by Pamela Yaye
From across the room, their eyes aligned. His lips flared into a smile and she momentarily lost her bearings. Her mouth was drier than dust and she could feel a baseball-size lump in her throat. What was the matter with her? Pouring herself a drink, she fought their intense, mind-numbing attraction. Warrick would always be tied to her past, but he’d never be part of her future. It didn’t matter how good he looked or how lonely she got, she wasn’t going to take him back. They had no business being together and she’d sooner join the three-ring circus than date Warrick James Carver again.
“Girls, look who decided to stop in for a visit,” Sage announced, opening the microwave and taking out the plate of mixed vegetables. “It’s Warrick, y’all.”
Warrick flashed that dreamy, lopsided smile and the women’s faces softened like butter. Overcome with longing, fully and completely lost in his provocative scent, Tangela tried not to stare at his muscles. Slack-jawed, eyes wide, Tangela stared in disbelief as Nadine surged to her feet and poured Warrick a tall glass of orange juice. “That should quench your thirst,” she cooed, touching his forearm. “Is there anything else I can get you?”
Tangela’s eyes were flaming red coals. Five minutes earlier, Nadine had called Warrick a selfish jerk and now she was standing so close to him her D cups were grazing his chest. So much for sisterly solidarity, she thought, deciding she’d better keep a close eye on the attractive Chicago native. She’d met Nadine at a dinner party months earlier, and remembered how she’d impressed the men in attendance with her knowledge of politics, sports and real estate. All of the things Warrick loved. Tangela didn’t want him back, but she wasn’t going to stand by and let Nadine have him, either.
“Warrick, can you go get the guys?” Sage asked, carrying the roasted chicken into the dining room. “Dinner’s ready.”
“Sure, no problem.”
“I’ll come with,” Nadine offered.
Tangela looked on helplessly as the single mom sauntered off with Warrick. Nadine hung on his arm like a Christmas wreath and as they exited the room she heard the backstabber say, “I hear you have a vacation home in the Hamptons. I’d love to see it sometime.”
Chapter Seven
Wild, boisterous laughter drowned out the painfully tender voice of John Legend.
“You slashed his tires, keyed his car and put sugar in his gas tank?” Quinten asked.
“I had to,” Cashmere replied matter-of-factly. “I’m sure I’m not the only one here who’s gotten revenge on an ex. It’s normal to want to get even when you’ve been hurt.”
Tangela agreed, but she wasn’t about to voice her opinion. She placed herself back to the day she’d moved out. Tangela would keep the secret until her grave, but as she’d heaved clothes and shoes and toiletries into her suitcases, she’d actually considered destroying Warrick’s prized model-airplane collection. Intent on getting even, she’d stormed into his office, but stopped short when her gaze fell across the picture on his desk. The one they’d taken with his grandparents during Christmas. Misty-eyed and overcome with guilt, she’d bolted from the room and didn’t stop running until she was inside the garage.
“Cash, you’re like a sister to me, but I can’t help you out on this one,” Sage admitted, snuggling closer to her husband. “I’ve done a lot of crazy things in my life, but I always drew the line at messing with a man’s stuff. You saw A Thin Line Between Love and Hate, didn’t you?”
The group broke out in laughter.
“Y’all don’t know some of the assholes I’ve dated. I’ve met brothers who didn’t know how to do right by a woman, so I have to teach them a thing or two about honesty. It’s like my grandmother used to say, ‘All’s fair in love and war!’”
Theo, Cashmere’s boyfriend of two months, coughed so loudly it sounded as though he’d come down with a serious case of whooping cough. He tried to act normal, tried to project calm, but his voice was swathed in fear. “You’d never do something like that to me, right, baby?”
Shrugging innocently, Cashmere donned a mischievous smile. “Well, that depends. If you’re the honest, hardworking studio engineer you told me you were, then we’ll be cool. But if it turns out you’re a polyester-wearing, walkie-talkie-carrying security guard with two baby mamas, we’re definitely going to have a problem.”
