by Pamela Yaye
“I don’t want you ever to think, not even for a second, that I’d ever put my hands on you, Tangela.” He wore a sad, joyless smile. They stood face-to-face without a word, then he broke the silence. “I want to be clear about one other thing. Tangela, I never, ever cheated on you.”
Her eyes popped. Had he been talking to Sage? Tangela didn’t have time to consider the idea, because the next thing she knew, his hands were traveling down her arm. Leaning over, he bent down and kissed her gently on the forehead. Who knew a chaste kiss could evoke such pleasure? And when his mouth moved over her cheeks, then slowly swept over her lips, the nerve endings between her legs shot up.
Tangela didn’t have the strength to turn away from his touch. The truth was she craved him. Like wine. Chocolate. And sensuous lovemaking. Caressing her cheeks with the back of his fingers, he weakened her resolve. Then the unthinkable happened. Their lips came together in a passion-filled reunion. His kiss—his sweet, gentle kiss was like balm on her wounded heart and soothed away her deepest pain. Since running into Warrick at the Hawthorne party, Tangela had imagined what she’d do if he ever tried to kiss her again. Screaming seemed childish and she was too weak to fight him off, so Tangela did what any woman who hadn’t had sex in eight months did: she kissed him back!
Desire gripped her, filled her, swallowed her whole. He brought her to him; every part of their bodies connected now. His lips moved beautifully, expertly over her mouth. Tangela didn’t feel that any of this was real. They were enemies. Bitter, angry exes who couldn’t stand each other. They’d had a volatile breakup and before last month, hadn’t laid eyes on each other in two years. But when she felt his tongue inside her mouth, seeking her own, Tangela slanted her head to the right, hungry for more.
His mouth was sweet. Trapped in a web of hunger, need and lust, she ignored the conflicting thoughts spinning in her brain and took everything Warrick offered. She’d wanted him the moment he strolled into the Hawthorne party, looking buff, fit and as handsome as ever. He’d filled out the costume better than Dean Cain and she’d had a hell of a time keeping her eyes off him and on her date. Her desire for Warrick would be there until she died and when he ran his hands up the slope of her hips, she moaned. Tangela felt confident, empowered, sexy. They weren’t a couple anymore, and weren’t ever getting back together, but he still wanted her and that was an incredible feeling.
Warrick gave Tangela what she was craving. He nipped her earlobe, stroked her shoulders and told her she was beautiful. Kissing her, he buried his fingers into her hair, inhaling a lungful of her scented shampoo. A combination of light and urgent caresses, his deep, passionate kiss electrified her. She felt his erection, strong and thick, against her throbbing core. No! screamed in her head, but “Yes” spilled from her lips. The heat of his body aroused her. Every touch, every sound and every smell was magnified. He took his time kissing her, exploring her mouth with his tongue, then pausing to stare deeply into her eyes.
“I never even looked at other women,” he murmured, his warm mouth flitting over her ears. “Why would I mess around with someone else when I had perfection at home?”
Tangela came to her senses when she felt his fingers under her T-shirt. Stepping back, she covered his hands with her own, stopping him. Never again would she lose control like that. She was playing with fire and one thing she’d learned as a single woman in the twenty-first century was that she had to be honest, no matter the cost. “We shouldn’t have done that.”
“I just wanted you to know the truth.”
“And the only way to do that was by kissing me?”
His eyes twinkled. “I got a little carried away,” he confessed, with a wry shrug. “But can you blame me? You’re stunning.”
Tangela lacked the words. A little carried away? They’d been only one French kiss away from having sex on the granite countertop. In spite of the gravity of the situation, a smile broke through. Damn Warrick and his silver tongue. He had sex on the brain, and thanks to that kiss, so did she. Warrick Carver was the only man she’d ever met who could talk her into almost anything, and it had been that way from day one. Why else would she have put her dreams of marriage and motherhood on hold and moved in with him after only dating for three months? “I’m glad we finally got everything out in the open.”
“Me, too,” he said in a low, disarming voice. “I’m glad we finally talked things through.” Sage’s high-pitched laugh and Marshall’s deep chuckles floated into the kitchen.
