Читать книгу Love on the Rocks - Pamela Yaye - Страница 10

Warrick Carver strode off the elevator onto the twentieth floor of Truman Enterprises. He radiated success, and his brisk gait suggested he was a man of purpose. Walking tall, he pushed open the glass door, nodding to the robust security guard keeping watch over the suites of luxury offices. Polished-looking in a wool suit and an azure tie, he approached the reception area, wearing a wide smile that crippled every woman within a one-mile radius.

Energized by the pungent aroma of Colombian coffee, he mentally reviewed his morning schedule. A budget meeting, a visit to one of the construction sites and an afternoon conference call to Japan. His head throbbed just thinking about it.

Peals of girlish laughter punctured the air. His personal assistant, Payton Ellis, and three female associates were gathered around her desk in a tight circle clucking like a band of chickens. Warrick couldn’t see what they were looking at, but it incited nods, murmurs and shrieks of delight. On any other day, he’d overlook their impromptu coffee break and make a beeline for his office, but the Human Resources manager was due any minute, and he didn’t want the overbearing warlord to catch anyone slacking off.

“Back to work, ladies.” No sense antagonizing his employees, he decided, keeping his tone light. “You can finish up your discussion at lunch.”

“Guess who’s on the cover of People magazine?” Payton asked, wearing a cheeky grin.

Shrugging nonchalantly, Warrick joked, “I don’t know. J-Lo and the twins?” Celebrity gossip didn’t interest him, but Payton made it her business to know what was happening in the lives of the rich and famous. It didn’t matter how many times he told her he didn’t care where Bono ate lunch or who Naomi Campbell had bitch-slapped, she chattered incessantly about her favorite stars as if they were her closest friends.

“You’ll never guess who it is.” Before he could even begin to think of an answer, she screamed, “It’s Tangela!”

“My Tangela?” Warrick didn’t catch his mistake until he noticed the amused expressions on the women’s faces. Coughing to hide his discomfort, he helped himself to a disposable cup and filled it with water from the cooler positioned against the wall. “Isn’t that something?” His smile was superficial. No teeth, no shine, no light. “Good for her. That’s great.”

“I’d say. She’s lost almost eighty pounds!”

“What!” Water sloshed over his cup and splashed onto the tiled floor. “That’s impossible. Tangela was never fat, she was thick and curvy and…” Images of her supple breasts, wide hips and mile-long legs flashed in his mind, derailing his thoughts. “It can’t be,” he managed, coming to. “Maybe the woman just looks like Tangela.”

Payton grunted. “You guys dated for seven years. I know what she looks like.”

Warrick considered her words. He wasn’t questioning his assistant’s intelligence, but he knew his ex-girlfriend wasn’t on the cover of some cheap tabloid. Losing eighty pounds in two years was an impossible feat. No way she’d subject herself to a strict, point-counting diet. Tangela loved food. Buying it, cooking it, eating it. Despite what health gurus and nutritionists said, she wasn’t addicted to food and would tell friends and family, “I’m not an emotional eater. I just love fried chicken!”

It’s not her, he decided, convinced his assistant had downed one too many mojitos last night during happy hour. Besides, Tangela didn’t need to lose weight. Not a single pound. She was perfect from the top of her pretty little head to the bottom of her dainty size-seven feet. “There’s no way she’d go on one of those extreme diets or—”

“Oh, it’s her, all right. But don’t take my word for it,” she said, dangling the magazine in front of his face. “See for yourself.”

Holy shit! Eyes bright, jaw slack, Warrick stared mutely at his ex-girlfriend’s image. Blood stopped flowing to his brain and he felt as though his mouth was packed with salt. A harsh acerbic foam coated his tongue. He’d hoped she’d gained weight, gotten her nose pierced—which he’d been firmly against—or chopped off her hair. But she hadn’t. Not only was she a shadow of her former self, she’d grown her hair long, wore natural-looking makeup and had milky-white teeth. Warrick didn’t think it was possible, but Tangela was even more striking.

“I’d kill to look like that,” one of the women announced.

“I think she’s too thin,” criticized another. “Tangela’s always been pretty—she didn’t need to lose all that weight.”

