The Drakes of California

Chapter 4

Warren thought about riding over. Jumping on Coal, the Thoroughbred stallion he’d purchased several years ago when he was still a pony. Thought about kicking up dust and laying down grass, much like Charli had done when arriving at his place. He’d been impressed with her horsemanship and a part of him wanted to show her that she wasn’t the only one who could sit in a saddle and handle business.

Warren had been riding horses since he could walk and of all of his brothers was the one most connected to the land. But he bypassed the stables and headed to the makeshift parking lot that when finished would be a circular design that could comfortably hold a dozen vehicles or more. He’d drive over, like most people would in the twenty-first century. I’m not trying to impress her; no reason to. This thought entered his mind as he opened the door to his cherry-red Maserati and slid inside.

After discussing it with his brother and Jackson, he’d come up with an answer to his neighbor’s problem. Not that he needed to, mind you. What happened on her land with her property was not his responsibility. No sirree, as his grandfather would say. And even though he’d be sure and keep mindful of the mile his father warned some would take for an inch of kindness, Warren also heeded his mother’s words to “play nice” and his own desire to take a chance.

* * *

She sensed him first. Before seeing the dust, before hearing the car, Charli felt a squiggle go from her core to a place that had seen little action in the past two years. Rising from her kneeling position where she’d been pulling the weeds trying to get friendly with her kales and collards, she shielded her eyes from the midday sun and squinted. Rare for a car to be coming down this road and she wouldn’t know who it was. But she did know. Could sense that it was him. One of them. One of the bourgie possums. Who else would drive such a swanky car in the middle of dirt roads, jackrabbits and tumbleweed?

“What does he want?” she mumbled, angrily pulling off her gardening gloves and trying to ignore the rapid beating of her heart. “He’s the last person I want to see.” Liar! She began walking to the road on slightly shaky legs, anger rising at the way her body reacted. He was just a man. Her farm was full of them. She’d grown up with them all around her. And now of all times she was growing moist between her legs? Ridiculous.

She reached the drive just as Warren turned off the engine. She stood there, arms crossed, face properly scowled to show the working of one’s nerves. The nonchalant mask threatened to slip a bit as after a brief moment the man got out—translation: uncoiled—his long, lean frame from a car that looked too small to hold him. She’d refused to consider it yesterday but now allowed herself to guess. Around six-four. Or five. Around two hundred pounds. Probably five percent body fat. She tried to digest these thoughts with the disinterest of one examining cattle flesh. In that vein, this was a very nice bull.

* * *

When he first turned off the engine, Warren didn’t move. He sat there fairly entranced at the vision before him. Backlit by the sun, she looked like an angel: a halo of long, unruly hair, skin bronzed and glowing, fitted white tee that unlike the oversize one she’d worn yesterday clung to her ample breasts and let him know that she was all woman. Her jeans were worn and tattered, clinging to curvy thighs, toned, no doubt, by the way she rode a horse. She can probably clench them tight enough to crack a walnut. Blood rushed to another nut, followed by thoughts of what else she could clench, causing Warren to shift his body and his thoughts while reaching for the door handle and finding a smile.

“Good afternoon.” A curt nod was her greeting. “Nice-looking place you’ve got here.” She cocked her head to the other side. Okay, so she wouldn’t win the trophy for Miss Congeniality. Warren decided to bypass the small talk and get right to the point. “I, uh, think I might have an answer to the problem you mentioned yesterday.”

She uncrossed her arms. “I’m listening.”

With her arms now at her side, Warren found himself drawn once again to that rack of a body: full, round breasts, narrow waist, wide hips...damn. Is it possible for her to look even better than she did yesterday? She placed her hands in her back pockets and fixed him with a look that suggested she was long on agitation and short on patience.

“We can put a gate on that part of the fence, the part that’s by the stream.”

“Will it be locked?”

“Most likely. It’s too far away for my men to oversee and while it’s a good distance away from the vineyard, I don’t want to have to wonder who or what might be sneaking through.”

