office unannounced, bombarding him with wedding checklists and seating plans. Things got so bad, Warrick moved into the spare bedroom to escape her constant nagging and resorted to picking fights with her just to get out of the house.
As he reflected on their past, Quinten’s words came back to him. She doesn’t want you…she’s moved on and you should, too. As that conversation replayed in his head, he shifted his attention to her date. Leonard Butkiss had a face only a mother could love. Wide eyes, large ears and a slightly crooked nose. Warrick didn’t know anything about the guy, but Tangela deserved to be with someone strong and athletic and rich. Like him.
Giving his head a shake, he turned away from the thought. Then, like a scene out of a romantic movie, their eyes connected from across the room. Seconds passed. Then minutes. Their connection was so intense, so commanding, the fine hairs on the back of his neck shot up. Time stopped and everything he’d ever felt for her came rushing back. Love, desire, passion. His heart burned for her, and he wanted to draw her into his arms. When Tangela abruptly turned away, Warrick realized that Quinten was right. A man of his stature shouldn’t be pining over anyone, not even his first love.
Warrick channeled his gaze. No more ogling Tangela. Or thinking about how utterly captivating she was. There were plenty of good-looking women at the party. Women who’d love to be with someone wealthy. Wasn’t that what every sister wanted? A successful, affluent man who’d shower them with the finer things in life? Determined to have a good time, he chugged the rest of his drink and searched for his date.
Spotting Alexis, who must have come upstairs after he did, at the bar, he grabbed her around the waist. He didn’t have fancy footwork like Chris Brown, but he didn’t let that stop him from moving to the music. They rocked in perfect rhythm and when Warrick saw the curious expression on Tangela’s face, he broke into a knowing grin.
“Is the plumber good in bed?”
Tangela laughed out loud. Being outside on the deck provided privacy, fresh air and a panoramic view of the city. Stars gathered beside the moon and the warm breeze shook the palm trees shielding the expansive estate. “What kind of question is that?”
“The guy’s no hunk, so there must be another reason why you’re dating him,” Rachael continued, adjusting her golden-blond Tina Turner wig. “Well?”
“We’re not sleeping together.”
“It’s the nose hair, isn’t it?”
“I’m taking my time, Rachael. This is only our second date, and like I told you before, I’m keeping my options open.” Staring through the kitchen window, she searched the room for her date. Her gaze fell on Warrick and she sucked in a breath. Her ex was as straitlaced as a brother could be. He had no earrings, no tattoos and the only time he cursed was when his beloved baseball team was losing. Tangela had always been attracted to smart guys and Warrick Carver was a brain. Though he was studious-looking and serious, there was no denying it: the architect pulsed with sexual energy. His biceps filled out the superhero costume nicely and the cape flowing freely around his shoulders drew her attention to his chest.
The man made her mouth water. And despite herself, she felt a rush of excitement when he glanced her way. Images of their last vacation scrolled through her mind. Swimming with the dolphins. Making love in the Jacuzzi. Frolicking on the beach. Tangela shuddered and pushed away the memories. She wouldn’t go there. Not today. Not ever. This wasn’t an episode of The Young and the Restless. This was real life. Her life. And she’d never allow her attraction to Warrick to cloud her judgment again.
Unable to pull her eyes away, she watched him for several moments, all the blood in her head rushing to her core, leaving her nursing an unquenchable longing. Feeling weak, she swayed slightly to the right. Tangela reached out and gripped the table beside her. She had to stop doing that. Yeah, he had a strong, hard body, but that didn’t mean she should faint. Her goal was to find Mr. Right, get married by her thirtieth birthday and relocate to New Orleans. Lusting over her ex-boyfriend wasn’t going to change the facts, and she’d wasted enough time pondering what could have been.
“Are you still seeing the dentist?”
Tangela nodded. “Uh-huh, we’re going rock-climbing this weekend.”
“You weren’t kidding when you said you were on a mission,” Rachael said, winking.
Laughing, she revisited the conversation they’d had months earlier. One afternoon while shopping at Boulevard Mall, Tangela had confessed that she was on a mission to find a husband. To improve her chances of making a love connection, she’d joined a dating agency and posted an online ad, but after six months, she was no closer to finding Mr. Right than a single woman at a gay pride parade.
“You’re dating so many different guys. Isn’t it hard to keep them all straight?”
“Not really.” Tangela enjoyed meeting new people, but every time she went out with a guy, she couldn’t help comparing him to Warrick. It felt wrong, tainted, cruel, but the more she tried to censor her thoughts, the stronger they were. Her last date had been drinks at a smoky jazz café. Warrick had taken her on a hot-air-balloon ride for their first date. A personal trainer took her hiking May long weekend. Three years earlier, Warrick had whisked her away on a Mediterranean cruise. Most of the guys she’d met through the agency were beer-and-corn-chips type of guys, while Warrick was caviar and Dom Pérignon, and there was just no getting around it. “So,” Tangela began, keeping her tone light. “Warrick’s seeing someone, too.”
“Not that I know of.”
She gestured to the window. “Who’s the girl in the mermaid costume?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. I’ve never seen her before.”
Tangela didn’t know why, but she felt a perverse satisfaction knowing Warrick was still single. But any joy she felt dissolved when Warrick caught her staring. And just when Tangela thought things couldn’t get any worse, he ended the conversation he was having with a man in a skeleton costume and made his way toward her.
Glancing around for an escape route, or at the very least, something to hide under, she stepped back and bumped into a potted plant. His cologne floated on the evening breeze, inciting her sexual hunger. Without his designer suit, he could pass for a college student, and his infectious white grin made him irresistible.
Tangela heard her pulse throb in her ears. She’d grieved the loss of their relationship for months and now that she could finally see the light at the end of the tunnel, he was back. Literally. Before Tangela could get hold of herself, he was there. Wearing his characteristic smile, smelling delicious, acting as though they didn’t have a long tempestuous past behind them.
“Ladies.” The tension was suffocating, but instead of breaking eye contact with Tangela, he closed the distance between them. It should be a felony to look that good. That hot. That sexy. That erotic. “You guys are definitely going to win the award for best costume.”
“We know!” Rachael quipped, giggling. “Are you having a good time?”
“Of course. Great company. Good food.” He stared at Tangela. “Nice view.”
Then to her surprise, he leaned over and planted a kiss on her cheek. Under her mask, sweat pooled on her forehead like minuscule worry beads. It felt as if the temperature had soared to a thousand degrees. Expelling a breath, she rubbed a hand across her forehead. She didn’t know if it was the humidity or Warrick’s kiss, but her head was spinning like clothes in a dryer.
