Tangela didn’t have the strength to turn away from his touch. The truth was she craved him. Like wine. Like chocolate. Like sensuous lovemaking.

Caressing her cheeks with the back of his fingers, he weakened her resolve. Then, the unthinkable. 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.

Desire gripped her, filled her, swallowed her whole. His lips moved beautifully, expertly over her mouth. Tangela didn’t feel as if 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 they 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.

PAMELA YAYE

has a bachelor’s degree in Christian education and has been writing short stories since elementary school. Her love for African-American fiction and literature prompted her to actively pursue a career in writing romance. When she’s not reading or working on her latest novel, she’s watching basketball, cooking or planning her next vacation. Pamela lives in Calgary, Canada, with her handsome husband and adorable daughter.

Love on the Rocks
Pamela Yaye

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Baby Justice,

I miss you and think about you every single day.

Dear Reader,

Destiny can be delayed, but never denied….

Love is a powerful drug. It can make a sister break out in song, or cause a perfectly sane man to lose his mind. And that’s exactly what happens to Warrick Carver when he spots his ex-girlfriend, Tangela Howard, at a Las Vegas costume party. Not only has she lost weight, colored her hair and squeezed into a skintight Catwoman costume, she’s sashaying around the room on the arm of another man. So what’s a rich, successful architect to do? Scheme his way back into her life, that’s what!

I hope you enjoy Tangela and Warrick’s story in Love on the Rocks, and getting the chance to catch up with Sage and Marshall from Games of the Heart. Don’t worry, you’ll be seeing other cameos from your favorite characters in the near future. I’ve revamped my Web site, and I’m running a Valentine’s Day contest, so please come visit me at www.pamelayaye.com.

Stay tuned for my next Kimani Romance, Pleasure for Two, coming out in November 2010.

Until next time,

Pamela Yaye

Acknowledgments

I dedicate this book to all of the people I love: my darling husband, Jean-Claude, and my daughter, Aysiah. My amazing parents, Daniel and Gwendolyn Odidison. My super-cool siblings, Kenneth and Bettey Odidison. And all my friends and relatives near and far.

Love on the Rocks is my seventh Kimani Press romance novel, and I’m proud to be part of such a supportive, hardworking team. Sha-Shana Crichton and Kelli Martin continue to help me create strong, engaging stories, and I’m thankful to have two fabulous sistas in my corner. May God bless you both.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter One

Warrick Carver strode off the elevator onto the twentieth floor of Truman Enterprises. He radiated success, and his brisk gait suggested he was a man of purpose. Walking tall, he pushed open the glass door, nodding to the robust security guard keeping watch over the suites of luxury offices. Polished-looking in a wool suit and an azure tie, he approached the reception area, wearing a wide smile that crippled every woman within a one-mile radius.

Energized by the pungent aroma of Colombian coffee, he mentally reviewed his morning schedule. A budget meeting, a visit to one of the construction sites and an afternoon conference call to Japan. His head throbbed just thinking about it.

Peals of girlish laughter punctured the air. His personal assistant, Payton Ellis, and three female associates were gathered around her desk in a tight circle clucking like a band of chickens. Warrick couldn’t see what they were looking at, but it incited nods, murmurs and shrieks of delight. On any other day, he’d overlook their impromptu coffee break and make a beeline for his office, but the Human Resources manager was due any minute, and he didn’t want the overbearing warlord to catch anyone slacking off.

“Back to work, ladies.” No sense antagonizing his employees, he decided, keeping his tone light. “You can finish up your discussion at lunch.”

“Guess who’s on the cover of People magazine?” Payton asked, wearing a cheeky grin.

Shrugging nonchalantly, Warrick joked, “I don’t know. J-Lo and the twins?” Celebrity gossip didn’t interest him, but Payton made it her business to know what was happening in the lives of the rich and famous. It didn’t matter how many times he told her he didn’t care where Bono ate lunch or who Naomi Campbell had bitch-slapped, she chattered incessantly about her favorite stars as if they were her closest friends.