“So how is this giving access to my cattle?”

“Just tell me what time you need it open and I can make sure that happens.”

“I don’t appreciate having to give you a schedule.”

“And I don’t appreciate your funky attitude. Has anybody ever pointed it out to you?”

“A time or two.”

It was a brief instant, a nanosecond really, but Warren could have sworn that the merest of smiles accompanied this statement. And he would be damned if he didn’t kind of like it.

“We can install a gate and work out a time frame each day that it will be open and available to your livestock. That’s my offer. Take it or leave it.”

“I guess I’ll take it, though it would be much easier if the gate remained unlocked. Other than coyote and deer there’s not much to worry about around these parts. We had an issue with cow rustlers awhile back, but we fixed that problem.”

“How’d you do that?”

“With a twenty-two.”

“Ha!”

There it was again, that almost smile. He was sure he’d seen it this time.

“How soon can you get that gate in?”

“We’ll order it today. As soon as it arrives, shouldn’t take more than a day to have it installed.”

Another nod.

“Well, I guess that’s it.”

He hesitated, having nothing more to say but not wanting to go. He’d had his share of women, even had one chomping at the bit to marry him. But there was something about this one, something about her feistiness and her don’t-give-a-damn attitude that moved him, intrigued him, made him want to know about her and maybe break down that wall. It made him wonder about the man responsible for her building it in the first place. But none of this was his business. She was his neighbor, nothing more, and probably one he wouldn’t see much past this meeting.

“All right then. Goodbye.” He turned and headed back to his car, his long strides quickly widening the distance between them.

“Drake.”

He turned back around. “The name’s Warren.” He said this even though he liked the way his surname rolled off her tongue. He liked the sound of her voice, too, low and raspy, could imagine it moaning in the throes of pleasure.

“Thank you. I appreciate it.”

He smiled, got into his car and drove away, feeling as proud as a Boy Scout who’d just earned a new badge. He had a feeling there was a lot more to Charli Reed than met the eye. And in this moment, he silently admitted that he wanted to know it all.

Chapter 5

Warren parked his car next to Jackson’s truck. There were also a few cars he didn’t recognize.

Jackson looked up as he approached. “Must not have gone too bad.”

“It went all right.”

“No battle scars, head still intact, proof that she didn’t bite it off.”

Warren grinned. “She wanted to.”

Richard walked up, having heard the last exchange. “A hellion, that one. I sure would like to tame her.”

“You won’t have time for that,” Warren retorted, harsher than he’d intended. “I want this house finished as soon as possible, eight weeks tops. That includes the guest houses.” He turned to Jackson. “Still think we can meet that deadline?”

“For the right price, anything is possible. Especially in this economy. There are plenty of men looking for work and workers love nothing better than overtime pay.”

“I want you to get the size of crew you need to deliver within that time frame. Life will be easier if I’m living here during at least part of the harvesting of the first crop. Just run the numbers by me.”

Jackson nodded. “Will do.” He looked at Richard. “I left the roll of blueprints down by where the pool is going to be. Do you think you can go and bring it up for me?”

“Sure, man,” Richard responded. He gave Warren a quick, unreadable look, then turned and left.

Jackson watched after him, his eyes narrowed in thought. “What’s his story?”

“Richard is an old friend from New Orleans. Made some bad choices that landed him in prison. Our families are close—he became almost like a brother after my grandfather became his mentor. Practically lived at his home, became real close to my grandmother and later my mom. She talked me into helping him get a fresh start. Hard to land a job with a felony on your résumé.”

“What’d he do?”

“Sold drugs. Made a lot of money, too. I think the feds took most of it.”

“Easy come, easy go.”

“Exactly.”

“You trust him?”

Warren’s head shot up. “Yes. Why?”

“I don’t know. Something about his eyes.”

“Richard is always running game, but he’s cool overall.”

