Love on the Rocks

by Pamela Yaye

  Warrick was so engrossed in reading the article he didn’t notice his sister in the doorway until she cleared her throat. “Is this a bad time?”

  Startled, he stared up at his sister. “Rachael, what brings you by?” he asked, sliding the magazine into his top drawer and coming around the desk. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

  “Do I need an excuse to visit my little brother?” She gave him a one-armed hug. “My Pilates class just finished and since the studio is only a few blocks over, I decided to swing by. What are you up to?”

  Scratching his cheek, he shrugged with an affected air of boredom. “You know, this and that. Working hard to keep our clients happy. In fact, I was just reviewing contracts when you walked in.”

  “Liar! You were checking out Tangela’s spread in People,” she announced, plopping down on the padded chair in front of his desk. “And you were slobbering all over yourself, too!”

  Unzipping her leather handbag, she retrieved her copy of the magazine. Shaking her head, she gestured to the cover with her hands. “I still can’t believe it’s her! The last time I saw Tangela, she was a mess. Wailing, crying, rambling about how much she loved you. It was awful. She was a pitiful sight back then, but now look at her.” Her voice was a mixture of awe and respect. “Tangela’s one bad-ass chick!”

  “Why didn’t you tell me she was upset over the breakup?”

  “Would it have made a difference? You didn’t want to marry her and there was no getting around that.” Abandoning the magazine, she wore a fond smile. “You’re a good man, Warrick, and one day you’re going to make some woman very happy. But Tangela’s not the one. You know it, I know it, and so does she.” Rachael softened the blow by saying, “Don’t look so glum, bro. The breakup was the best thing ever to happen to you. You said so yourself.”

  Tongue-tied, he listened to his sister say he was too immature for a commitment as enormous as marriage. Warrick started to defend himself, but the words didn’t come. What could he say? Rachael was right. He wasn’t ready. And at thirty-one he didn’t have to be. He had his whole life ahead of him. Why would he want to ruin it by giving up his freedom? A ball and chain held as much appeal as taking a spin in the electric chair.

  “I don’t mean to be harsh, but you get an A in business and an F in relationships. You’re just not the settle-down type and that’s okay. It’s not like Dad has been a good role model.” Eyes soft with sympathy, she crossed her legs and waited a half second before she continued. “Since I’m here,” she began, straightening, “there’s a situation we really need to discuss.”

  Notorious for being overdramatic, his sister used the word situation so regularly he never knew what to expect. Was the maintenance light on in her Land Rover? Had his brother-in-law forgotten their anniversary? Or was her poodle, Fefe, sick again?

  “I want you to promise me you won’t trip when you see Tangela.”

  “Fat chance of that,” he scoffed. “I won’t be in Guadalajara anytime soon. But if I ever make it down there, I’ll be sure to look her up.”

  Staring at him, her forehead wrinkled in confusion, she asked what he was talking about. “Tangela got back from Mexico weeks ago.”

  “What!” The force of his tone shook the windows. “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah, she lives in a swanky new singles complex in Canyon Gate.”

  “I had no clue. Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “You didn’t ask.” Rachael rushed along. “Tangela doesn’t want to go to the Hawthorne party because you’ll be there, but I assured her it wouldn’t be a problem.”

  “What are you, the middleman now?”

  “No, just a concerned friend. Tangela’s dating a new guy and you’ve got…” She paused, as if waiting for divine intervention. “And you’ve got work. You’re both happy, thriving even.”

  Sneering, he gripped the arms of his chair. So, that’s what this was about. Tangela had moved on and didn’t want him getting in the way. Wasn’t it bad enough she’d walked out on him? To stick it to him, she’d lost weight, sexed-up her look and lured their friends over to her side. Back in town less than a month and she was already turning his life upside down. Typical Tangela. She might look like an angel, but she was a barracuda in heels.

