by Pamela Yaye
“Organic food?” He wrinkled his nose. “What happened to your mac and cheese, pasta salad and smothered pork chops? That’s what I want to eat.”
“If I start cooking like that again, we’ll both be signing up for Jenny Craig. And you don’t want me to put back on all that weight, do you?”
He didn’t speak for a moment. “Angie, your weight has never been a problem for me. The truth of it is, I miss your curves.” Winking, he added, “And the girls, too.”
“You don’t think I look better now? Everyone else does.”
“Well, make that everyone but me. When I saw your People magazine cover I almost passed out. I was convinced they’d airbrushed the hell out of it, until I read the article.”
Eyes lowered, she fiddled with her thumb ring. “I don’t have a problem with food, and I’ve never been ashamed of my body.”
“But the article said—”
“I know what it said. The editor took bits and pieces of my interview and spun it into a juicer story,” she explained. “I’m glad I slimmed down but I’m not going to flip out if I gain some of the weight back. Life’s too short to count calories. I want to be in good shape, but I’m not going to obsess over that stupid number on the scale.”
His arms closed around her. “You should sue them for writing that crap.”
“I know the truth and that’s all that matters. Some people think you have to be a size zero to be healthy, but there are lots of thin women with health problems. I’m going to just do me. Who cares what society says? I’m fit and fabulous no matter what size I am!”
“I heard that,” he agreed.
“Now, go wash up. Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes.”
“Is that right?” Grinning, he slipped a hand under her shirt and stroked a nipple with his finger. “I’m hungry, baby, but not for food!”
Chapter Sixteen
Filled with giddy excitement, Tangela slammed the trunk of her car and hurried into the Metropolis. Inside the elevator, she dropped her bags on the floor and rested her head against the wall. Her flight from Newark had been long and uneventful. Like a mindless robot operating on autopilot, she’d served her passengers, then cleaned the aircraft and filled out the requisite paperwork. Tangela hadn’t been to her apartment in five days, but the decision to go to Warrick’s place was a no-brainer.
Her body warmed when she thought about the plans she’d made for tonight. Warrick hadn’t said anything when they spoke earlier in the day, but she knew he had something special in store for Valentine’s Day. But he wasn’t the only one plotting and scheming. She had a sexy surprise for her man, too. Something he’d always wanted. Something she’d never been confident enough to do before. Staring down at the fuchsia Discreet Boutique bag, she imagined the look on Warrick’s face when she sashayed out of the bathroom in the skimpy nurse’s uniform.
Sailing out of the elevator onto the eighteenth floor, she calculated the time it would take her to cook dinner, shower and get dressed. Preoccupied with her thoughts, she unlocked the suite door and stumbled on a stray dress shoe lying in the middle of the foyer.
“Ugh!” she grumbled, smacking on the lights. Shocked into silence, Tangela braced herself against the wall. Plugging her nose with her thumb and index finger, she surveyed the disheveled living room. Sofa cushions were thrown about, newspapers were stacked high on the coffee table and the house smelled like garbage. Crumbs littered the carpet and sunlight illuminated the thick layer of dust on the furniture.
Tangela dropped her bags. There was no question about it. The honeymoon was definitely over. Since getting back together, Warrick had been on his best behavior. He made a conscious effort to clean up after himself and didn’t leave things lying around. Tangela had known his Molly Maid routine wasn’t going to last forever, but she hadn’t expected to come home to find the laundry basket higher than the Leaning Tower of Pisa. If he could keep his office clean, why couldn’t he make the bed or sweep the floor? Tangela wished he’d swallow his pride and hire a cleaning lady, because she was getting sick and tired of picking up after him.
The state of the kitchen was worse than the living room. Eyes narrowed, lips puckered, she waved a hand in front of her face. It smelled like…feet. Disgusted, she wheeled around and fled the room as if the garbage bin would sprout legs at any moment and chase after her.