Careful not to touch him, she stepped out from beside the microwave stand and exited the kitchen. The living room was dark but the glow from the TV prevented Tangela from tripping over the piles of unopened boxes. “What are you guys watching?”
“Tangela?” Marshall lowered the volume of the TV and turned on the side lamp. “Warrick, you’re here, too? I thought you left.”
“We were in the kitchen talking.”
Sage snorted. “Is that why Tangela’s clothes are crooked?”
“Shut up, Sage.” Staring down, Tangela inspected her wrinkled outfit. Her face flushed when she looked at the sagging neckline of her T-shirt and noticed her push-up bra was exposed. When had that happened? Combing the end of her hair with her fingers, she avoided her friend’s menacing gaze. “Are the girls still trying on clothes?”
“No, they left about fifteen minutes ago.”
“But Cashmere was my ride!”
“That’s what you get for making out in the kitchen with Warrick,” Sage grumbled. “Will the two of you be breaking in our guest room, as well?”
Ignoring the dig, she went over to the sectional sofa, picked up her purse from the floor and flipped open her cell phone. She had two messages. One was from Carmen and the other was from Marcello. Her heart sank when she heard his voice.
“What’s wrong?” Warrick asked. “Everything all right?”
His gentle smile coaxed the truth out of her. “My date canceled.”
“I can give you a lift home if you’d like.”
“That’s the least you can do after—” Sage began.
Marshall pinched Sage’s arm and she yelped.
“Warrick offered to give Tangela a ride home. Isn’t that nice, honey?”
“He’s as charitable as they come,” Sage agreed, grinding the words out between her teeth. Rubbing the sore spot on her forearm, she cut her eyes at Warrick, as if issuing a silent warning. “No funny business, you got it? Just drop her off and be on your way.”
Biting back a laugh, Tangela shook her head. Sage was acting like her mother, and if Marshall hadn’t been sitting there, she probably would have cursed Warrick out. “Aren’t you going to the club?” she asked, addressing him. “Isn’t dropping me off out of your way?”
“You’re right, it is.” His frown had a tinge of humor to it. “This is what we’ll do. Go by the club, have a drink with the gang and then go home.”
In the ensuing silence, Tangela considered his offer. Why not? Marcello was working, Carmen was at a family function and she had nothing else to do. If they were going to be alone, she wouldn’t chance it, but they’d be with their friends and there was no way Nadine would ever let them out of her sight.
Tangela stared at Sage and Marshall. Hugged up on the couch, they spoke quietly to each other, their hands clasped fiercely together. Envy formed a thick knot in Tangela’s chest. Seeing happily married couples got to her every time. This—this idyllic scene of marital bliss—was what she wanted, what she’d dreamed of her entire life. And Tangela was determined to have it all. A fantastic career, a loving husband and kids cute enough to model.
Taking Warrick up on his offer was a good idea, she decided, eyeing the starry-eyed newlyweds. It was the couple’s first night in their new home and she didn’t feel right asking Sage to drive her across town. “Warrick, look at me,” she said, glancing down at her dirty clothes. “I’m not exactly dressed for the club.”
“It’s impossible for you to look anything but beautiful.”
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Head inclined to the right, she concealed a smile. “Been watching The Bachelor, huh?”
He chuckled. “I’m sure Sage can lend you something to wear.”
Throwing her hands up in the air, a crazed, wild-eyed expression on her face, Sage surged to her feet. “Oh, sure, why not? Everyone else is helping themselves. Just take a number!” Grumbling to herself, she marched across the room and stomped up the winding staircase. “At this rate I’ll have nothing to unpack into my new Louis Vuitton dresser!”
Decked out in framed mirrors, crimson walls and mood lighting, Bar 890 exuded a fresh, hip vibe that appealed to the over-thirty crowd. The bar was heavy on style, and the wraparound terrace offered a stunning, 180-degree view of the Las Vegas Strip. Home of the Hollywood elite, the sophisticated nightspot was the place to be on a Saturday night.