  But as her image passed through his mind, his anger deflated, leaving him feeling empty inside. Learning she was someone else’s girl pissed him off. Stroking his chin, he told himself he didn’t care. But deep down, he did. Who was this guy she was dating? Tangela had always had a thing for men in uniform. Buff, muscular types who made females swoon. Curious about her new boyfriend but worried his interest would be misconstrued, he decided not to interrogate his sister.

  “Rachael, I’m not going to cause a scene. Like I told you before, I’m over her.”

  Looking hopeful, she said, “You’ve put the past behind you and you’re going to be cordial and friendly when you see her, right, Warrick?”

  Warrick nodded absently. He’d planned to skip the party and spend the evening evaluating the New Orleans development project budget, but if Tangela was going, he was going. But where was he going to find a costume at the last minute? As he searched for a solution, another thought came to mind. I don’t have a date. There would be lots of other couples, and Tangela would be there, prancing around the room on the arm of some hunky beefcake.

  Second thoughts surfaced. With everything going on at the office, he didn’t have four hours to waste schmoozing with the Las Vegas elite, even if it was for the Hawthornes. Every year, the powerhouse couple threw a Halloween party at their lavish home, and although Warrick enjoyed partying with his friends, he couldn’t muster up the energy this time.

  “You made the trip for nothing. I’m not going. I have too much to do around here.” Anxious to get back to work, Warrick thanked Rachael for coming and hustled her out of his office. “Tell the boys their uncle is taking them toy-shopping on Sunday.”

  Rachael groaned. “I don’t have any more room in the house for trucks and GameCubes, so keep the new toys at your house,” she suggested, stopping in front of the elevators.

  “What will my lady friend think if she trips over an action figure?” Warrick shook his head, a roguish twinkle in his eyes. “Can’t have her thinking I’m one of those soft mushy types who loves children, now can I?”

  “Oh, so you’re seeing someone.” Her eyes were bright, round stars and her voice was infused with enthusiasm. “That’s terrific! I’ve been really worried about you,” she confessed. “You haven’t been yourself ever since Tangela left. The old Warrick was fun and outgoing and loved to have a good time.” She added, “I miss him.”

  “I wish everybody would quit saying that. I’m not dead, I’m busy. I have a lot going on right now.” The elevator chimed and the doors slid open. Saved by the bell, he thought, ushering Rachael inside. “Have a good time and give my regards to Mr. and Mrs. Hawthorne.”

  “I will. See ya!”

  Alone now, he thought back over what his sister had said. Tangela had some nerve sending Rachael over here to talk to him. He had as much right to be at the Hawthorne party as she did. Hell, more. The couple were friends of his family. Tangela had met them through him, and even though she saw them regularly, it didn’t mean they liked her more. Screw her and her stupid magazine cover. Tangela might think she was all that, but she wasn’t.

  Warrick’s gaze fell on the clock hanging across the room. Six-oh-nine. If he hauled ass, he could make a quick stop at a costume store and still arrive at the party on time. Half walking, half running, Warrick sped back down the hall. All he needed now was a date. Names and faces swirled in his mind. Janet? No, she was in San Francisco on business. Maliyah wouldn’t be able to find a babysitter on such short notice, and although Claire was an accomplished pianist, she couldn’t hold a candle to Tangela in the looks department.

  Head bent, Warrick considered every woman he knew. He couldn’t invite just anyone to the party. Not when Tangela looke
d like a million bucks. His date had to be gorgeous, sexy, hot. Someone who’d make the men drool and the women jealous. That was the only criteria and by the time Warrick reached his office he knew just who to call.

  Chapter Two

  “Where is she?” Warrick asked, his gaze combing the darkened living room. An hour ago, he’d been greeted by Mrs. Hawthorne, ushered over to the bar and offered a variety of cocktails and appetizers. “Are you sure the woman you saw was Tangela?”

  The question must have sounded like a desperate plea and Warrick’s friend, Quinten Harris, dressed as one of Nevada’s finest, gave him a scathing look under his fake cop glasses. “Let it go, dog. You guys are all wrong for each other. You’re like a ticking time bomb. You’re good for a couple of months then—” he threw his hands in the air “—ka-boom!”

