Touch of Heaven (21 page)

Raina's grin widened. “No, he didn't seem to mind at all. Anyway,” she continued when Warrick's black brows furrowed together, “once I got over my self-consciousness, I really began to enjoy salsa dancing. It's fun, energizing and very liberating.”

“Liberating, huh?”

Raina nodded quickly, warming to her subject. “Whenever I go salsa dancing, I really lose myself in the music and the movements. All my worries melt away, and I find myself becoming…”

“Uninhibited?” Warrick supplied.

“Yes! That's a perfect word. I feel totally uninhibited. Don't laugh, but it's like the music reaches inside my heart and grabs hold of my hips, and I just go wherever the rhythm takes me. It's amazing. Mesmerizing. I feel powerful and sensual and—” she broke off abruptly, her face flushing as she realized, too late, that she'd just revealed rather intimate details about herself.

Stifling an embarrassed laugh, she reached for her glass and took a hasty gulp of merlot.

Warrick remained silent, staring at her with an expression she didn't know how to interpret. He probably thought she was crazy, getting all worked up over something as simple as salsa dancing.

Suddenly eager to change the subject, Raina said, “I also enjoy reading biographies. I always find them fascinating, just to know where people came from, what they had to overcome to achieve their success.” She smiled whimsically. “Maybe one of these days I'll be reading
your
biography.”

Warrick smiled faintly. “And maybe I'll read yours.”

Raina laughed. “You never know!”

He drank his wine, watching her with a quiet, focused intensity that made her feel a little breathless. “What else do you enjoy, Raina?”

She ate a bite of shrimp and chewed thoughtfully. “I like to unwind at home with a good movie or a good book—usually a mystery or a historical romance.”

Warrick smiled a little. “Are you a hopeless romantic, Raina?”

She chuckled wryly. “Guilty as charged,” she admitted, thinking of the paperback novels she'd snuck out of her mother's closet and eagerly devoured as a young girl. Those damned romance novels had fueled more than enough tortured fantasies about Warrick to last her a lifetime.

“I'm afraid I don't have any romances in the library,” he said smilingly, “but I'd be more than happy to add some to my reading collection so you'd feel right at home the next time you're here.”

Raina's lips parted in surprise. She was so startled—and ridiculously touched—by the unlikely offer that she didn't bother to remind Warrick that this would be her first and only visit to the mansion. But as she gazed at him, an unnamed emotion flickered across his face, and he ducked his head over his plate and became absorbed in his meal.

They ate for a few minutes in silence.

After casting about for something else to add to her list of favorite pastimes, Raina said brightly, “I also like to attend plays and concerts. I really enjoy the Jazz in the Park series during the summers. Sometimes I like to go there by myself, spread out a blanket and just soak up the mellow music.”

Warrick raised an amused brow. “Do you break out into dance?”

She laughed, nearly choking on a mouthful of wine. “Of course not. And don't you dare make fun of me just because I told you all that stuff about the salsa dancing.”

“Oh, believe me, Raina,” Warrick said in that dark, intoxicating voice that made her think of hot flesh and silk sheets again, “ridiculing you is the
last
thing on my mind when I imagine you salsa dancing.”

Raina's belly quivered. She tore her gaze from his and stared into the ruby contents of her glass, willing her racing pulse to return to normal, even as she realized that there was no such thing as a normal pulse whenever Warrick was around.

“So what about the doctor?” he murmured.

Her eyes snapped to his face. “Who?”

Warrick chuckled, low and soft. “You've forgotten him already?”

“Of course not,” Raina retorted. “I'm just used to referring to people by their
name
, not their profession. I wouldn't, for example, refer to you as the engineer or the CEO, nor would I expect to be referred to as—” she broke off at the glittering amusement in Warrick's eyes. “Oh, for heaven's sake. You know what I'm trying to say. He has a name. It's not ‘the doctor,' or ‘that chump,' or ‘Loverboy,' or anything else you choose to call him. It's Bradford. Repeat after me.
Brad-ford,
” she enunciated as if she were instructing a child or someone who spoke a foreign language.

“Bradford,” Warrick repeated dutifully, his eyes still twinkling with humor and mischief.

“Very good. Anyway…” Raina trailed off, frowning. “What was the question again?”

Warrick burst out laughing.

Raina bit the inside of her cheek to keep from joining him.

