Love on the Rocks

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Wanting to confirm his hunch, he stepped into the lounge. Tangela’s look was a slam-dunk. The white belted shirtdress was tight in all the right places and unlike all the other sisters in the restaurant she didn’t look as though she’d spent hours getting dressed.

Relieved to see a petite woman join them, Warrick felt the tension flowing through his body recede. He was in the middle of the room obstructing the flow of traffic and other patrons were eyeing him curiously, but Warrick didn’t move. Dazzled by Tangela’s stylish ensemble, he watched as she sat down at one of the round tables and crossed her long brown legs. Warrick swallowed the lump in his throat. At the Hawthorne party Tangela had been a seductive temptress, but tonight she looked more like her old self. The golden tones in her auburn hair made her eyes sparkle and a smile sat beautifully on her rosy lips.

Warrick didn’t know how he got across the room, but he pulled up to their table and stood there, studying her. He waited impatiently for Tangela to acknowledge him, but when she didn’t, he said, “Twice in one month. This has got to be some sort of record.”

Tangela spun around, her smile frozen in place. “What are you doing here, Warrick?”

“Entertaining a client.”

Surprise splashed across Mr. Kewasi’s face. “You know these two beauties?”

“Yes. Tangela and I used to date.”

“A long, long time ago,” she added, shifting in her chair.

The businessman gestured to the chair beside him. “Sit down, Warrick. I’m buying these lovely ladies dinner. Carmen was just telling me how stressful her job is.”

“Stressful?” Warrick started to make a joke, but thought better of it. The last thing he wanted to do was antagonize his ex-girlfriend and her friend. They were being nice to his client and that was a very good thing. “The pay’s not the greatest, but I bet you’ve been to some amazing places,” he said instead.

“I have, but being a flight attendant isn’t a walk in the park. There are days when I’m so tired I fall asleep in the shower!”

Mr. Kewasi wasn’t convinced. “But you can travel anywhere in the world and your friends and family can accompany you for just a fraction of the cost.”

“Every job has its drawbacks and being a flight attendant is no different.”

“Drawbacks? Really? Like what?” Mr. Kewasi asked, studying the brunette thoughtfully.

“For starters, there’s a common misconception that we’re waitresses. We’re not. We’re highly skilled flight specialists, equipped to deal with everything from ill passengers to operating cabin equipment and handling unexpected safety matters.”

Mr. Kewasi grinned. “No offense, ladies, but you do serve drinks.”

“Imagine this,” Tangela began, facing him. “You’re on an eight-hour flight to Paris and a few minutes after takeoff, you start to have trouble breathing. Sweat’s dripping down your face, your hands are clammy and it feels like your heart is about to explode out of your chest.”

The businessman adjusted his collar.

“You don’t want a waitress coming to your aid, do you? No, you want a trained, proficient flight attendant to keep you from dying in your first-class seat, right, Mr. Kewasi?”

Warrick hid a crooked grin behind his menu. Tangela was as sharp as ever. She’d lost some weight, but she hadn’t lost her sense of humor. It didn’t matter that they hadn’t seen each other for two years; she was still the same saucy woman he’d fallen hard for nine years ago.

“Well put, Tangela. I’ll never disrespect flight attendants again!”

The waiter arrived, and addressed Tangela first. “What can I get you to drink?”

“An apple martini with a dash of calvados and three maraschino cherries.”

Warrick didn’t realize he’d spoken out loud until Carmen bumped his elbow with her arm. “You still remember how she likes her cocktail? Wow, I’m impressed!”

“It just slipped out,” he mumbled, hating the way the Latina woman was eyeballing him.

“So, you guys dated, huh?” Carmen began. “What happened? Did you have a roving eye? Or a little problem with recreational drugs?”

“No, of course not.”

“Well?”

Warrick tripped over his tongue. “I…she…we…”

“We fell out of love,” Tangela offered, wearing a thin smile. “We were barely out of our teens when we met and over time we changed.”

Warrick felt as though someone was pelting him in the back with golf balls. Was that what she thought? That he’d stopped loving her? He’d never heard anything more ludicrous. Just because he didn’t walk around quoting Nikki Giovanni or buy Tangela flowers every day didn’t mean he didn’t love her. He’d let his actions speak for him. Wasn’t that what women wanted? Money, gifts and jewelry? He’d kept her in designer clothes, took care of the bills and gave her money on a weekly basis. Tangela was a hopeless romantic and wanted his attention all day every day, but Warrick wasn’t going to sacrifice his career so they could stay home and cuddle.

“He was finishing his IDP training and working crazy hours.” Tangela folded and unfolded her napkin. “We stopped making time for each other, and after seven years of dating we both got a little bored.”