“You’ll never guess who it is.” Before he could even begin to think of an answer, she screamed, “It’s Tangela!”

“My Tangela?” Warrick didn’t catch his mistake until he noticed the amused expressions on the women’s faces. Coughing to hide his discomfort, he helped himself to a disposable cup and filled it with water from the cooler positioned against the wall. “Isn’t that something?” His smile was superficial. No teeth, no shine, no light. “Good for her. That’s great.”

“I’d say. She’s lost almost eighty pounds!”

“What!” Water sloshed over his cup and splashed onto the tiled floor. “That’s impossible. Tangela was never fat, she was thick and curvy and…” Images of her supple breasts, wide hips and mile-long legs flashed in his mind, derailing his thoughts. “It can’t be,” he managed, coming to. “Maybe the woman just looks like Tangela.”

Payton grunted. “You guys dated for seven years. I know what she looks like.”

Warrick considered her words. He wasn’t questioning his assistant’s intelligence, but he knew his ex-girlfriend wasn’t on the cover of some cheap tabloid. Losing eighty pounds in two years was an impossible feat. No way she’d subject herself to a strict, point-counting diet. Tangela loved food. Buying it, cooking it, eating it. Despite what health gurus and nutritionists said, she wasn’t addicted to food and would tell friends and family, “I’m not an emotional eater. I just love fried chicken!”

It’s not her, he decided, convinced his assistant had downed one too many mojitos last night during happy hour. Besides, Tangela didn’t need to lose weight. Not a single pound. She was perfect from the top of her pretty little head to the bottom of her dainty size-seven feet. “There’s no way she’d go on one of those extreme diets or—”

“Oh, it’s her, all right. But don’t take my word for it,” she said, dangling the magazine in front of his face. “See for yourself.”

Holy shit! Eyes bright, jaw slack, Warrick stared mutely at his ex-girlfriend’s image. Blood stopped flowing to his brain and he felt as though his mouth was packed with salt. A harsh acerbic foam coated his tongue. He’d hoped she’d gained weight, gotten her nose pierced—which he’d been firmly against—or chopped off her hair. But she hadn’t. Not only was she a shadow of her former self, she’d grown her hair long, wore natural-looking makeup and had milky-white teeth. Warrick didn’t think it was possible, but Tangela was even more striking.

“I’d kill to look like that,” one of the women announced.

“I think she’s too thin,” criticized another. “Tangela’s always been pretty—she didn’t need to lose all that weight.”

Warrick agreed. Two years ago, Tangela had been curvy and voluptuous, like his favorite American Idol, Jennifer Hudson, and now she was a stick figure. Since he could remember, he’d always had a thing for “healthy” women. Broomstick-thin types who graced movie screens and magazine covers didn’t impress him. He appreciated an athletic physique as much as the next man, but he loved hips and thighs and butt and his ex-fiancée used to have it all.

Dropping his empty cup in the wastebasket, he leaned against his desk for support. Colors and images and objects collided in his brain and his chest inflated as though he was holding his breath underwater. With much difficulty, he focused his eyes on the cover. The words Amazing Weight-Loss Stories were splashed across the page in thick bold letters and Tangela stood proudly in a skimpy, lime-green bikini. We dated for seven years and I never saw her in anything but a boring one-piece! Her smile was bold, suggesting a wild, playful side and stirred repressed memories in him. Emotions he didn’t have a name for rose to the surface at the mere sight of her.

Senses sharper than a comic-book character, he examined the People magazine cover in acute detail. Everything about Tangela was gorgeous. The ultrastraight auburn hair, the shiny lipstick, the hoop earrings. Hands propped audaciously on her hips, shoulders thrown back, chin tilted in supreme confidence, she radiated an inner beauty that literally took his breath away. Warrick didn’t need to peek inside Tangela’s head to know what she was thinking. Her eyes shone with mischief, her cleavage was blinding and he’d never seen her skin look more vibrant. Tangela knew she was hot and she wanted the world to know. “I think she’s…I mean…” He trailed off. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Doesn’t she look incredible?” Payton watched him intently for several seconds. “I already finished reading the article. Go on,” she ordered, “take it.”