Jackson’s look showed he was not convinced. “You remember where I grew up, right? South Central L.A., where our playground was the streets. Brothers like him, who thought they were smarter, shrewder and more clever than the rest, were a dime a dozen and easy to spot. If I were you, I’d keep an eye out.”

Warren nodded. “Think you’ll have enough work to keep him busy?”

“I’ll have enough work to keep his mind off of that fine filly who’s got your nose wide open.”

“Charli’s easy on the eyes, I’ll give her that. Not my type, though. Too mannish, too much attitude. I like women who enjoy being women, know what I’m saying?”

“Sure, War. If you say so.”

“I say so,” Warren said firmly, then quickly changed the subject. “Where’s Diamond?”

“Probably buying up half of San Francisco. But I’d better get busy. She wants me to try out some swanky restaurant tonight. Our reservations are at eight and she threatened to hold out on the nooky if I’m late.”

“Then by all means...let me leave you to your work.”

Warren began walking toward the stables, noting that as Richard brought up the blueprints that Jackson wanted, he kept looking in the direction of Charli’s place.

You trust him? Something about his eyes.

He’d given Jackson ready answers but in hindsight the question gave him pause. True, he’d known Richard for years, but people could change. He’d heard of more than one man who’d come back from prison a different man. So far, Richard acted like his old self. Warren would be paying close attention to make sure he stayed that way.

Chapter 6

“Miss Alice, I know you mean well, but—”

“No, no ifs, ands or buts, Charlene. I promised your grandfather that I’d watch over you, make sure you don’t get swallowed up by that ranch. You’re going to the dance.”

Charli jumped up from the comfy rocker in the living room and began to pace the hardwood floors. “Let’s do something else,” she suggested, switching the phone to her other ear. “Go into the city for shopping or lunch.”

“I’ve suggested that, remember? Two or three times. Hasn’t happened.”

“Next week, promise.”

“The dance. Tonight.” Amid Charli’s continued sulking, Alice continued, “How can you even think about not attending the Days of Paradise Ball? This is the one time of year that all of the residents get together, the one time that we celebrate the founding of our town.”

“I entered cattle in the farm animal contest.”

“All well and good, but the dance is the main event. You’ve got to come.”

“I don’t have anything to wear!” It was Charli’s long shot, banking on a short memory.

“Nonsense, you have that beautiful dress I ordered for you last month.” So much for that hope. Alice’s memory was fine. “You tried it on at my house, remember? It fit you perfectly.”

“Miss Alice, you know how I feel about these types of events, and the people who will be attending.”

“Yes, and it’s high time you change those feelings. You can try and deny it as much as you want to but this is where you belong. Your mother—”

“Is she the one behind all this?” Charli stopped in her tracks. “Will she be there?”

“Charlene, I know you and your mother have had your share of differences.” Charli let out an unladylike snort. “But she really does love you.”

“Oh, really? Is that why she abandoned me for her lover? Is that why I spent so much time with Grandpa Charles growing up?”

“Did you not like spending time with Charles?”

“You know I loved Gramps. That’s not the point.”

“I hope you can resolve these feelings of ill will, child. Pierre is now your stepfather.”

“That man will never be anything to me.”

“Your mother will not be there, Charlene.”

“I wish you’d call me Charli.”

“Charlene is a beautiful name for a beautiful woman. It’s that feminine side of you that gets far too little attention. I want you to let her out tonight. With me. At the dance.”

Charli sighed. “You’re just not going to quit bugging me, are you?”

“Sure I will. Just as soon as you get here. Say, around seven?”

“What time does the party start?”

“Nine. But you need time to get ready.”

“How long does it take to put on a dress?”

“We need our girl time. I have someone coming over for our hair and makeup. See you in about two hours?”

“If you insist.”

“I do.”

* * *

Warren stood in the middle of his walk-in closet, staring at what he called his monkey suits and wishing for the umpteenth time that he hadn’t picked up the phone. He recalled the conversation.