Champagne flowed, women danced in clusters and business deals were made over pan-fried sirloin steak and fifty-year-old bottles of wine. Worried he might lose Tangela in the crowd, Warrick slipped an arm around her waist. When she glanced over her shoulder and favored him with one of her wide smiles, he closed the gap between them. He quickly scanned the terrace for their friends, but didn’t see them. “Let’s just grab one of those empty tables,” he suggested, steering her toward the far wall. “We’ll catch up with the group later.”
“There’s DeAndre!” Tangela said, pointing at the DJ booth. “The others have to be around here somewhere. Let’s keep looking.”
“Yeah, let’s,” he grumbled. Warrick didn’t want to share Tangela tonight. He’d hoped they could spend some more time together—alone. Not because he wanted to kiss her again, but because he…he…Who was he fooling? Of course he wanted to kiss her again! Tangela had put it on him and like a single man at the Playboy mansion, he was hungry for more.
On the drive over, he’d had a hell of a time keeping his eyes off Tangela and on the road. When she’d returned to the living room in a flirty, head-turning number, he’d been too surprised to speak. The printed halter dress highlighted her feminine curves and the bright amethyst necklace and bracelets completed her sultry look.
They’d chatted about music and business, but it was the stories about her most lively passengers that cracked him up. There was the young record producer who mutilated the English language every time he spoke, the mother who insisted on breast-feeding her second-grader at her first-class seat and the seniors who got busted having sex in the lavatory. But amid all the laughter and joking, he’d felt an ache in his heart for the woman he’d stupidly let get away. He’d dated some over the years, but he enjoyed how easy it was to being with her. With Tangela, he didn’t have to fake interest or break his back trying to impress her.
“There’s Nadine, Quinten and Jonas!” Waving, Tangela hustled through the mass of partygoers and greeted their friends with hugs. “We’ve been searching all over for you guys!”
“Hey, bro.” Quinten pushed a beer bottle into Warrick’s hand. “I called your cell. When you didn’t answer, I thought maybe you’d changed your mind about coming.”
“Tangela couldn’t decide what to wear,” he explained. “You know how long it takes her to get dressed.”
“Yeah, about that, why’s she here?” Jonas stared at the women, who were admiring each other’s shoes and shrieking every two seconds. “I didn’t expect you guys to show up together.”
Warrick frowned. “I gave her a ride. What’s the big deal?”
“You’re not going to be able to cut loose with her around,” Quinten explained.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
Jonas wasn’t convinced. “Do I have to remind you what happened the last time we were here? Tangela flipped out when you started dancing with that MTV vee-jay.”
“That’s nothing,” Quinten said, his face pinched tight. “Remember when she stormed into Leon’s bachelor party looking for you?”
Warrick chuckled. “Just my luck. Tangela walks in just as the dancers are starting their routine.” A grin on his face, he shook his head ruefully. “I never did get that lap dance!”
Chuckling, he cast his eyes slowly around the crowded terrace. Drawn by the sound of her laugh, he turned around in time to see Tangela on the dance floor, waving her hands in the air and rocking her hips in time with the music. He remembered how good it had felt to hold her in Sage and Marshall’s kitchen.
“There’s plenty of hot chicks here,” Quinten told him, gesturing toward the dance floor with his hands. “Check out the honey at the bar in the fishnet stockings. She’s hot!”
Peeling his eyes away from Tangela, he redirected his gaze to the circular bar. His eyes skipped over the brunette and landed on the greasy-haired man pawing her. Marc. In a flashy red suit and collarless off-white shirt, he was hard to miss. Warrick didn’t know who Tangela’s late-night rendezvous was with, but after overhearing her conversation with her girlfriends that afternoon, he’d bet the mystery man was Marc. Warrick didn’t want to see Tangela with the slick-talking pediatrician, but he didn’t want her to get hurt, either. Or worse, going berserk like Cashmere. The woman Marc was groping looked like a Flavor of Love contestant, but if Tangela saw them, she’d lose it, Terminator-style.
Without thinking, he shouldered his way through the crowd, and reached Tangela in five seconds flat. Obscuring her view of the bar, he rested a hand on her back. “Guess who’s eating in the VIP lounge?” he announced. “It’s one of your favorite actors.”