  Quinten laughed, but Warrick didn’t, saying, “Shut up, no one asked you.”

  “Just calling it like I see it. Face it, dude, she’s just not that into you.”

  Annoyed, Warrick opened his mouth with a stinging retort, but swallowed it when he felt a delicate hand on his forearm. He cast a glance over his shoulder, and found his date staring up at him. The former debutante wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box, but she’d been the Jet Beauty of the Week twice and dazzled in her mermaid costume.

  Turning toward his date, he greeted her warmly. “Hi, Alexis. Is everything all right?”

  “I see a…an old friend out on the patio. Do you mind if go over and say hello?” she trilled, adjusting her outfit to reveal more flesh. When she popped open a gold compact and cleaned the corners of her mouth with her tongue, he knew her “friend” was a member of the opposite sex. “I won’t be long.”

  “Take your time,” he muttered, watching her sail through the French doors. Popular in her own right, Alexis Nyguard exchanged business cards with the men and shared beauty tips with the women. I sure know how to pick them, he thought, when he saw Alexis throw her arms around a swarthy man dressed in a hot-dog costume.

  Glad she was gone, he turned back to his friend. “Know anything about Tangela’s date?”

  “Name’s Leonard Butkiss. He’s a plumber.”

  Warrick chuckled. “You’re yanking my chain.”

  “I couldn’t have come up with something that funny if I tried.”

  Both men laughed.

  “What does this Butkiss guy look like?”

  “What does he look like?” Quinten mimicked, shaking his head. Scowling, he reached over and plucked the S embellished on the front of his friend’s costume. “A superhero, my ass. You should have gone with something more feminine like Snow White. You’re too soft to be a superhero.” His harsh, grating chuckle got louder. “Why are you so hell-bent on seeing her, anyway? It’s about the car, isn’t it?”

  “No, I’m over that. Besides, Tangela must have been really hard up for money to sell it. She loved her little Sunbeam.” Four months after their breakup, he’d spotted the classic automobile in the classified section of the newspaper. When he’d seen it weeks later on a used-car Web site, he’d actually considered buying it. At five thousand dollars below value, it was a steal. But whenever he looked at the car, he remembered all the times they’d made love in the backseat, and it was hard enough not thinking about her as it was.

  “Pull yourself together, man.” Folding his thick lumberjack-like arms across his middle, Quinten scanned the partying crowd. “This desperate, R. Kelly–type vibe you’re giving off ain’t cool. It’s scaring off the honies.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with me wanting to see her,” he argued, prepared to defend himself. “We dated for seven years, remember?”

  “How can I forget when you keep reminding me?” Quinten snapped. After a beat, he said, “Did you know that fifty-three percent of marriages end in divorce within the first five years? You guys never would have made it that long. You’re both too jealous and hardheaded.”

  Warrick blew out a breath of frustration. Why was everyone so dead-set against him seeing Tangela? First his sister and now Quinten. Was he that bad? How come everyone forgot that she’d walked out on him? While he was in New York negotiating the biggest deal of his career, Tangela had packed her stuff, rented a truck and moved out. He’d lost sleep over it, not her. So why was everyone rallying around poor ol’ Tangela?

  “Leave the woman alone. She’s moved on and you should, too.”

  Anger flared in Warrick’s belly. Running his tongue over his teeth, he lifted his glass of soda to his mouth to keep from decking his friend in the face. Quinten didn’t know jack about women. His longest relationship had lasted as long as a Super Bowl commercial and there were parts of the city he couldn’t drive through for fear of bodily harm. The management consultant had broken hearts in every county from Tule Springs to Charleston and showed no signs of stopping. “Like I’m going to take advice from someone who gets dating tips from Playboy magazine.”