Her response incited the Third World War.
“What’s wrong with blue-collar men? Everyone can’t go to the Harvard Business School you know.” Jonas slouched in his seat. “All you women care about is what kind of car a man drives and how big his bank account is. What’s up with that?”
Nadine joined the discussion. “I busted my butt to finish law school and saved for years to buy my own house. It’s only natural that I’d want to be with a man who has worked just as hard. So Roscoe, who flips burgers at a fast-food joint, just isn’t going to cut it!”
The women laughed, and the climate quickly changed from friendly to hostile. “Cashmere, you should’ve given the guy a break. Maybe he really was separated.” DeAndre pointed a thumb at his chest. “Take it from a guy who knows. Before you get married, you get all the sex you want. After you say ‘I do,’ you’re on some kind of strict military diet.”
Sage smirked. “It sounds like you don’t know how to please your wife.”
“Tell him, girl!” Nadine cheered, nodding vigorously. “Sex is like pizza to you brothers. You can enjoy it even when it’s so-so. It’s not like that for sisters. It has to be damn good for us to want it. I’m talking deep-dish with a cheese crust and everything on it.” She licked her lips. “And I do mean everything.”
Laughter rang out.
“I don’t mind taking care of a woman, as long as her body’s bangin’,” Quentin said.
“A bangin’ body isn’t what makes a woman beautiful or valuable, Q.”
Tangela glanced up from her peach cobbler. Warrick reclined on the brown armchair, a pensive look on his square face. He’d been so quiet, she’d almost forgotten he was there. His gentle voice stilled the clamor and captured everyone’s attention. A man of great intellect, he preferred to listen than to talk, but when he spoke, it was profound. He was a calm, introspective type, and although he’d been educated at one of the best architectural schools in the world he didn’t flaunt his credentials or boast about his numerous awards.
“Beauty is someone who takes care of others, someone who exhibits compassion, empathy and love.” He turned to her and Tangela felt her face flush. “Ever see a woman walk into a room and command the floor? It’s not her hair or her dress that grabs them. It’s her spirit, her soul, her aura. She has an inherent grace that can’t be defined or duplicated.”
“Have you been reading Maya Angelou again?” Quinten bumped elbows with Jonas. “Quick! Someone call Pimp Don Juan. Warrick’s starting to sound like a punk!”
The men burst into laughter, and Tangela rolled her eyes. One thing she’d always loved about Warrick was the depth of his mind. The other guys might be superficial jerks, but he’d been raised well and didn’t get tricked into believing beauty came in a size-two package.
Maybe badmouthing him to her friends had been a little harsh, she thought, stealing a glance at him. After all, he had done some nice things for her during their relationship. He’d massage her feet at the end of a rough flight, run out to buy her aspirin whenever she had cramps and surprised her with romantic, spur-of-the-moment trips a couple of times a year.
“Are we going to Bar 890 or what?” Quinten asked, standing. “My friend’s working the door tonight, and if we get there before nine he’ll let us in for free.”
Tangela stood. Walking down the hall toward the main-floor bathroom, she thought about her late-night rendezvous with Marcello. After using the bathroom, she washed and dried her hands. Inspecting her hair in the antique mirror, Tangela wondered if she could really go through with it. Sleeping with Marcello was risky. What if he was a player? Or worse, only interested in her because she’d been on the cover of People magazi
ne?
Deciding she needed to talk things over with Sage, she shut off the lights and exited the bathroom. But her girlfriend wasn’t in the living room and neither was anyone else. As she picked up her plate, she caught sight of someone on the recliner. Warrick. Eyes closed, he tapped his fingers to the beat of the song playing. He looked relaxed, dreamy and oh-so-fine. Tall, dark and hot, she decided, smiling indulgently to herself. Worried she might get carried away, she turned toward the kitchen. “Tangela?”
She stopped. “How did you know it was me?”