“I had other plans for tonight, Mother.”

That those plans were a delivered pizza and early bedtime need not be shared.

“I reminded you about the table for ten we purchased two weeks ago,” his mother had countered. You promised you’d come.”

“I don’t remember.”

“You were on your way out the door. But you agreed.”

“Great.”

“The money made from the sale of tables is for a good cause. We’re going to build a combination food bank and donation center somewhere in town. Everyone goes to the Days of Paradise gala, Warren. Besides, you’ve been working too hard lately. And there’s a surprise.”

Oh, here we go. “Who is she?”

He grimaced at his mother’s tinkling chuckle, grating because of what was sure to come next.

“Rachel’s home.”

“So now we get to the real reason for all this prodding.”

“Surprised you need it for such a beautiful girl, or rather, young woman. She’s even more stunning than when she left to finish her senior year. You’re almost thirty years old, Warren. Time to think about settling down.”

“Junior’s thirty-two. Go and bug him.”

“Oh, trust me, Ike Jr. gets his share of...encouragement. But right now I’m not talking to him. I’m talking to you.” Silence. “Rachel graduated with dual degrees in psychology and music theory.”

“She’s still playing the piano?”

“Beautifully, even participated in a concert at Carnegie Hall. Any man would be blessed to have her. She’s gorgeous, talented, comes from a great family with morals like ours.”

“And it doesn’t hurt that her father works for the leader of the free world.”

“I’d never want to be considered a social climber, but yes, her father’s prestigious position at the White House is a definite plus.”

“Which tux should I wear, black, navy or gray?”

“The black one, definitely. And it would be a nice touch, sweetheart, if you brought Rachel a little welcome-home gift. Nothing too frilly. A single rose, perhaps? Or a nice box of chocolates?”

“I’d rather not, Mother. I know how women think and to give her anything like that would be giving her the wrong idea.”

“You’re a kind, thoughtful man, no? What’s wrong about that?”

“Absolutely nothing. Which is why I’ll welcome Rachel home with a greeting and a smile.”

“Now, Warren—”

“Goodbye, Mother. See you at the dance.”

He finished dressing, splashed on cologne and headed for the door. A smile spread across his face as a thought occurred. He’d told his mother that he was coming to the dance. But he hadn’t told her how long he planned to stay. Not long. He felt better already.

Chapter 7

Anybody entering the Paradise Cove Country Club would be hard-pressed to imagine it belonged to a community of less than three thousand. Every aspect of the building was magnificent, both inside and out, and everyone who entered the solid brass double doors looked as though they belonged. Limos vied with Maybachs and Bentleys and enough diamonds sparkled to rival the night’s starry sky.

“Warren!”

He turned around and smiled as the twins walked toward him. “Hello, Teresa.” He leaned down to give his sister a hug. “You look amazing.”

She curtsied. “Well, thank you, brother dear. You look dapper as well.”

“Terrell.” Warren and his brother shared a fist bump and a hug.

“Careful,” Terrell said, brushing nonexistent lint off each of his shoulders. “Don’t mess up the threads.”

“Trouble coming toward us,” Teresa mumbled, turning her head and twirling a curl.

Warren resisted looking, but Terrell turned around. “Well, if it isn’t Mr. CEO and the princess.”

Now he didn’t have to turn around. He knew who it was: Ms. Gold Digger, Ms. Social Climber. Ms. Will Do Anything to Marry a Drake. Niko had alluded to bringing someone respectable. Even though her stint as an exotic dancer had been very brief and in another state, Terrell knew that this was not the title his mom would give Ashley. She was going to be furious.

“Hello, family,” Niko said as he approached.

“Hello, Niko,” Warren said with a brother’s handshake. “Ashley,” he said with a nod.

“Hello, everyone,” Ashley responded.

“Where’s the rest of the family?” Niko asked.

“Inside,” Warren said, “and they’re probably wondering about us. Let’s go join them.”