Warrick agreed. Two years ago, Tangela had been curvy and voluptuous, like his favorite American Idol, Jennifer Hudson, and now she was a stick figure. Since he could remember, he’d always had a thing for “healthy” women. Broomstick-thin types who graced movie screens and magazine covers didn’t impress him. He appreciated an athletic physique as much as the next man, but he loved hips and thighs and butt and his ex-fiancée used to have it all.

Dropping his empty cup in the wastebasket, he leaned against his desk for support. Colors and images and objects collided in his brain and his chest inflated as though he was holding his breath underwater. With much difficulty, he focused his eyes on the cover. The words Amazing Weight-Loss Stories were splashed across the page in thick bold letters and Tangela stood proudly in a skimpy, lime-green bikini. We dated for seven years and I never saw her in anything but a boring one-piece! Her smile was bold, suggesting a wild, playful side and stirred repressed memories in him. Emotions he didn’t have a name for rose to the surface at the mere sight of her.

Senses sharper than a comic-book character, he examined the People magazine cover in acute detail. Everything about Tangela was gorgeous. The ultrastraight auburn hair, the shiny lipstick, the hoop earrings. Hands propped audaciously on her hips, shoulders thrown back, chin tilted in supreme confidence, she radiated an inner beauty that literally took his breath away. Warrick didn’t need to peek inside Tangela’s head to know what she was thinking. Her eyes shone with mischief, her cleavage was blinding and he’d never seen her skin look more vibrant. Tangela knew she was hot and she wanted the world to know. “I think she’s…I mean…” He trailed off. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Doesn’t she look incredible?” Payton watched him intently for several seconds. “I already finished reading the article. Go on,” she ordered, “take it.”

Warrick stepped back. “I can’t. I have work to do.” As he turned away, he made a point of saying, “And so do you.”

At five o’clock that afternoon, Warrick emerged from the conference room feeling tired and spent. Preoccupied in his thoughts, he continued down the hall, reviewing in his mind the conversation he’d had with the group of Japanese investors. As he passed his assistant’s desk, he noticed the People magazine sitting on a stack of manila files. No longer safely tucked away in the side drawer with the other tabloids, it sat on the middle of Payton’s desk, mocking him, teasing him, a painful reminder of the woman he’d loved and lost.

Glancing around, he flipped it open and scanned the table of contents. “Amazing Weight-Loss Stories,” Page 87. But before he could locate the article, Payton appeared out of nowhere. “Looking for something?” she asked innocently.

“No.” Sliding his hands into his pockets, he jangled the loose coins. “I need to clear my head. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

“The Web conference went that bad, huh?”

“Worse. They’re threatening to find another firm.” He stood there quietly, a reflective expression on his face. “But I’ll think of something.”

Drumming her manicured nails on the desk, she looked carefully around the office. “Is there anything you need before I go?”

“No, I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a good night.”

“I will. Jerell’s taking me to see Lord, Why Me Again? at the Arts Center.”

“Poor guy.” He chuckled heartily. “Your husband has my deepest sympathies.”

Payton giggled. “It’s fun, the acting is great and the audience really gets into the show.”

“I bet,” he deadpanned, a miserable expression on his face. “Sorry, but it’s just not my thing. Tangela forced me to watch one on DVD and I hated it.”

“Relationships are about give and take. Jerell goes with me to the plays, and I leave him alone when he’s watching football. It’s called compromise. You—” she patted his back “—should try it sometime.”

“That’s why I’m single. I can work as much as I want without anyone getting on my case.” He made sure to add, “And that’s how I like it.”

“Sounds lonely.”

Sensing she wanted to say more, he said goodbye and strolled toward the bank of elevators. Outside, Warrick was swept up in the hustle and bustle of the Las Vegas business district. Men in tailored suits strode down Fremont Street, tourists snapped pictures of everything and nothing and evening traffic moved at a snail’s pace.

Deciding against flagging down a taxi, he pulled up the collar on his suit jacket and stepped around a group of high-school students in ghoulish face masks. If not for their costumes, he would have forgotten it was Halloween. As he passed a row of cafés and convenience stores, he caught a glimpse of Tangela. Or rather, of her picture on a stack of People magazines. Was there no escaping this woman?