When they were living together, she’d had no choice but to clean up after him. But now she had her own place and although the fridge was empty, it was cleaner than this. Before she could decide what to do one way or another, her cell phone rang. “Hello?”
“Welcome home, baby. How was your flight?”
“Fine.”
“Everything okay?”
“Uh-huh.”
“What’s with all the one-word answers?”
Silence infected the line.
“I don’t have ESP, Angie. I can’t fix things if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”
Feeling guilty for being short with him, she sighed deeply, and said, “How’s work?”
“I didn’t call to talk about business. I called to see how you were doing.” His voice was touched with concern and Tangela could picture him behind his enormous desk, smiling that easy, comfortable smile. “I’m glad you’re home.”
“Why, so I can clean up after you?”
“Is that why you’re angry, because the place is a little messy?”
“A little messy? It looks like a college frat house in here!”
“You’re exaggerating. It’s not that bad.” Warrick paused and spoke to someone in the room before returning to the phone. “Things have been—”
“Crazy around here,” she finished, sighing in frustration. “I know, you keep telling me.”
Tangela knew the situation with Lyndon was stressful, and she sympathized with him, but she was sick of his excuses. “Things have been crazy for me, too, but I still clean up after myself and stay on top of everything in the house.”
“I was going to clean when I got home last night, but I ended up pulling an all-nighter.”
She frowned. “That’s the second one this week.”
“The presentation in London is turning out to be more work than I thought. Actually, that’s why I’m calling. I’m working late and I don’t know when I’ll be home.”
“But it’s Valentine’s Day.”
“I’ll make it up to you once I close this deal. I promise.”
Tangela didn’t want to make an issue of it, but she was bummed that she was going to spend the most romantic day of the year alone. They hadn’t seen each other in nine days and she’d been looking forward to a nice, quiet evening with her man. No phones, no television, no distractions. But now he was canceling on her. Again. Thinking back on all the promises he’d broken in the past increased her frustration. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
“I’ll try and be home by eleven. Wait up for me, okay? I really want to see you.”
Not bothering to say goodbye, she hung up and wandered into the family room. Suddenly exhausted, she slumped down on the couch and reclined against the cushions. What was she going to do for the rest of the night? Cleaning wasn’t an option and neither was cooking. Tangela contemplated calling Sage, but remembered that Marshall had rented them a suite at the Bellagio. Maybe she’d go see a movie. Brooklyn’s Finest was playing and she still hadn’t seen it.
After checking the showtimes on the computer, she logged into her e-mail account. Remembering that Carmen was in town, she flipped open her cell phone and dialed. “I didn’t expect you to be home,” she said when Carmen answered. “What are you doing?”
“Cutting up Hugo’s favorite pair of jeans.”
“Again? Didn’t you shred his boxer shorts just last week?” Laughing, Tangela cradled the phone to her ear. Signing into TruCommunity, she wondered if any of her friends would be online. The chat rooms, which were usually buzzing with conversation, were silent. “What did he do this time? I thought you guys
were working things out.”
“It’s more like what he didn’t do. We were supposed to have dinner at Bistro 360, but he forgot to make the reservation.”
Feeling the need to vent, Tangela told her girlfriend about her conversation with Warrick. “I know he’s under a lot of pressure, but so am I. It’s hard being on my feet for hours and catering to a hundred and fifty people at any given time.”
“You know what we should do? Get dressed and take our fine-ass selves out to dinner.”
“I don’t know, Carmen. It’s Valentine’s Day. The wait time is going to be brutal tonight.”
“Do you have anything better to do?”
“Well, no,” Tangela conceded, getting up from the computer. “But I don’t want to waste the whole night waiting in line to get in somewhere.”
“Girl, trust me. I know just the place.”
“Where?”
“Don’t worry your pretty little head,” she said, giggling. “Just be ready in an hour!”