Her voice was light, carefree, free of spite, but he felt the sting of her words. Tangela had a great capacity for love and affection, and after a few dates he’d known she was the one. They’d grown up together and she’d been there through every trial and every success. He kept his eyes on her as she spoke, amazed that she could discuss the demise of their relationship with such detachment. Warrick was the first to admit he hadn’t been the perfect boyfriend, but he’d never imagined those words coming out of Tangela’s mouth.

“It’s hard to maintain a relationship when one person wants out.”

As if sucker punched in the gut, Warrick slumped back in his chair, shoulders bent in defeat. Clearing the cobwebs from his mind, he swallowed a curse. He considered giving his side of the story, but didn’t want to lose his temper. Tangela didn’t look at him and carried on as though he wasn’t even there. Was she putting on an act or did she really believe he’d stopped loving her? Warrick didn’t know what to think. Women were confusing and even now, at thirty-one, he didn’t understand them any better than he had at thirteen.

“Our breakup was the best thing to ever happen to me,” she admitted, laughing at nothing in particular. “I learned to stand on my own two feet and stopped looking to someone else to make me happy.”

The waiter arrived with the appetizers, putting an end to all conversation. Over king crab and wine, the group discussed movies, music and Las Vegas’s thrilling nightlife. Mr. Kewasi asked Tangela about her stint in Mexico and she talked about her host family, the vibrancy of the culture and the sweltering heat. Warrick pretended to be watching the Mariners game, but he was listening to every word. He wanted to ask Tangela if she was planning to go back to Gaudalajara, but didn’t. She was being cordial, and he didn’t want to push his luck. Stealing a glance at her, he watched as she opened her purse and took out her pink, diamond-studded cell phone. The one he’d bought her years earlier in Japan.

When it rang, her eyes lit up. He strained to hear what she was saying, and listened intently as she greeted the caller. “Buenas noches, Marcello. ¿Cómo es usted?”

Warrick broke into a sweat. Who the hell was Marcello and why was she speaking in a sultry Spanish whisper? Back in the day, they’d lain in bed long after midnight, laughing about the crazy things that happened on her flight or planning their next vacation. Now, she was on the phone with some guy, asking questions about his day and listening intently to his answers.

Infected with lust, his wanton eyes roamed over her tight, toned physique. The sound of her laughter drew his gaze back up to her face. He couldn’t believe his ex—the woman he’d planned to marry—was on the phone with another man, flaunting her single-and-available status in his face.

Thanks to his sister, he knew Tangela had shown up at the Chrisette Michele concert with some blue-eyed geek, who was so smitten with her he’d escorted her to and from the ladies’ room. He’d pressed Rachael for more details, but she’d abruptly ended their conversation.

Staring down at his hands, he used his fingers to tick off the number of guys Tangela was dating. There was Leonard Butkiss, the concert guy and now some dude named Marcello. How many more were there? For all he knew, she could be dating someone from Mexico. Or an oil tycoon from Saudi Arabia. What was Tangela up to? Personally doing her part to bridge the racial divide?

Throwing down his napkin, Warrick searched the room for their waiter. He’d had enough. Enough of her giving him the cold shoulder, enough of her speaking in hushed tones to the mystery man on the phone and enough of her superior attitude. He had a hole in his heart the size of a basketball and she was dating more guys than the Bachelorette.

Tangela said something to Carmen, then got up from the table. Warrick watched her leave. She moved with a rhythm all her own. A confident, magnetic grace that made all the blood rush to his groin. Despite their acrimonious breakup, one thing was clear: he still desired her.

“You’re right, Mr. Kewasi, the American legal system has become a joke, but there are legitimate cases where people should sue their employer. Look at what happened to Tangela.” Carmen appealed to Warrick. “Don’t you think she should have sued Flight Express for discrimination? Or at least told her story to the news media?”

Her words didn’t register. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, frowning at her. “Tangela quit her job to study in Mexico.”

“That was after they cut her hours.”

Warrick felt his blood go cold. What the hell? Tangela told him she’d scaled back on her hours so she could devote more time to planning the wedding. Angry at her for dropping by his office unannounced every day, he’d suggested she return to work. In the weeks leading to their breakup, they’d argued about the ever-increasing guest list and soaring wedding costs. And when he stumbled across a five-thousand-dollar florist bill, he’d told her to quit wasting his money. “Carmen, I want to know exactly what happened.”

“Her boss said some mumbo jumbo about her not reaching her full potential. Apparently, she wasn’t reflecting the right image and the airline wasn’t satisfied with her work.”

“What does that mean?”

“Translation? She’d gained too much weight and they wanted her out.”

“Her supervisor actually said that?”

