Love on the Rocks

by Pamela Yaye

  He turned, caught her gaze and for a moment they just stared. Then, the corners of his mouth slowly rose. His half smile knocked her senseless. As she studied him, images and memories and snapshots of their relationship surfaced. And when he wet his lips in a sly, seductive gesture, Tangela felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe he wasn’t as angry as she’d thought. If he was mad at her, he wouldn’t be checking her out, and he most certainly was. Excitement rushed through her. She still had a chance. Albeit a tiny one, but a chance nonetheless.

  To mask his true feelings, he was being a tough guy, but Tangela wasn’t buying it. She knew him better than anyone. He was a sweetheart. A deeply caring, affectionate man. And beyond the facade was a guy who respected women, worked tirelessly to be at the top of his field and held firm to his values. Warrick treasured her and she adored him for being patient with her.

  Heading through the community-center doors, she turned and cast a final look at Warrick. He was standing at the front of the room with the rest of the Carver clan. In her heart, she knew their love was inviolable, and it had been ridiculous to think she could pick up the pieces and move on. Fine dining, expense accounts and all the other perks that came with dating a successful architect didn’t matter to her. They had never mattered. All Tangela wanted was her man back. Warrick James Carver was her heart, her love, everything she’d ever wanted in a partner, and she was going to bring him home where he belonged.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Drowning his sorrows in Bacardi Gold rum wouldn’t eradicate Tangela from his thoughts, but the cold liquid made Warrick temporarily forget his problems. Three victims of the building collapse still remained in the hospital, but he’d had to return to Las Vegas yesterday to chair a budget meeting. Media attention had shifted to the tribulations on Wall Street and he’d sighed in relief when he pulled up to Truman Enterprises and there were no camera crews in sight.

  Seated between Quinten and DeAndre, he stared at his haggard expression in the mirror behind the elongated bar. The Hot Spot, a restaurant lounge just off the Strip, had a warm, casual charm. Slate-colored floors, mellow lights and fine wood paneling created a relaxing atmosphere to drink, eat and dance. Quinten was keeping a running commentary of the hottest women in the bar, and DeAndre was dividing his attention between one of the female bartenders and the Mariners game on the big screen.

  Warrick’s thoughts returned to New Orleans. The investigation would take up to a year to complete, but Lyndon’s business license had been suspended and he was being indicted on two counts of fraud. Warrick didn’t have to give his sworn affidavit until the end of the month, and although he wasn’t legally responsible for what Lyndon had done, he wouldn’t be able to sleep until the remaining victims were at home with their families.

  Business had cooled in recent weeks, but that was to be expected. In the past, his forward-thinking ideas had generated million-dollar contracts for his company and once this issue was resolved, he knew Maxim Designs and Architects would be back on top. But was that what he wanted? Wealth and success with no one to share it with?

  His head dipped low, he slipped off his glasses and rubbed the soreness from his eyes. Warrick wondered how Tangela was spending her thirtieth birthday. Fighting off another headache, he expelled a deep, raspy breath. How could he have lost the woman he loved not once, but twice? He’d promised himself he wouldn’t hurt her. That he’d do right by her and treat her like the queen she was. He’d done anything but.

  Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose. A picture of Tangela filled his mind. As unpretentious as a beautiful woman could be, she was sweet and nurturing, but had the heart of a lion. Defending him in front of that hostile New Orleans crowd had taken guts. Feelings of hurt and disappointment ran deep, but he’d never ever forget the sacrifices she’d made for him and his family. Where would he ever find another woman like that? Struggling to maintain control of his emotions, he pushed her image—her eyes, her smile, her luscious lips—out of his mind, only to have it return seconds later.

  Tomorrow, he’d chastise himself for drinking heavily, but right now alcohol was the perfect tonic for the predicament he was in. And anything that kept his mind off his troubles was a welcome ally. He stared down at his cell phone lying on the granite bar. For the hundredth time that day, he considered calling Tangela. He should have apologized to her at the press conference, but instead of manning up and doing the right thing, he’d scurried off to the other side of the room. Fear had gotten the best of him and now he didn’t have a ghost of a chance of getting her back.