As his mirth subsided, Warrick idly traced the rim of his glass with a finger, gazing at her. “What I was going to ask is whether the doctor—I'm sorry,
Bradford
—shares a lot of your interests.”

“Of course,” Raina said quickly. Too quickly.

At Warrick's arched brow, she said more smoothly and convincingly, “He's a great guy. I wouldn't be seeing him if we didn't have a lot in common.”

“Of course,” Warrick murmured. He stared into his glass, deep in thought for a moment.

Raina was about to change the subject when he said softly and reflectively, “You and your sister are so close. Any man you eventually decide to marry is going to need Reese's stamp of approval just as much as your father's.”

Raina chuckled. “That's definitely true. It's funny, because she's always trying to fix me up with different guys, even though
she
ends up dismissing all of them for one reason or another, saying they're not good enough for me.” She sighed, then added without thinking, “At least she likes Bradford.”

“Well, there you go,” Warrick drawled. “Now all you have to do is introduce him to your father, and it won't be long before you're sending out invitations.” He downed the rest of his drink, then reached for the bottle to refill his glass.

Raina watched him, wondering about the strange tension suddenly vibrating around him.

“More wine?” he offered, lifting the bottle.

She shook her head quickly. “I've probably had more than I should have. That's an excellent merlot. From your wine cellar, right?”

Warrick nodded. “Imported from one of the best vineyards in Tuscany. Have some more. I insist.”

“All right,” Raina acquiesced, because it
was
an amazing merlot. “But just half a glass, please. I think we both remember what happened the
last
time I had too much to drink.”

“Ah, yes,” Warrick murmured, mouth twitching as he poured more wine into her glass. “We certainly wouldn't want you to spend all night praying to the porcelain god.”

Raina stuck out her tongue at him, and he laughed.

As Raina ate the last of her meal, she glanced up to find Warrick gazing at her with a look of mild fascination.

“What?” she asked self-consciously.

“You finished all of your food.” He sounded surprised.

Raina chuckled. “I don't know why you didn't think I would. I told you I was hungry, and the meal was delicious. Besides, need I remind you that, even as a little girl, I had no problem demolishing your uncle's steaks at cookouts?”

Warrick grinned. “I remember. And he always gave you the biggest ones, too.”

“I know.” She sighed affectionately. “I adore that man.”

Warrick rolled his eyes. “The feeling's mutual,” he grumbled, and Raina laughed.

A
fter lingering over dessert—a decadent double-chocolate tart that was second to none—Raina and Warrick emerged from the dining room, smiling companionably at each other. Although Raina was beginning to feel the effects of the wine, she wasn't quite ready to retire for the night.

Or, rather, she wasn't ready to part company with Warrick.

Foolish girl,
her conscience admonished.
When will you stop being a glutton for punishment?

Shoving the thought aside, Raina asked Warrick, “What time are we heading out to your office in the morning?”

“Nine o'clock,” he answered. “That should give us enough time to avoid rush-hour traffic.”

As they walked, their footfalls sounded against the polished parquet floor and bounded up to the vaulted ceiling. Gazing around, Raina shook her head and muttered under her breath, “This isn't a mansion. It's a freakin'
castle.
”

Warrick chuckled.

“Seriously. An entire NBA basketball team could hole up here and you'd never even know it.”

“Nah,” Warrick drawled. “Believe it or not, I know this house like the back of my hand.”

Raina shot him a disbelieving look. “You couldn't possibly.”

He quirked a challenging brow at her. “Wanna bet?”

She laughed. “Warrick, if I hid anywhere in this house, it would take you a month to find me.”

“Ten minutes.”

“What?”

“It would take me ten minutes to find you. Probably less, because you wouldn't know where to hide.”

“Ten minutes?”
Raina scoffed. “No way!”

Warrick stopped midstride and turned to her, his eyes glinting with sudden mischief. “I'll prove it to you. Go ahead and hide somewhere, and I'll find you. If it takes me more than ten minutes, you can come out of your hiding place and gloat all you want. Go on. I'll close my eyes and count to one hundred while you hide.”

Raina snorted out a laugh. “I'm not going to play hide-and-seek with you, Warrick! How old do you think—”

He closed his eyes. “One, two—”

With a muffled squeal Raina took off, racing down an endless stretch of corridor.

Warrick was right, of course. She didn't know where to hide; she barely knew where she was going, though Mr. Gibbons had graciously given her the grand tour before dinner. Raina had been so overwhelmed by the lavish furnishings and the vastness of the mansion that she'd hardly registered the layout, let alone potential hiding spots.