“Your perfume,” he explained, his eyes open and burning into her with a firelike intensity. “I’d recognize that scent anywhere.”
“Where is everyone?”
“The guys left.” He motioned with his head to the ceiling. “Marshall’s on the phone and the girls are upstairs trying to find something to wear in Sage’s closet.”
“And you’re…”
“Waiting for you.”
Genuinely surprised, she frowned. “Why would you be waiting for me?”
“You’re going to the club with us, right?” he asked, standing and crossing the room toward her. “It’ll be like old times. You have to come.”
“I have other plans.”
“At eight-thirty? You’re usually asleep by now or in bed watching Grey’s Anatomy.”
“That was then and this is now,” she snapped, annoyed that he remembered her routine. “And if you must know, a friend of mine is stopping by. A male friend.”
“Anyone I know?”
Hoping to put more distance between them, she picked up the dessert plates from the coffee table and went into the kitchen. Instead of staying put, he followed.
“Have your friend meet us at Bar 890.”
“I can’t. I have to get…” She stumbled for the appropriate word. Sexy? No. Bootylicious?
Wrong again. “Why do you care whether or not I come? It never mattered to you when we were dating.” Unrepentant about her strong remarks, she folded her arms across her chest. “You preferred when I stayed home. According to you, I was too clingy and you didn’t want me hanging on you all night.”
“Tangela, before we became lovers we were friends. Good friends.” He reached for her hand. His touch ignited sparks and his cologne was refreshing, as though he’d just stepped out of the shower. Unwanted memories surfaced. Clad in boxer shorts, a rose between his teeth, one night he’d slipped into bed and made love to her with such tenderness she’d had to fight back the tears. Tangela erased the image. She refused to think about that night, no matter how passionate and exhilarating it was.
Slamming the door on her memories, she listened to Warrick talk about seeing her on the magazine cover for the first time. “I feel like I’ve been left out in the cold. Everyone knows what’s going on with you except me. I want to hear what’s new and exciting in your life.
“Tangela, our relationship wasn’t all bad and I’d like to think after dating for seven years, we could be friends. Things weren’t perfect, but you must have been happy at some point, or we wouldn’t have lasted as long as we did.”
Warrick gave her a long once-over, then slowly returned his eyes to her face. The truth was he had more than friendly feelings for her. There, he’d admitted it. He still desired her, but he wasn’t going to be stupid enough to cross the line. “You’ve always been a part of the gang and I think it would be cool if we hung out tonight. You know, for old times’ sake.”
“Well, I don’t.”
He’d need a blowtorch to melt her heart, but he wasn’t giving up. One thing he’d always loved about Tangela was how much she valued her friendships. And tonight, her sense of loyalty would work in his favor. “Look at you. You’re working up the ranks at American Airlines, you bought your first place and you’re on the cover of People magazine. That’s worth celebrating.”
Tangela felt her face warm. Blowing the air out of her mouth, she pushed a hand through her hair. Someone with a sick sense of humor must have jacked up the heat because the temperature had suddenly gone from a cool seventy degrees to a sweltering inferno.
“I just want to get to know this new side of you. This side of you that you kept hidden from me all of those years.”
Swept up in the moment, she lost her ability to speak. And when his scent enveloped her, she felt as though her feet were glued to the hardwood floor. Move! Run! Call for backup! a voice screamed inside her head. You’re not going to stand there and let him put the moves on you again, are you?
“I have no ulterior motives, Tangela. I just want my best friend back.”
He gave her something to consider. Staring up at him, her eyes probing his face, she judged the sincerity of his words. Her ex might be a lot of things, but he wasn’t a liar. Warrick gave it to you straight, a cold, hard dose of the truth served with a smile. Tangela caught herself eyeing his lips and channeled her gaze. For the first time ever, she liked who she was and what she was doing. She had her own thing going on and she didn’t need Warrick complicating her simple, stress-free life. The man might look harmless in his polo shirt and khaki shorts, but his touch was lethal and his lips honey. It was time to make a run for it. If she wanted to keep her sanity and her heart intact, she had to get far away from him. “I’m going to say goodbye to the girls. I’ll see you later.”