  “It’s over. She’s not coming back.” Quinten’s eyes roved appreciatively over a shapely woman in a cocktail bunny costume. “Rejoice, man. Now she’s somebody else’s problem.” Clapping a hand on Warrick’s shoulder, Quinten swiped a champagne flute from a passing waiter’s tray and raised it high in the air. “Congratulations! All your problems are gone!”

  Warrick didn’t join in the celebration.

  “Stay away from Tangela,” Quinten warned, striding off.

  Warrick scanned the darkened room, peering around the tombstones hanging from the ceiling. Avoiding Tangela wasn’t the answer. In fact, he was secretly hoping to run into her. Closure. That’s what he needed. Wandering around, he searched for something to do. Alexis was dancing with an Austin Powers look-alike, Quinten was flirting with a sexy gypsy and couples everywhere held hands, kissed and shared private jokes. The way he and Tangela used to.

  Warrick took the elevator to the second floor of the palatial home and knew instinctively that his ex was there. Her Oriental fragrance sweetened the air. Seconds later, he heard her rich, effervescent laugh. Heart pounding, mouth wet with anticipation, he resisted the urge to run full-speed down the hall. Careful not to spill his drink on the carpet, he shouldered his way through the crowd of partygoers. Warrick brushed fake cobwebs away from his face as he ducked into the game room. Standing nonchalantly in the doorway, he surveyed the scene. And there, beside the pool table, was his first love, Tangela Marie Howard.

  Coughing, he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. His nervous system went berserk and it took several seconds before his heart rate slowed. Tangela had always had that effect on him, but tonight it was a hundred times worse. It wasn’t the stylish haircut, or even her shrunken waistline that stunned him. It was her costume. He hadn’t expected to see her dressed in a leather cat-woman bodysuit that accentuated every luscious slope. Her dark dramatic eyes, visible through the slits in her face mask, and her lush red lips enhanced her staggering sex appeal.

  At a statuesque five feet ten inches, Tangela towered over all of the women in the room and more than half of the men. Her costume left nothing to the imagination and made the Pussycat Dolls look like a bunch of Catholic school girls. Once, to spice up things in the bedroom, he’d suggested she dress up in one of those skimpy maid’s uniforms. Not only had Tangela flat-out refused, she’d given him the cold shoulder that night in bed, but now she was boldly flaunting her salacious curves. His ex obviously had a wild streak he knew nothing about, and that made him wonder what else she’d kept hidden from him all those years.

  Jealousy reared its ugly head as he watched Tangela cheer on her date. She used to look at him that way. Eyes twinkling, face aglow, lips holding a smile reserved just for him. Seeing Tangela with another man, even a fluffy, out-of-shape plumber, made Warrick burn inside. How had it been so easy for her to start over?

  Nine years ago, when he’d met Tangela Howard at Tower Records, it had been love at first sight. A scrawny teenager had crashed into a life-size cutout of Aerosmith and sent hundreds of CDs cras
hing to the floor. Warrick glanced up, wondering how the kid could have missed the gigantic display. Then he noticed the crooked grins on the faces of the male customers and trailed their covetous gazes. Shoulders bouncing, hips twirling, the tall, voluptuous girl at the back of the store in the skintight jeans grooved as if she was at a hip-hop concert.

  Warrick made his move and after a few minutes of polite conversation asked her out. By the end of their first date, the twenty-year-old business administration student had captured his heart. Friends labeled them polar opposites and discouraged them from dating. They had mismatched tastes in music, movies and food, but Tangela understood him better than anyone and supported him wholeheartedly.

  In the beginning, she’d praised him for climbing swiftly up the corporate ladder. But soon she was complaining about his crazy schedule. Warrick wanted to spend time with her, but he wasn’t cutting back his hours or delegating more tasks to his team. It was hard enough proving himself. Founded in 1978, Maxim Designs and Architects was one of the leading architectural companies in the world and was widely known for its international landmark structures and commercial projects. The other architects thought he’d been hired because his father owned the company and they didn’t try to hide their contempt. They didn’t care that he worked weekends or stayed at the office until midnight. He was the boss’s son and they resented his success.