Carmen grunted. “They’re not that stupid. The airline didn’t want a lawsuit on their hands, so they cut her hours in half.”

“Can they do that?”

“It’s their company. They can do whatever they want.” Carmen continued, “Tangela quit and moved to Mexico. It was good for her to get away for a while. She needed it.”

He filled in the rest of the story. “But she missed flying, so she returned home and applied at American Airlines.” Warrick looked up just in time to see Tangela exit the ladies’ washroom. A slim, lanky guy in a white fedora stopped her as she entered the lounge. The woman was like a magnet. Everywhere she went, men followed.

Minutes later, Tangela returned to the table, clutching a thin stack of business cards. His ex, the social butterfly. While they were dating, he’d encouraged her to get out and make friends, but Warrick had never imagined his words would come back to haunt him.

As he watched Tangela sipping her second apple martini, he considered asking her about what had happened at Flight Express. She’d never admit it, but her appearance, or rather, other people’s opinion of her, had always been a sore spot for her. He’d loved her curvy figure, and the male attrention she garnered whenever they were together. Or at least he used to.

A cell phone shrilled and Tangela reached for her purse. When she greeted the caller and rose from her seat for a second time, giggling as she strode off, Warrick stabbed a shrimp ball with his fork and plunged it into his mouth. He wasn’t going to confront Tangela about what Carmen had shared with him tonight, but this wasn’t over.

Chapter Five

Warrick doused his face with water. The ice-cold liquid coursed down his cheeks like rain, cooling his overheated body. Returning it to the cup holder, he increased the speed on the treadmill and jogged to the beat of the song playing. At 6:00 a.m. on a Friday morning, the gym was practically empty. Four junior draftsmen lifted weights, three female clerks did sit-ups and Payton was on an exercise bike, reading a women’s magazine.

He ran with grace, fluidity, like a long-distance runner on a wide-open track. He was in a zone, a sphere, a place free of stress, deadlines and difficult clients. A row of exercise machines stood in front of the window providing runners a clear view of the pink-orange horizon. The clouds were piled onto each other like a stack of buttermilk pancakes. Warrick licked his lips. After he finished his workout, he’d stop in at Guido’s for breakfast. He had a long day ahead of him and needed to eat while he still had the chance.

A plane glided across the sky. An American Airlines plane. Even from miles away, he recognized the distinctive logo on its wings. Before he could guard against it, an image of Tangela surfaced. It was the first time since running into her at SushiSamba that he’d allowed himself to think about her. Every time she’d interrupted his thoughts or sneaked into his dreams, he’d resisted her. But he couldn’t run forever.

Sweat dripped from his chin. He felt good. Strong, powerful, resilient. Then Tangela’s words came back to him, blaring in his head. We fell out of love…we…we…we… Warrick gripped the sides of the machine. He still couldn’t believe Tangela had said that. She’d been polite at the Hawthorne party and had even chatted with Alexis. Warrick had been stunned to learn that Tangela hadn’t revealed her true identity. Was that what things had come to? Avoiding each other and lying about their past? He was even more confused by her behavior at SushiSamba, but more than anything, he wanted to know when she’d stopped loving him.

Running full-tilt, he thought about his plans for the weekend. He’d planned to catch up on sleep, but when Marshall had called and requested his help moving into his new Lake Las Vegas home, he’d said yes. And thanks to his buddy, he knew that Tangela would be there, too.

The timer beeped, cuing Warrick that his hour was up. In thirty minutes, he was showered, changed and dressed to impress in a three-piece charcoal suit. On his way up to his office, he went to Guido’s and ordered pastries for his staff. As he was leaving, he spotted Dr. Marc Solomon sauntering toward him.

“Carver, it’s been a while. How are you doing, man?”

Warrick didn’t answer. The pediatrician was full of himself, but according to his female employees, Dr. Marc Solomon was the best thing since fat-free ice cream. Warrick didn’t see what the appeal was, but some women liked pretty-boy types and Marc Solomon looked like the Latin version of Brad Pitt.

“Did you get your car fixed yet?” Marc asked, wearing an innocent smile.

Warrick’s jaw tightened. Last month, Marc had scratched his Aston Martin DBS, but when the repair bill arrived, had refused to pay. The damage was minuscule, but a dent on a luxury sports car was a very serious matter—at least to him. “I took care of it.”

“Next time, don’t park so close to my truck,” Marc advised.

“I’m late for a meeting. See you around,” Warrick said, stepping past Marc, almost knocking him down as he strolled through the restaurant doors.

“I ran into Tangela at the mall a few weeks back.” Marc sneered.

Warrick stopped. Marc had whetted his curiosity and despite himself, he wanted to hear more. “And? So what?”