Her eyes shone. “Rick Fox?”
Warrick nodded and she squealed. Tangela didn’t know anything about basketball, but once the three-time NBA champion had joined The Game, she’d become his biggest fan.
“You have to show me where he is! Oh my God! Wait until I tell Nadine and Cashmere!”
She did, and seconds later, Warrick was ushering Tangela and her girlfriends into one of the wide glass elevators.
Chapter Nine
“Enough about my messed-up love life,” Tangela said, once Warrick slid into the driver’s seat of his sleek black sports car and clicked on his seat belt. On the walk from Bar 890 to the parking garage, he’d asked about the guys she was dating, and now she was flipping the tables on him. “Are you still dating that Alexis girl?”
“No, she just accompanied me to the Hawthorne party.”
“Oh.” Turning toward the window so he wouldn’t see the smile stuck to her lips, she watched people spill out onto the strip from clubs, restaurants and casinos. “I wish dating wasn’t so stressful. Hollywood makes it look so easy!”
“Maybe you just haven’t met the right guy.” His voice was low, charged with feeling and emotion. “You’ll know when you do. You’ll share an intense, immediate connection, stronger than anything you’ve ever experienced before.”
His lascivious gaze fell across her face. Tangela cleared her throat. Pulse soaring, hands trembling, she tried not to let her anxiety show. His lips looked so damn good. He had a soft mouth, strong hands and every time he kissed her, her legs wobbled. Desperate to refocus her thoughts, she stared out the windshield. It was so hot in the car, the windows had fogged up. “We’d better get going. Someone might think we’re fooling around in here and call the police.”
“That wouldn’t be so bad,” he joked, starting the engine. “My stocks would go way up! You know what they say, no press is bad press.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Sisters from all across the country would be flocking to Las Vegas to meet the single, illustrious son of Jacob Carver.”
“I don’t need a troop of women,” he confessed. “Just one.”
Shivering, she inched toward the passenger door. Warrick had given her his sports coat as they left the club, and as she pulled it tighter around her shoulders, he slipped an arm along her seat. Tangela raised an eyebrow. Her ex-boyfriend boggled her mind. Inquisitive and incredibly discerning, he could read her thoughts without her ever saying a word. They’d been sexually, emotionally and spiritually connected, b
ut he’d refused to marry her. So, why was he making eyes at her now? He was trouble, and if she wasn’t careful, she’d get sucked in by his hearty laugh, that boyish smirk and his rich, invigorating scent. Caution had to be the order of the day when he was around. “Have you dated a lot?”
“I don’t have much free time.” The truth was, he’d tasted the singles’ scene and hated everything about it. He was a relationship type of guy and had quickly grown bored taking out a different woman every night. When Tangela left, there’d been an enormous gap in his life and it didn’t matter how many attractive females he met, the hole in his heart remained.
“What’s the quickest way to get to your place?” he asked.
“Head west on the I-15, then merge onto Frontage Road and hang a left on…”
Warrick glanced over at Tangela and wish he hadn’t. She ran a hand through her thick, silky hair, and his thoughts ran wild. To refocus, he flipped on the stereo and hit Play on disc one. The smooth, languid voice of Jon B flowed into the convertible as they cruised down the narrow downtown streets. Tapping his fingers in beat to the catchy, midtempo song, he made a sharp turn at the next intersection.
“I can’t believe you still listen to this CD,” Tangela said, staring over at him. “This song takes me way back. God, I haven’t listened to Jon B in ages.”
“You know what this song reminds me of?”
Tangela’s hand shot up. “Don’t even think about bringing up that god-awful camping trip to Meadow Valley.” Her voice was stern, but he saw laughter in her eyes. “I’m warning you,” she threatened. “I have Mace in my purse!”
Chuckling good-naturedly, he effortlessly shifted gears. “To this day, every time I unfold that tent, I smell that hideous stench. I think you should pay to replace it.”
“It’s not my fault that skunk sprayed you.” Wearing a cheeky smile, she quipped, “I told you to put the chicken in the cooler, but you wouldn’t listen. Serves you right.”