  The Hawthorne party came to mind. The thought of Tangela marrying someone else petrified him, but that’s the road they were headed on if he didn’t make a move—pronto. Did it really matter that she’d been the one to broach the subject of marriage? No. They loved each other, so what was he waiting for? He had the ring, a rehearsed speech and a romantic venue that would steal her breath away. Now all he needed was his woman, but after screwing up again, how could he convince her he was for real this time?

  “Look at you, man,” Quinten quipped, motioning with his head to the mirror. “Shoulders hunched, bottom lip poking out. You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?”

  “No, man, I was—”

  “Liar! You have that sad, faraway look in your eyes, like you’re about to bust some suds. You’re not going to cry, are you, dog?”

  Ignoring the jab, Warrick palmed his glass and lifted it to his mouth.

  “Leave him alone,” DeAndre said, clamping a hand on Warrick’s back. “He misses his girl and ain’t nothing wrong with that.”

  “Thanks, D.”

  “Just don’t cry, man. I left the tissues in the truck!”

  His friends brayed with laughter.

  “You don’t really want some female up under you 24/7, do you?” Quinten asked, leaning over. “She’s gone, out of your life. Like I’ve said before, count yourself lucky.”

  “You’ve never been in love, so I’m not even going to waste my breath.”

  Lips curled, Quinten launched into a lengthy diatribe about his issues with black women. “They’re always trying to change somebody. I don’t need no fixin’. I’m fine just the way I am. And, Warrick, you’re my boy and all, but you’re whupped, just like Marshall and that sucker Theo.” His voice boomed, drawing the attention of a waitress passing by. “Real men don’t sulk. They dust themselves off and move on to the next honey.”

  DeAndre disagreed. “Every woman isn’t a ball breaker, Q. Look at Tangela. Not only is she a dime piece, she knows her way around the kitchen. Not like my ex-wife, Rashida. She couldn’t crack an egg and the only way I was getting any booty was if I took her shopping. No shoes, no lovin’ was her motto!”

  Warrick felt the hole in his heart widen. Tangela was a domestic goddess, a beauty and a loving, nurturing spirit all rolled into one. Able to cook, clean and entertain at a moment’s notice, she took good care of him and knew how to impress his clients. And she did this trick with her tongue that made his toes curl. But more than their sexual chemistry was the way she took care of him. When he had a problem and wanted to talk, she gave him her full attention, didn’t interrupt and offered insightful suggestions. No matter what he was going through, he could always count on Tangela to cheer him up. And to make him a good hearty meal. They shared a oneness that other couples envied. A unique heartfelt bond that could never be broken.

  Why couldn’t we have made up and had explosive sex like we had that afternoon in my office? His libidinous imagination carried him away. Back to the moment he’d heard Tangela’s footsteps in the hall. Strolling in with a turkey sandwich in one hand and a beer in the other, she’d set the food on his drawing board and turned back toward the door. Craving her touch, he’d pulled her down on his lap. For several seconds, they’d eyed each other, their breathing deep and shallow, their eyes locked in an intense gaze. Forgetting the blinds were drawn, they’d gone at it in front of the windows, like a pair of sex addicts who’d
fallen off the wagon. The possibility of being seen by his neighbors had increased his pleasure.

  “An apple martini with a dash of calvados and three maraschino cherries,” the waiter announced, placing the cocktail glass on a napkin. “Courtesy of the beauty at the end of the bar.”

  Leaning forward, Warrick glanced to the right. His tongue seemed too big for his mouth, and all he could do was stare. Tangela. Bewildered, he rubbed a hand over his face, fully expecting her to disappear. But when he looked up, she was still there. Her eyes were hotter than the searing heat of the desert, and her smile made his heart surge.