She passed the framed entryway to the living room and kept running, thinking that might be one of the first places Warrick would look for her. For that same reason she bypassed the library and family room. She knew a house like this had to have all sorts of hidden passageways and secret doors, but, unfortunately, she didn't have time to search for them.

From far behind her she thought she heard Warrick reach fifty. Stifling a breathless giggle, Raina paused and leaned against a wall, quickly tugging off her strappy sandals and mentally kicking herself for not having the foresight to remove them earlier. As she took off again in her bare feet, adrenaline sang through her veins, making her
feel more exhilarated than she'd felt in years. Who knew that playing a simple childhood game with Warrick could be so thrilling?

Rounding a corner, she came to the music room and rushed through the arched doorway. She swept a hurried glance around, taking in the gleaming mahogany curves of a Steinway that dominated one corner of the room. On the opposite side was an assortment of antique instruments mounted in glass, none of which she could take cover behind.

Making a quick decision, Raina shoved her feet back into her sandals, then dashed around the grand piano and hid behind the heavy brocade drapes that adorned the tall French windows.

From somewhere down the corridor Warrick's strong, resonant voice drifted toward her, a soft taunt. “Ready or not, here I come.”

Raina flattened her body against the wall, trying to make herself as invisible as possible. When she glanced down at her feet to check if they were showing, she was relieved to see that the curtain hung all the way to the floor.

After what seemed an eternity, she heard the soft tread of approaching footsteps. Her pulse quickened as Warrick paused in the doorway. She imagined his eyes scanning the room, his head cocked at an angle as he strained to listen for the slightest noise that would betray her position.

Raina squeezed her eyes tightly shut, as if by doing so she could somehow make herself disappear.

After several nerve-racking moments, Warrick called out conversationally, “Maybe you're right, Raina. Maybe this house
is
too big for me to find you.”

Her breathing grew shallow. Her heart was racing so fast she felt light-headed, giddy with excitement and tension.

Warrick stepped into the room.

As he started toward the piano, Raina's heart hammered so violently against her rib cage she half wondered if he could hear it. She didn't move a muscle.

Warrick came to a stop at the piano. As Raina waited breathlessly, he plucked out a few idle notes that gave her pause. As she listened, the soft notes soon evolved into the smooth, beautifully harmonious chords of a classical sonata.

Her brows shot up. When had Warrick learned to play like that?

Her very next thought was,
What
can't
those talented fingers do?

Before her imagination had a chance to wander, the music changed, the haunting concerto spilling into another song that struck Raina as vaguely familiar.

And then in a deep, smoky voice, Warrick crooned, “Just lookin' out of the window—”

Raina clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle the hysterical giggle that bubbled up in her throat, but it burst forth anyway.

Abruptly the music stopped.

Raina squealed as Warrick snatched back the curtain and said triumphantly, “Gotcha!”

Between howls of laughter, Raina managed to cry out protestingly, “No fair! You
tricked
me into giving away my position.”

Warrick laughed, looking boyishly handsome and immensely pleased with himself. “I told you I'd find you, woman. And it only took—” He flicked a glance at his watch, “ten minutes. Just like I said.”

Giggling helplessly, Raina punched him on the shoulder. “You play dirty, Warrick Mayne. Singing the theme song to
Good Times.
You knew that would get me!”

“Precisely.” He grinned, his dark eyes glimmering with satisfaction. “It didn't work on the plane earlier, so I figured I'd try again. Anyway, I knew you were here the whole time.”

“I know. You probably heard exactly where I was going. I didn't think to remove my shoes until it was too late. Otherwise—”

Warrick shook his head at her. “Just can't accept defeat, can you?”

“Nope,” Raina retorted, wiping tears of laughter from the corners of her eyes. “It's not in my DNA.”

“Hmm. I'll have to remember that,” Warrick drawled, his amused gaze wandering across her face.

“By the way, when did you learn how to play the piano? Was that Mozart?”

“Chopin. I took piano lessons a few years ago.” He shrugged. “I figured if I'm going to own a Steinway, I might as well learn how to play it.”

“You play beautifully. I was very impressed.” Raina gave him a teasing smile. “What other hidden talents do you possess?”

As soon as the lighthearted words left her mouth, she immediately realized it was the wrong thing to say.