Warrick blocked her way. “There’s one more thing I have to say.”
There was no way out. He’d expertly pinned her against the wall between the microwave stand and the potted fern. How in God’s name did I end up here? Unnerved, she licked her lips and forced herself to remain calm. No matter what happened, she wouldn’t lose her cool. “Warrick, what are you doing?”
Her breathing came in quick, short spurts. Over time, they’d lost interest in each other and ultimately stopped having sex, but her desire for him was still there. One kiss was all it took and she’d be a bumbling, love-struck fool. “I have to go. It’s—”
“I know you think the worst of me, Tangela, but the truth is I never meant to hurt you.”
Taken by surprise, her hands dropped to her sides. You never meant to hurt me? her mind repeated dubiously. Then why did you string me along for seven years? Narrowing her eyes, she studied him for several long seconds. Warrick was a hard man to read, but he looked dead serious. He honestly and truly believed he’d done nothing wrong. Deciding she wouldn’t interrupt or argue, she listened to his impromptu speech. It sounded rehearsed, but she found herself being sucked in by the smoothness of his voice.
“If I could do things differently, I would. I’m not proud of the way I acted or the way I treated you, but we had a lot of problems in our relationship and instead of fixing things, we ignored them. The night you left was…” He paused, organized his thoughts and continued. “We both said a lot of things that we didn’t mean.”
“Speak for yourself, Warrick. I meant what I said.”
A long, awkward silence followed.
“Okay,” he conceded with a curt nod. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you and I’m sorry.”
Tangela blinked rapidly. She must have misheard him. Warrick never apologized. At least not to her. Obstinate and proud, Warrick thought he was above asking anyone else for forgiveness. “I’ll apologize when hell freezes over,” he liked to say. They’d dated for seven years, but he’d only said sorry twice. And both times, his grandmother had ordered him to.
“You were good to me, Tangela, and I’ll never forget all the thoughtful things you did for me and my family. You’re a very special woman and all I want is for you to be happy.”
Tangela’s jaw dropped. The implausible had happened. Hell had officially frozen over.
Chapter Eight
All Tangela could hear was the clock on the wall ticking. Warrick’s confession set her mind to rest and she was glad they’d finally put the past behind them. He used to be the single most important person in her life, and a big part of her still missed him. But that didn’t mean they were going to be buddies ag
ain. They weren’t.
His grin was contagious and no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t wipe the smile from her face. Warrick had apologized for hurting her, and finally after two long years, all was right with the world. She could finally stop lamenting over what could have been and focus on her future. “Warrick, I appreciate you saying that.”
Overcome by the intensity of his gaze, she stared down at her hands. Tangela often played the role of the blameless ex, but it was time she owned up to her part in their breakup. “I’m sorry, too. I should have been more understanding about the pressures you were under at work.”
“Speaking of work,” he began, his face showing disapproval, “why didn’t you tell me about the problems you were having at Flight Express? Did you think I wouldn’t understand?”
“Your dad had just had a heart attack, and I didn’t want to burden you with my troubles,” she explained. Her heart ached when she remembered the day she’d turned in her badge and uniform, but she said, “There are far more opportunities for personal and professional growth at American Airlines. I love working there, so let’s just drop it.”
Warrick stayed the course. “If I’d known what was going on, I would have been there for you. If you’d given me the chance, I would have supported you the way you’d supported me all those years. Losing your mom and your job at the same time must have been devastating.”
He didn’t ask the question outright, but Tangela knew what he was getting at. “It was an incredibly difficult time in my life, but that’s not what drove me to move out. Warrick, in loving you I lost a piece of myself, and over time I became a woman I never thought I’d be. You didn’t want to get married, and our arguments about the wedding became vicious and mean. I knew if I didn’t leave soon, things would escalate.”