The Drakes entered and the response they received resembled the Red Sea parting. Everyone turned and those in their path stepped back, offering hugs, greetings and compliments as they made their way to the table where their parents and remaining siblings either sat or stood chatting.

There was someone else there, too. Rachel.

“There you are!” Jennifer waved Warren over as soon as she saw him.

His mother was right. Rachel was stunning. She looked like a tanned porcelain doll—perfect and delicate—her hair designed in attractive ringlets, her beaded dress a perfect fit, her jewelry, which he knew cost a mint, elegant and understated. So why in this moment did his mind drift to a surly neighbor with dirty hands and scuffed boots?

“Hello, Rachel.” He leaned in to give her a light hug.

She wrapped her arms around his neck for a longer, more personal squeeze. “Warren,” she said, stepping back but continuing to hold his hand. “It is so great to see you. Now I really feel like I’m home.”

“Rachel has agreed to join the Golden Gates auxiliary and help with the plans to raise money for the center I told you about, and a variety of other charities.”

“That’s wonderful.”

“There are so many unfortunate people in this world,” Rachel stated, long, thick lashes surrounding the doe-like eyes that looked at Warren in a love-starved way. “It’s the least I can do.”

“You’ve always been such a caring soul, Rachel. I think that...” In a rare moment, Jennifer was distracted to the point that she lost her train of thought. “Who is that with Alice?” she asked, as if to herself.

Warren and Rachel followed the direction of Jennifer’s gaze.

“I’m not sure,” Rachel responded.

Warren said nothing. Couldn’t, he was speechless. Because he knew exactly who it was, and he couldn’t believe it.

* * *

Charli had one single goal for the night: get through it without falling flat on her butt. How women walked, even danced, in heels was beyond her. And panty hose? Geez. Now she had an idea how ground pork felt in casing. The makeup was foreign on her face; she had to constantly squelch the urge to rub it off. The only thing about Alice’s forced makeover that felt remotely comfortable was the hairstyle. She liked it up and away from her face. But she’d trade all the sparkly pins for a scrunchie in a New York minute.

“I’d like to think all of the gentlemen are looking this way because of my new ’do,” Alice said, patting her freshly cut silver bob. “But it’s clear who’s caught their eye.”

Charli wished it wasn’t. Being the center of attention wasn’t her forte unless the surrounding crowd came with four legs and a snout. “I wish they’d quit staring. It’s disconcerting.”

“By the look on some of the women’s faces,” Alice said, eyes gleaming, “you aren’t the only one unnerved. I see some of my friends, darling. Come.”

Halfway to their destination it happened again. She felt him. Strongly. Without a shadow of a doubt she knew that Warren Drake was here. Keep walking, Charli. And don’t fall!

* * *

“Warren, are you listening?”

“Sorry, Rachel. What did you say?”

“Never mind. It’s clear your attention is elsewhere.”

“I’ve been following you mostly, and am impressed that you want to use your degree to, you know...”

“Follow weather patterns.”

“Right.”

“Wrong, Warren! You’re not listening at all.” Rachel’s normally placid face was in full pout. “You haven’t heard a word anyone has said since she walked in.”

“Who?”

“Do you know her?”

“Not really.”

“Well, now’s your chance.” She walked off in a huff.

Clearly, she was perturbed. With good reason. He was acting like a love-struck fool. “Rachel!”

She didn’t stop. He started to follow her, and then thought better of that idea. Best to let her cool off was his first thought. Maybe I’ll get those flowers or chocolates after all, his second. And his third? To make his way over to the reason for Rachel’s frustration. He turned to do so, took two steps and watched as Richard strolled up to Charli. He took her hand and raised it for a gentlemanly kiss. Always the suave one, that Richard, what with the flawless, smooth face, soft curly locks and bedroom eyes framed by girlishly long lashes. He’d been turning on the charm since grade school and at the beginning of college could pull any girl he wanted away from Warren’s once-clumsy clutches.