“Back when the two of you were dating, I thought she was all right for a chubby girl, but now she’s a babe.” Pushing a hand through his dark wavy hair, Marc licked his lips lasciviously. “We exchanged numbers. We’re going out tomorrow night.”

Cautioning himself to remain cool, Warrick turned around and faced the arrogant physician. The idea of Tangela with the slick-talking creep was sickening, but he didn’t let his disgust show. “We’re not together anymore. I don’t care what she does.”

“Good. I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t stepping on your toes.” Marc flipped open his cell phone and when he realized Warrick was still there, smirked. “Don’t worry, Carter,” he chided. “I’m not trying to steal your girl.”

Warrick sighed inwardly.

“I just want to bang her.”

He reached out to snatch Marc up by the collar, but reason seeped in. Now wasn’t the time and the Truman Enterprises building was certainly not the place. Later, when there were less witnesses and no one to intervene for the good doctor, he’d teach the jerk a lesson. “Hurt Tangela and you’ll have me to deal with.” His voice rose slightly, drawing the attention of the customers in the waiting area. “And this time, I won’t let you off the hook, pretty boy.”

Marc held up his palms. “Relax, tough guy. I’m a lover, not a fighter.”

A woman wearing heavy eye makeup approached. “Hi, Marcello,” she purred, sticking out her chest. “Have you eaten already?” “No, mi amore, I was waiting for you.”

Warrick frowned. “Marcello?”

“The ladies find it sexy, and I like to give the ladies what they want.” Grinning from ear to ear, he slipped an arm around his date’s shoulder and disappeared into the restaurant.

Scratching his head, Warrick tried to remember where he’d heard that name before. Inside the elevator, it came to him. The other night at SushiSamba, Tangela had spent twenty minutes on the phone with some guy named Marcello. Marc was posing as a gentleman and by the looks of things it was working.

Flying down the hall toward his office, Warrick decided he couldn’t wait until tomorrow to speak to Tangela. He’d call her, order her to stop seeing Marcello and if that didn’t work, he’d have to take matters into his own hands.

“That concludes the agenda for today.” Arms folded, Warrick sat down on the edge of the square glass table. “Does anyone have anything else they wish to add?”

His gaze circled the room, and when no one answered, he ended the meeting. “All right, everyone. That’s it. Have a good day.” He turned to one of the junior draftsmen. “Can you have the preliminary designs for the Mega Mall Tokyo site on my desk by noon?”

The man nodded. “Sure thing, boss.”

As his employees packed up and filed out of the room, he caught sight of his dad in the reception area, chatting with the Human Resources manager. Warrick’s shoulders sagged. Normally, he loved seeing his dad, especially when he had a problem and needed his ear, but this wasn’t one of those times. He had a deadline to meet, a business lunch with a prospective client and a stubborn ex-girlfriend to deal with. Tangela hadn’t returned his call. There was a good chance she was out of town, but he knew she checked her voice mail regularly. He was trying to save her from Marcello-the-Latin-playboy, but she obviously didn’t want to hear what he had to say. Fine, he decided, shrugging on his suit jacket. If she wanted to be another notch on the good doctor’s belt, then he wouldn’t intervene.

Why was he sweating her, anyway? She might be a beauty, but she wasn’t the right woman for him. At least not anymore. It wasn’t until their breakup that he’d realized how heartless Tangela could be. She didn’t even have the decency to leave him a Dear John note or send him a crummy text message to break up with him, she just up and left like a thief in the night. Never to be seen or heard from again. She’d left the country without giving him a second thought, and he’d never forgive her for that.

Warrick pushed himself to his feet. Remembering he needed Payton to make copies of the Mega Mall Tokyo design, he popped open his briefcase and retrieved the file. At the bottom of his attaché case, underneath his sketch pad, was the November issue of People magazine. Taking it up, he noted Tangela’s blinding smile and her firm, mile-long legs.

Full of longing and regret, he thought back to the night they’d made love for the very first time. Caught up in a sexual trance, Warrick didn’t hear the phone buzz or the whirl of voices outside the conference-room door. His eyelids grew heavy and his eyes closed, taking him back to that sweltering August night. Inside his master bedroom, they’d kissed and groped each other, more desperate than they’d ever been before. Resplendent in a white lace gown, Tangela had stretched out on the bed, waiting for him, hungry for him, begging him to join her. At ease with herself and her body, she’d pulled the flimsy material over her head and giggled when it sailed to the floor. When he’d stretched out on top of her, her perfume had surrounded him, subduing him with its enticing sent. Rolling her hips as though she was spinning a hoola hoop, she’d clamped her legs around his waist and ridden him so hard he’d seen the sun, the moon and the stars.