to cut out early anytime you want. I guess I'm just saying that if you don't like Bradford, just say so. You don't have to make excuses.”

“I do like Bradford,” Raina insisted. “He's a really nice guy, and we
did
have a great time last night.”

Reese eyed her warily. “But?”

“Well…” Raina hedged, trying to think of a diplomatic way to phrase her objection to Bradford Torrance. The longer she stalled, the more impatient Reese became.

“Oh, for God's sake, Raina,” she finally snapped. “Just say it.”

“He's a cheapskate!” Raina blurted.

“What?”

Raina groaned. “I didn't want to tell you, Reesey, but I guess it bothered me more than I realized. Bradford didn't want to pay for dinner. Or, rather, he only wanted to pay for his half.”

“You mean you went…
dutch?
” Reese sounded so scandalized that Raina burst out laughing.

Her sister was not amused. “Girl, please tell me you're joking.”

Raina shook her head, gasping for breath. “I thought it was just me!”

“Definitely not.”

Wiping tears of mirth from her eyes, Raina said, “Don't get me wrong. You know I'm as independent as the next woman. I understand that this is the twenty-first century, and I definitely make enough money to pay for my own dinner. But it's the principle of the thing. I mean, going dutch is something that should be discussed and agreed upon beforehand. I don't think a man should ever just assume that his companion is okay with it.
Not
on the first date, and certainly
not
when that man is a doctor!”

“I know that's right,” Reese muttered, still visibly appalled. “I don't know what the hell Bradford was thinking.”

Raina chuckled. “I honestly believe he didn't see anything wrong with it.” She paused, mouth twitching. “He also didn't want to pay for valet parking, which would've been fine if it hadn't taken him nearly thirty minutes to get out of the damned parking garage.”

“Oh, God.” Reese shuddered, shaking her head in disbelief. “I'm gonna have to have a little talk with him.”

“Please don't,” Raina said vigorously. “I don't want him to be embarrassed. Really. He's a terrific guy, Reese, just like you always told me. It's not his fault that his, er, frugality, put a slight damper on our evening.”

Reese looked hopeful. “So does that mean you'd go out with him again?”

Raina hesitated, then answered truthfully, “I'd consider it. Like I said, we had a great time, for the most part.”

“Wonderful!”

“Why?” Suddenly Raina was suspicious. “Wait a minute. I just realized something. It's almost seven. Why isn't dinner ready yet? We always eat promptly at six-thirty so you can be in bed by nine. And, hey, did you wear that dress to the hosp…” Trailing off, her eyes narrowed on her sister's face. “What's going on, Reese?”

Reese assiduously avoided her gaze as she carried the salad to the refrigerator. “There's been a change of plans. We're eating at seven-thirty tonight. And, uh, we're having company.”

“Who?”

“Since he couldn't get in touch with you today, I sort of took the liberty of inviting Bradford to join us for dinner.”

“You did what!”

“Before you say anything else,” her sister hastened to add, “I also invited someone else from the hospital. I didn't want him to think I was asking him out on a date, so I made it seem like more of a casual get-together with friends. You and Bradford are the buffers.”

As comprehension dawned, Raina's eyes widened. “Oh my God. You invited
Dr. Carracci?
”

“Yep.” Reese grinned mischievously. “Remember what I told you about the nurse's husband proposing to her after she made him gnocchi
di
ricotta?” At Raina's nod, Reese said, “Well, I'm not looking for a marriage proposal—been there, done that. But if all goes according to plan, before this day is over, you won't be the only one who had a little bumping and grinding action!”

Speechless, Raina gaped at her older sister. A moment later they both burst into laughter.

They were still giggling hysterically when the doorbell rang.

They froze, staring at each other.

“They're early!” Reese cried, stricken. “I haven't set the table or put the garlic bread in the oven yet.”

As the two women erupted into a flurry of activity, Reese looked over at Raina and gasped. “Oh, no! Your jeans!”

Damn. Raina had nearly forgotten about Warrick's handprints. Greeting Bradford with another man's prints all over her rear end probably wasn't the best way to start a possible relationship.

Reese said, “Quick! Run upstairs and find something in my closet to put on.”

Raina was halfway up the staircase when her sister, walking to the front door, said, “Oh, and Raina?”

Raina glanced over her shoulder.

Reese's lips were twitching with wry humor. “The next time you're going to see Warrick, do yourself a favor.
Don't wear white!
”

B
right and early the next morning, Raina headed to the spa intending to make a dent in the mounting pile of paperwork on her desk. She had payroll to do, contracts and invoices to review, and a proposal to prepare for a client who wanted to host her bridal shower at the spa next month. She also needed to work on a marketing plan for an upcoming business venture she was excited about. While Raina currently enjoyed partnerships with several top-tier bath and beauty product lines, one of her future goals was to launch her own line of all-natural spa merchandise. To that end, she had recently assembled a product development and market research team that included several clinicians and alternative health practitioners she'd frequently consulted since opening Touch of Heaven. She hoped to have the first draft of the marketing plan completed by the end of summer.