  Getting off the stool with inherent grace, she moved carefully toward the stage and climbed the steps. He could tell she was feeling confident by the sexy way she walked. Her movements had plenty of rhythm, sway and bounce. Examining her outfit, he licked his lips, nodding appreciatively. Tangela wowed in a white one-piece jumpsuit, and her pretty auburn curls kissed her bare shoulders. Copping an eyeful of her cleavage, he rubbed his damp palms over his knees. The collar of his shirt and the accompanying tie were suddenly stifling.

  Warrick wanted to stand but worried he’d trip over his feet. It wasn’t every day Tangela turned up at his favorite after-work bar looking like an erotic piece of eye candy. Feeling anxious, he wheeled around on his stool so he could have a clear view of the stage.

  “I know it isn’t karaoke night, but I’m good friends with the owner and she told me to come on up here and do my thing. So, here goes.” Her eyes found his through the sea of amused faces. “This is dedicated to Warrick, my friend, my lover, the man of my dreams.”

  Warrick gulped. He loved Tangela more than life itself, but he prayed to God that she wasn’t about to sing. She couldn’t hold a note. Not one. His mind flashed back to the last time he’d been at the bar on karaoke night. Hecklers had pitched garbage onto the stage and made the Apollo audience seem tame in comparison.

  Loosening his tie, he glanced warily around the lounge. He could see it now. Tangela would start singing and the crowd would boo like they’d never booed before. His facial muscles tightened. No one was going to humiliate his woman. He appreciated the gesture, but all that mattered was that Tangela had come to see him. Not how good her pipes were.

  Hoping to save her any embarrassment, he grabbed his coat and jumped to his feet. Warrick was only a few feet from the stage when Tangela opened her mouth and belted out the first bar of the Musiq Soulchild smash hit “Don’t Change.” Mesmerized by the gentle yearning of her voice, he stood in the middle of the lounge transfixed. When she gripped the microphone and hit the high note, he knew she was lip-synching. That was not her voice.

  Grinning, he watched the woman he loved sing smoothly, swaying seductively to the music and engaging the mostly male crowd. Everyone cheered, Warrick the loudest of all, and when their eyes locked, he made his move. He was up on the stage, pulling her into his arms, before the song finished playing. Amid cheers, whistles and applause, they reunited in a long lusty kiss, holding each other in a fierce grip.

  Mindful of their surroundings, he released his hold and led her backstage. It was dark, but the light streaming in from the lounge illuminated the twinkle in her eyes. “Angie, baby, you were amazing out there. I loved it!”

  “No, you loved that I wasn’t the one singing!”

  “What are you doing here?” he asked, gently stroking her shoulders. “It’s your birthday. You should be out somewhere celebrating with your friends.”

  “Warrick, the only person I want to be with tonight is you.”

  “Then why do you keep running away?”

  The light in her eyes went out. There was so much to say, so much to explain, she didn’t know where to begin. “One thing I vividly remember from my childhood was my parents fighting a lot. They didn’t talk, they screamed and cursed and pushed each other around. I don’t know why, but when things get heated between us, my first inclination has always been to run.

  “Warrick, that’s always been my way of coping, and I never realized the damage I was doing to our relationship every time I walked out. But, baby, I’m tired of running. I want to be with you forever. I’ve loved you from the second we met and despite everything we’ve been through I’ve never stopped.”

  Holding the back of her head in his hands, he swept his lips over her mouth. “I want the same thing, Angie. It’s not going to happen overnight, but I’m going to work at it. That includes being home in time for dinner and helping out around the house, too. We’re a team and I have to start carrying my weight.” Grinning ruefully, he winked. “Or at the very least, hire a maid.”

  Thrown off course by his response, Tangela took a moment to put her thoughts in order. She didn’t want Warrick to think she didn’t love him, but living together again was definitely out of the question. Before she could protest, he spoke.

  “I’ve never failed at anything, but marriage is one of those things you just can’t prepare for. People change, circumstances divide the most loving of couples and the first time around I didn’t think we’d make it. I was scared we were too young for a commitment of that magnitude.”

  Forcing herself to meet his gaze, she touched a hand to his cheek, hoping to convey what was in her heart through her gentle caress. They had a solid relationship built on trust, respect and love, and there was no question in her mind that they’d have a beautiful life together.