Warrick paced the length of the living-room floor. Mind racing, body fraught with tension, he swallowed the hard lump in his throat. The wall clock chimed and his head snapped up. Three o’clock. He had an early-morning meeting, but instead of reviewing the revised contracts, he was pacing like an expectant father in a hospital waiting room. If Tangela had answered her cell or returned his text messages, he wouldn’t be on edge, but not knowing where she was was infuriating.
Ever since he’d seen Tangela on the cover of People magazine, his life had been turned upside-down. Keeping his mind on his work and off his girlfriend had never been more difficult and ever since he’d spoke to Rachael yesterday, he couldn’t get her words of warning out of her head. “Lose her or commit,” she’d admonished, her voice stern. “You’re never going to find someone who loves you more than Tangela does.”
It was true. Tangela was sensitive of his needs and feelings, deeply caring and a calming presence in his life. Her drug-addicted mother had never been lucid enough to cook dinner or clean the house, but Tangela took great pride in their home. He came home to an immaculate home, a hot meal and a passionate kiss that gave him an instant erection.
No one took care of him like Tangela. When he’d awakened last Saturday with a fever, she’d fed him soup, cuddled with him in bed and read him the comics. By the end of the day, she’d nursed him back to health. Later, he’d popped in a jazz CD, dimmed the lights and when the music drifted out from the speakers, they’d danced. Swaying her body in time to the music, she very leisurely peeled off one article of clothing at a time. Her blouse was the first to go, then the skirt. He’d reclined on the couch and when she lowered herself onto his lap, he’d released a deep groan. After making love, he must have dozed off, because when he woke up the next morning, there was a blanket thrown over him and Tangela was in the kitchen whipping up breakfast.
Rachael had given him something to think about. Three weeks ago, he never would have imagined proposing so soon. He didn’t feel the need to formalize their relationship with marriage, but he wanted to prove his commitment. Tangela was the one. His love, his destiny, his life. And once he finished the project he was working on, he’d devote all his time and energy to planning the perfect proposal.
His eyes strayed to the clock—3:17 a.m. Where the hell was she? She couldn’t be with one of her old boyfriends, could she? Hell, it was Valentine’s Day. The most romantic day of the year. And since their breakup she’d dated a long list of successful men. Tangela could be with one of them. Stroking his jaw, names turning over in his mind like a Ferris wheel, he tried to break free of his raging thoughts.
Warrick stalked out of the living room. He needed a drink. A cold, stiff one. Something with forty-percent alcohol or more. No sooner had he entered the kitchen then he heard the front door open and close. Bent on confronting her, he marched down the hall, rounded the corner and slapped on the lights in the foyer. “Do you know what time it is?”
Face drenched with relief, hands pressed flat against her chest, she let out a long, deep breath. “What are you trying to do, give me a heart attack? You scared me half to death, babe.”
Eyes narrowed, he scrutinized her appearance. Tousled hair. Labored breathing. The subtle scent of men’s cologne on her skin. And there was no mistaking her exotic vibe.
“How was work?” she asked, slipping off her shoes. “Did you finish what you were—”
“Where have you been?”
“Carmen and I went to the Boa Steakhouse for dinner.”
Warrick pointed at his watch. “It closes at midnight.”
“I know. We went to Tryst after.”
“What for?”
“What do you mean, ‘what for?’ It’s a club. We danced and drank and danced some more!” Giggling, she sashayed into the kitchen. “Baby, you should have seen me. I was on fire tonight! The DJ played ‘Get Down on It’ and I had everyone up in there doing the bump.”
“I bet you did,” he grumbled.
Tangela yanked open the fridge, grabbed a bottle of mineral water and leaned against the counter. Chatting amicably about the music, and some of the people she’d met, she unzipped her jacket, dropped it on the chair and fanned a hand over her face. “I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun. Carmen and I had a blast. We got free drinks, and…”
Arms folded rigidly across his chest, Warrick noted the thinness of her clingy white dress. Where was the rest of it? The short, jagged hem drew his gaze to her legs and reminded him of something he’d once seen a contestant wear on Dancing with the Stars. Under the light, form-hugging material, he saw the visible outline of her braless breasts. “Did one of your old boyfriends meet you there? Is that why you’re coming in so late?”