As she drove to the spa that morning, Raina looked forward to immersing herself in work. She was happiest when she was tending to the needs of her business and interacting with customers. And now, more than ever, she needed to occupy her mind with something other than thoughts of Warrick and painful memories from the past.

But the moment she entered the building, she was brought up
short by the sight of two of her massage therapists and the receptionist huddled around the front desk talking. That alone didn't bother Raina. The spa wouldn't open for another hour, and she was used to seeing her staff congregated around the reception desk drinking coffee and gossiping about everything from their weekend plans to the latest celebrity scandals. But judging by the hushed, agitated tone of their voices that morning, what they were discussing had nothing to do with visiting a new nightclub or speculating about which actor had jilted his wife for another woman.

When Raina heard her own name, she felt a whisper of foreboding. Juggling her purse, briefcase and a large box of glazed doughnuts, she stepped farther into the lobby and called out, “Good morning, everyone.”

Three pairs of eyes swung in her direction. Instead of the cheerful chorus of “Good morning, boss!” that usually greeted her—especially when she was bearing goodies—Raina encountered three tense, grim expressions.

Uh-oh.

“What's going on, guys?” she asked warily as she approached the desk.

Trey Sutton, a feisty, attractive, brown-skinned man in his late twenties who was the only male employed at the spa, spoke up first. “Have you read the
Ledger
this morning?” he demanded.

Raina frowned, thinking,
That tabloid rag that tries to pass itself off as a newspaper? The publication that thrives on sensationalism and takes the meaning of yellow journalism to a disgusting new level? The paper that employs the likes of Deniece Labelle?

She refrained from saying those things, answering neutrally, “I don't read the
Houston Ledger.
I prefer the
Chronicle.
”

Trey snorted, trading glances with the others. “Well, after today you definitely won't ever read the
Ledger
again.”

Raina frowned, the sense of foreboding tightening in her stomach. “Why?”

“There's an article about the spa in today's issue,” said Alisa Alvarez, a stocky, middle-aged Hispanic woman.

“And it's
not
very flattering.” Hand planted on his narrow hip, Trey glared accusingly at Raina. “Honey, why didn't you tell us you'd been approached about selling the business? Don't you think
that's something we should have heard from
you
instead of some sleazy reporter?”

Raina grimaced as she set the bakery box on the reception desk and opened it, gratified when Nikki and Alisa each snagged a glazed doughnut.

“I'm sorry about that,” Raina said contritely. “I was going to tell you guys at our staff meeting on Friday. I wanted to let everyone know at the same time and answer any questions you might have. I'm sorry you had to find out this way. But let me just assure you up front that I have no intention whatsoever of selling the spa.”

Trey grumbled, “Well, that's pretty much what the article says. But it's
how
it was said that pissed us off.” Snapping open the newspaper, he began reading aloud.

By the time Trey had finished reading, Raina was seething with fury. “Let me see that,” she snapped, snatching the newspaper out of Trey's hand.

She skimmed the page, searching for the article's byline. When her gaze landed on Deniece Labelle's name, another surge of rage swept through her. She should have known Warrick would sic his
old girlfriend on her, shamelessly using her to do his dirty work. And no doubt Deniece, who had always hated Raina, had been only too willing to do Warrick's bidding. Raina could just imagine the two of them lying in bed together, plotting ways to humiliate her and force her out of business. Warrick had probably been laughing at Raina the entire time he was kissing her yesterday.

“Asshole,”
she hissed under her breath, her jaw clenched so hard her back teeth hurt. She felt like such a fool!

“Not only does that article make you sound selfish and insensitive, Raina,” Trey complained bitterly, “but it makes the spa sound like some bootleg operation that serves no purpose in the community. I've got news for Miss Thang Reporter. We've done
a lot
of good things in this community!” He ticked them off on his long, elegant fingers. “We've provided complimentary massages and facials to women from local homeless shelters, we've offered free health screenings and wellness workshops, we've given free maternity massages to the pregnant wives of soldiers fighting in Iraq, we
always
donate our spa products—which ain't cheap!—and we participate in community fundraisers and charity events all the time. Not to mention that our prices are very reasonable, even though each and every one of us is talented enough to command much higher rates. There's a reason we're often booked three weeks in advance—because we're damned good! Furthermore,” he fumed, pointing angrily at the wall behind the reception desk, where several plaques and certificates were displayed, “we sure as hell didn't get all those awards and accolades for being ‘obscure' or mediocre!”