Warrick's lazy grin faded.

And just like that, the air between them changed, crackling with the latent heat and sensuality that pulsed between them every time they were near each other.

Suddenly Raina couldn't draw enough air into her lungs. She was acutely aware of the sheer breadth of his shoulders, his clean, masculine scent, the warmth radiating from his body. Nervously she ran her tongue over her parched lips.

Another mistake.

Warrick lowered his eyes to her mouth, his thick black lashes sweeping down with the movement. The intensity of his hot, focused gaze made her pulse accelerate. An internal alarm warned her to leave, to get away from this dangerous man
right now,
but she couldn't move. Her feet remained rooted to the floor, her back pressed against the wall.

When Warrick shifted a fraction closer, her nipples hardened, and a throbbing ache flooded her loins.

What would it be like, she wondered, to have this gorgeous, virile man clasped between her legs, moving inside her with deep, penetrating thrusts that drove her to a mind-blowing orgasm?

When she found herself mentally calculating how long it would take them to reach her room—or the master suite, whichever was closest—she knew she was in trouble.

When he moved again, her hips arched off the wall of their own volition, instinctively seeking the heat of his body. His big, warm hands grasped her waist, gently pulling her against him, letting her feel his rigid arousal. The deep ache between her thighs intensified until she thought she would come right there, fully clothed. Just like before.

Warrick lowered his head, angling his mouth over hers. But instead of kissing her, he let their shallow breaths mingle, and somehow that was just as powerfully arousing as the brush of his soft lips would have been.

“I wonder,” he murmured, the low, velvety timbre of his voice sending jolts of sensation shooting from her belly to her throbbing loins.

Raina was half out of her mind with the blind, desperate hunger that had overtaken her, but somehow she managed to frame a coherent response. “Wonder what?” she breathed.

Slowly, deliberately, Warrick brought his face closer to hers, so
close that their mouths were separated by less than a hairsbreadth. Raina shivered uncontrollably, on the verge of begging him to kiss her.

“I wonder,” he whispered huskily, “what the good doctor would say if he could see us now.”

Raina stiffened, his words hitting her like a sharp blast of ice water, instantly cooling her ardor. Anger and humiliation swept through her.

Warrick stepped back and slowly lifted his gaze to hers, a terrible, mocking gleam in his eyes. “Not that I don't enjoy a little foreplay,” he drawled insolently. “But I thought at least one of us should remember that you're practically engaged.”

Glaring at him, Raina said the only thing she could: “Go to hell, Warrick.”

He gave a low, mirthless laugh. “I'm already there, Raina. Believe me, I'm already there.”

But Raina hardly heard his response above the boiling rage coursing through her blood, pounding in her ears.

Giving him one last scathing look, she stepped around him and strode out of the room with her shoulders squared and her head held high.

Once she was safely out of sight, however, she sagged against the nearest wall and closed her eyes against the hot, bitter sting of tears.

She was as furious with herself as she was with Warrick. How could she have forgotten, even for a moment, how ruthless and calculating he could be? How could she have let down her guard so easily with him after vowing not to let such a thing happen? No matter how charming and attentive he'd been tonight, no matter how fierce the attraction between them, the hard, cold truth was that Warrick hated her guts. The generous deeds, the expensive gifts, the thoughtful little notes, the endearing playfulness. It was all part of his grand scheme to get what he wanted from her. By his own admission, he was courting her the way he would any other prospective client. And
still
he couldn't resist humiliating her, punishing her in his own cruel little ways.

Reese's sage warning echoed through her mind.
Warrick Mayne can hurt you in a way no one else can.

Raina drew a deep, shuddering breath that burned in her lungs. She'd allowed herself to get caught up in one of her foolish girlhood
fantasies. The grand mansion with the enchanting gardens, combined with the romantic candlelight dinner with Warrick, had cast a spell over her. She'd almost tricked herself into believing she was starring in her own fairy tale. But she wasn't an ugly duckling turned swan princess, and Warrick was no Prince Charming.

They were enemies. Two adversaries squaring off on the dueling field, trying to see who could draw first blood, each determined to be the last one standing.

With a new resolve steeling her spine, Raina straightened from the wall. If Warrick thought she was going down without a fight, then he really
didn't
know her at all.

 

After Raina stormed out of the music room, Warrick swore under his breath, sank down heavily on the piano bench and dropped his head into his hands.