  “Before Sage and Marshall got hitched, I didn’t know anyone who was happily married,” he explained. “All of my friends and uncles were miserable and complained about how controlling their wives were. You and I had a great thing going and I didn’t want to mess that up.

  “I want to get married once, and I want it to last forever, but we’ll never work if you walk out whenever there’s a problem.” Watching her, he took her hands and held them in his. “There’s no such thing as a perfect relationship, Angie. We’re going to have ups and downs like every other couple, but if we’re open and honest about our feelings, we can survive anything.”

  Allowing his words to sink in, she nodded slowly, then spoke to his fears. “Warrick, I promise to be more understanding of the pressures you are under and give you the space you need.”

  His eyebrows were raised in a quizzical slant. “So, you’re not going to flip out when I kick it with the boys or drive up to L.A. to play golf for the weekend?”

  “Just because we’re married doesn’t mean we have to do everything together. I like hanging out with the girls, too, you know!”

  Tangela laughed. “I want a life with you, Warrick, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make us work. And from now on, what happens between us stays between us.”

  “Well, not everything. I like when you brag to your friends about how good I am in bed!”

  “I do not!” Face twisted into a frown, she poked him hard in the chest. “You’re lying.”

  “Am not. I hear you sometimes. Oohh, sister child,” he mimicked, his voice a high feminine pitch, his eyes filled with mischief, “my man put it on me last night—”

  “You little eavesdropper! What did you do, tap the phones?”

  He pointed to his temple. “I’m always a step ahead of everybody else. That’s why the company pays me the big bucks!”

  Deeply grateful that he’d given her another chance, she folded her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest. “Our friends are going to flip out when they find out we’re back together, especially Quinten.”

  “I know. That’s why we’re going to hide out at your place for the rest of the week. We’re going to be making up all night,” he announced, grinding himself against her. “Baby, this has been the longest month of my life and I need you bad.”

  His touch incited a purr. Her body trembled at the thought of them being in bed for the next twenty-four hours. “Don’t you have a presentation to get ready for or an out-of-town client to entertain at one of those girly bars?”

  “Nope.” They stared at each other for a long
moment. Lovingly stroking her shoulders, he sprinkled kisses along the slope of her neck. Hungry for her, he brushed her hair off her face and kissed her passionately, deeply, with everything he had. When he nuzzled his chin against her shoulder, she cooed.

  “Angie, I don’t care what anyone has to say about us getting back together. I love you more than anything, and nothing will ever change how I feel about you.”

  “Te quiero, Warrick. Yo no nunca parare adorarte,” she whispered, her face flushed with happiness. “I love you, baby. Heart, mind and soul.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Good evening.” The female clerk at Aspen’s Sky Hotel wore a bright smile. “It’s good to see you again, Ms. Howard. How was your flight?”

  Wonderful, since it’s the last time I’ll ever wear this flight-attendant uniform, Tangela thought. “Fine thanks.” As she signed the credit-card slip, she wondered if the Human Resources director had couriered the contracts to her apartment as promised. On Monday, she’d be starting her new job as a flight operations manager, and she still couldn’t believe that she’d been offered the executive position at the end of her interview.

  Glancing at her watch, Tangela realized she only had thirty minutes to shower and change. The crew insisted on taking her out for a celebratory dinner at her favorite seafood restaurant, and she was looking forward to hanging out with her coworkers one last time.

  “You’ve been upgraded to the deluxe king suite,” the clerk announced, handing her a white key card. “Enjoy your stay, Ms. Howard, and if there’s anything we can do to make your time at the Sky Hotel more pleasant, please don’t hesitate to…”

  Having heard the spiel before, she smiled, then turned and hurried through the plush lobby. Set in the heart of downtown Aspen, the Sky Hotel oozed with serenity and charm. Beyond the revolving door, the evening sky was bathed in a patchwork of pastel colors and the light breeze flowing in through the sliding-glass doors was cool.