When he had finished speaking, Nikki and Alisa cheered and clapped loudly in approval. Even Raina smiled a little, her own temper cooling slightly in the face of such fierce loyalty.

“Thank you, Trey,” she murmured. “I can't tell you enough how much I appreciate your support. That goes for all of you.”

Trey impatiently waved off the gratitude. “Honey, you don't have to thank us! You've got a good thing going here, and I'll be damned if I let some no-talent hack who can't even cut it at a real newspaper try to run you out of business. Deniece Labelle didn't even
try
to appear objective in that one-sided piece of trash she called an article. After devoting several paragraphs to how
wonderful
Mayne
Industries is, how
wonderful
Warrick Mayne is and how
wonderful
the company will be for Houston, she couldn't find
one
good thing to say about Touch of Heaven. Talk about media bias!” He shook his head in patent disgust.

Scanning the lengthy article, Raina said grimly, “You won't get any argument from me about Deniece Labelle's appalling lack of journalistic integrity, but I'm afraid she may be right about one thing. The economy is still in a slump, unfortunately, and not every business in this area has been doing as well as we have. I've already gotten an earful from Tyler Ralston, one of the owners of Ralston Development. I know there are plenty of people like him who will want to see Mayne Industries relocate its headquarters to this area. Thanks to this article, I'm probably going to start coming under a lot of pressure to sell.”

“It's already starting,” Nikki said, looking apologetic. “When I came in this morning, there were already two voice-mail messages from people who had read the article and wanted to urge you to reconsider your decision not to sell. And, um, that was me paraphrasing. They weren't as polite as that.”

Raina scowled. “Great,” she muttered under her breath. Just what she needed: more threats. First from Warrick, then Tyler Ralston, and now perfect strangers were calling to harass her.

“They can't pressure you into selling!” Trey cried, outraged. “We have to do something about this.” He snapped his fingers. “I know! Maybe we can get someone at the
Chronicle
to write some sort of rebuttal to this story. An article that gives
your
perspective, Raina, and lets people know how much the spa has done for the community. Don't you have contacts at the
Chronicle?
”

“Several,” Raina said wryly. “But given the local media's ongoing love affair with Warrick Mayne, I'd probably be hard pressed to find any editor willing to print a negative word about him, even if they're a little peeved with him for letting another paper break the story about his company's expansion plans.”

Trey sucked his teeth. “
They're
peeved with him? I'm livid! I always thought so highly of that brother. Hell, I defended him when some of my friends from L.A. were saying he did that little actress wrong. What was her name again?”

“Simone Persia Fox?” Nikki helpfully supplied.

“Yeah, her! They were saying how Warrick Mayne strung her along, had her ready to give up her acting career and move all the way to Philadelphia just to be with him. He made her think he was ready to settle down with her. And then he changed his mind, broke that child's heart and had her head all messed up. You see she ain't been in any movies ever since the breakup, and that was two years ago!”

Nikki snickered. “The reason she ain't doing any more movies is 'cause that chick can't act!”

Alisa chortled, nodding in agreement.

Trey made a face. “Maybe so, but I still defended that brother when my friends were badmouthing him, saying how he played poor Simone.”

“You defended him because you think he's hot,” Alisa reminded him.

Trey scowled at her. “Well, I don't care how hot he is, or how much money he has. He can't just show up out of the blue one day and expect people to hand over their properties to him, no questions asked. It doesn't work that way! Ain't that right, boss?”

“Hmm?” Raina had only been half listening to the spirited exchange between her employees. She'd heard all the sordid stories about Warrick's high-profile breakups over the years. She'd stopped caring a long time ago.

Or so she told herself.

“We need to get support from the community,” she murmured, thinking aloud, steering the conversation back on track. “It's safe to assume Warrick's already got the media in his corner. Maybe we can get the support of some community leaders and activists who are known for championing the cause of small businesses.”

“That's a great idea!” Trey, Nikki and Alisa chorused in unison.

Raina chuckled. “Then it's unanimous. That's what we'll do.”

“Do you have anyone in mind?” Trey asked hopefully, relishing the idea of a fight.

Raina pursed her lips, then nodded briskly. “Actually, I do. City Councilman Bonner. He's an old friend of the family. He always told me to give him a call if I ever need any favors.”

Trey grinned. “Well, honey, you'd better get on that phone and start calling in those favors!”

“Better yet,” Raina said decisively, “I'll pay him a visit.”

 

When Raina arrived at Dwight Bonner's plush downtown law firm an hour later, his secretary informed her that the councilman was in his office with a visitor.

“I'll wait,” Raina told the woman.

She sat in one of the visitor chairs, crossed her legs and grabbed a magazine to flip through while she waited.

After fifteen minutes a door opened, and the rumble of male laughter spilled into the corridor.