His eyes narrowed. How many more times would she intrude on his thoughts today? Last he’d heard, Tangela was living in Mexico studying Spanish, something she’d always wanted to do, but never did because she hated the thought of them being apart.

Warrick grunted. Funny, she’d professed her love with more conviction than a Keyshia Cole song, but didn’t have a problem sneaking out in the middle of the night in the car he’d bought her. No, she wasn’t the loving, devoted, fiancée she’d pretended to be. Tangela had been out for herself from day one, but he’d been too stupid to realize it.

Without thinking, he stopped at a convenience store, counted out the exact change and requested a bag for his purchase. He couldn’t risk someone seeing him with the magazine. They might think he was still carrying a torch for his ex. Or worse, that he wanted her back.

An hour later, behind the privacy of his office door, Warrick stared disbelievingly at one of the November issues of People magazine. He scarcely remembered what he’d eaten at the Third Street Grill or the ten-minute walk back to his office. But now that Payton and her posse had left for the day, he could read in peace.

Appraising the cover, he emitted a low, hollow sound from the back of his throat. Tangela Howard. The small-town girl with the big heart. Raised by a drug-addicted mother, she’d relocated to Las Vegas at seventeen and worked two full-time jobs to pay for university. A year after earning a degree in employment relations, she’d applied to American Airlines in hopes of working her way up from flight attendant to operations manager. Warrick admired the way she’d coped with all the misfortunes in life and had made it his job to give Tangela her heart's desire. His efforts had all been in vain.

Warrick held the magazine so close to his face he could see her clear nail polish. This was the first day since Tangela had walked out on him that he hadn’t woken up thinking about her, and as he searched inside for the cover story, he wondered how seven years of love, companionship and earth-shaking sex could have flatlined so quickly.

Shifting on his high-backed leather chair, he released a quick, inaudible sigh. Seeing Tangela again unnerved him. Made him think about things he had no business thinking about. Like how she used to kiss him the second he came through the door. Or how she’d gently caress his face when he was nestled deep inside her.

To keep from taking another trip down memory lane, he studied her picture intently, as if she was a stranger. And she was. This woman with the slender face, toned arms and lissome shape bore no resemblance to his ex-girlfriend. Her eyes were slightly tinted at the corners and had a hint of gray. Definitely contacts, he decided, continuing his appraisal. Gone were her short, springy curls. In their place a high ponytail that grazed her bare shoulders. The ruffled halter bikini made a strong statement: she was a bold, sexy woman who was thirsty for adventure.

Warrick flipped through the magazine and stopped when he saw another full-length picture of Tangela. A small, passport-size photograph was on the corner of the page. Above the snap was the word Before. Tangela was in her navy American Airlines uniform, smiling directly into the camera. Warrick recognized the photo. He’d taken it the night she’d aced her final exam. Almost two years to that day, she’d left him.

Feelings of nostalgia assailed him, but he refused to think about what they’d done on the kitchen counter that afternoon. Face pinched in concentration, he pored over the interview as if he was studying for the Nevada bar exam.

According to the article, Tangela had lost the weight through diet, exercise and nutritional supplements. Why? circled in and out of his mind. Why would she put herself on such a stringent diet? Warrick found the answer at the end of the first paragraph.

“I didn’t set out to lose a lot of weight, but when doctors diagnosed a blood clot in my right leg, a friend sat me down and told me to get my act together. I took his words to heart and that was the beginning of my transformation. Walking, exercising, eating well…Now I’m fit and healthy and ready to begin the next chapter of my life.”

His? The word was more painful than a slap shot between the eyes. And, as if it were a real-life blow, he needed time to gather his thoughts. Tangela had a boyfriend? It had only been two years since they—correction, she—had broken off their engagement. Not enough time for him to heal, but obviously enough time for her. He continued reading, his frown growing deeper with each fatuous sentence. Warrick snorted. Emotional eating is the driving force behind weight gain. “Who wrote this crap?” he wondered aloud. “There was nothing wrong with her!” He’d dated Tangela for seven years. If she’d had a food addiction he’d know. Fast food had always been her weakness, but everyone had their vice. He liked beer, she liked cheeseburgers and for others gambling, porn or alcohol did them in. Who was this People magazine reporter to judge?

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 looked 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.