“Yeah, Marcello stopped by, and oh, Leonard was there, too.” Rolling her eyes, she took another swig from her water bottle. “You were at work and I had nothing to do, so I went out. Why do you care, anyway? You were at the office all night.”
“I came home early. I thought we could have a late dinner or something.”
“Baby, if you had told me I would have waited—”
“Who’s Jamal Henderson?”
Her eyes opened wide.
“Were you guys lovers?”
“No, he’s just a friend.”
“A friend you used to date.” Warrick checked her reaction. She wasn’t fidgeting or stumbling over her words, but that didn’t mean she was telling him the truth. “How long were the two of you an item?”
“We only went on a few dates. Where is all this coming from?”
“You forgot to sign out of your e-mail again.” He forged on before she could change the subject. “Why haven’t you canceled your memberships to all those online dating sites?”
“I haven’t gotten around to it.”
“What do you mean you haven’t gotten around to it? We’ve been back together for weeks. What are you waiting for?”
“I’ll do it tomorrow.”
“Have you been seeing other guys behind my back?”
Her face crumbled. “Of course not. I would never do something like that. I’m not that kind of person, Warrick, you know that.”
Warrick snorted, the deep, guttural noise akin to that of a hedgehog. The injured sound of her voice made him rethink his argument, but in the end, his emotions won out. “I have a right to know if you’ve been seeing someone else.”
She looked both annoyed and puzzled. “Am I missing something?”
“I don’t know, you tell me.” His eyes flickered over her chest. “It’s obvious you weren’t thinking about me when you went out tonight. Look at what you’re wearing.”
Tangela glanced down at her outfit. “What’s wrong with my outfit?”
“Nothing, if you don’t mind guys mistaking you for a—”
“Don’t you dare.” Slamming her water bottle down on the counter, she glared at him with righteous indignation. “I wore this dress the night you took me dancing in New Orleans. As I recall,
you said I looked sexy but classy.”
Squinting, he scratched the middle of his head, trying to remember the night in question. Warrick didn’t recall saying that, and even if he had, that was then and this was now. It was bad enough she’d dated more guys than the Bachelorette, he didn’t want men ogling her or touching her when he wasn’t around. And her outfit said “Go on, cop a feel!” He didn’t mind when she went with her friends or coworkers for the occasional drink, but these days it was a regular occurrence. After being single for two years, Warrick liked having someone to come home to. Wanting to prove to Tangela he’d changed, he’d quit hitting the clubs and even though the guys clowned him for being “whupped,” he preferred being home with her, making love.
“My mom used to say, ‘If you don’t have anything nice to say, then keep your big mouth shut.’” Her voice climbed, cuing him that he’d hurt her feelings. “You should take her advice.”
Warrick started to speak, faltered over his words and decided not to share his thoughts. He watched her for a few moments. Truth be told, he missed the old Tangela. She used to be content hanging out at home, waiting for him to return from work, but now she had spin class, girls’ nights out and Spanish classes. In the past, he’d never really appreciated the sacrifices she’d made for him, and he missed the days when he was the most important person in her life. Now he had to compete with her career, her girlfriends and those stupid online chat rooms. Damn, he thought, where does that leave me?
“Why didn’t you answer your cell? I called twice.”
“I didn’t take it with me.”
He strained to hear her. “Why not?”
“Because it wouldn’t fit into my purse.”
“You could’ve left a note.” Feeling bad about what he’d said earlier, he took a step forward, closing the distance and bridging the emotional gap he’d caused. Losing Tangela again terrified him. No one loved him like she did, and he’d be a fool to mess up what they had going. “I didn’t know where you were and when I couldn’t get hold of you, I got worried.”
“Well, you have a funny way of showing it. When did calling someone a ho become a term of endearment?” Venting her frustration, she snatched up her bag and fished out her car keys. “Coming here was a mistake. I’m going back to my place.”