Warrick stepped back. “I can’t. I have work to do.” As he turned away, he made a point of saying, “And so do you.”

At five o’clock that afternoon, Warrick emerged from the conference room feeling tired and spent. Preoccupied in his thoughts, he continued down the hall, reviewing in his mind the conversation he’d had with the group of Japanese investors. As he passed his assistant’s desk, he noticed the People magazine sitting on a stack of manila files. No longer safely tucked away in the side drawer with the other tabloids, it sat on the middle of Payton’s desk, mocking him, teasing him, a painful reminder of the woman he’d loved and lost.

Glancing around, he flipped it open and scanned the table of contents. “Amazing Weight-Loss Stories,” Page 87. But before he could locate the article, Payton appeared out of nowhere. “Looking for something?” she asked innocently.

“No.” Sliding his hands into his pockets, he jangled the loose coins. “I need to clear my head. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

“The Web conference went that bad, huh?”

“Worse. They’re threatening to find another firm.” He stood there quietly, a reflective expression on his face. “But I’ll think of something.”

Drumming her manicured nails on the desk, she looked carefully around the office. “Is there anything you need before I go?”

“No, I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a good night.”

“I will. Jerell’s taking me to see Lord, Why Me Again? at the Arts Center.”

“Poor guy.” He chuckled heartily. “Your husband has my deepest sympathies.”

Payton giggled. “It’s fun, the acting is great and the audience really gets into the show.”

“I bet,” he deadpanned, a miserable expression on his face. “Sorry, but it’s just not my thing. Tangela forced me to watch one on DVD and I hated it.”

“Relationships are about give and take. Jerell goes with me to the plays, and I leave him alone when he’s watching football. It’s called compromise. You—” she patted his back “—should try it sometime.”

“That’s why I’m single. I can work as much as I want without anyone getting on my case.” He made sure to add, “And that’s how I like it.”

“Sounds lonely.”

Sensing she wanted to say more, he said goodbye and strolled toward the bank of elevators. Outside, Warrick was swept up in the hustle and bustle of the Las Vegas business district. Men in tailored suits strode down Fremont Street, tourists snapped pictures of everything and nothing and evening traffic moved at a snail’s pace.

Deciding against flagging down a taxi, he pulled up the collar on his suit jacket and stepped around a group of high-school students in ghoulish face masks. If not for their costumes, he would have forgotten it was Halloween. As he passed a row of cafés and convenience stores, he caught a glimpse of Tangela. Or rather, of her picture on a stack of People magazines. Was there no escaping this woman?

His eyes narrowed. How many more times would she intrude on his thoughts today? Last he’d heard, Tangela was living in Mexico studying Spanish, something she’d always wanted to do, but never did because she hated the thought of them being apart.

Warrick grunted. Funny, she’d professed her love with more conviction than a Keyshia Cole song, but didn’t have a problem sneaking out in the middle of the night in the car he’d bought her. No, she wasn’t the loving, devoted, fiancée she’d pretended to be. Tangela had been out for herself from day one, but he’d been too stupid to realize it.

Without thinking, he stopped at a convenience store, counted out the exact change and requested a bag for his purchase. He couldn’t risk someone seeing him with the magazine. They might think he was still carrying a torch for his ex. Or worse, that he wanted her back.

An hour later, behind the privacy of his office door, Warrick stared disbelievingly at one of the November issues of People magazine. He scarcely remembered what he’d eaten at the Third Street Grill or the ten-minute walk back to his office. But now that Payton and her posse had left for the day, he could read in peace.

Appraising the cover, he emitted a low, hollow sound from the back of his throat. Tangela Howard. The small-town girl with the big heart. Raised by a drug-addicted mother, she’d relocated to Las Vegas at seventeen and worked two full-time jobs to pay for university. A year after earning a degree in employment relations, she’d applied to American Airlines in hopes of working her way up from flight attendant to operations manager. Warrick admired the way she’d coped with all the misfortunes in life and had made it his job to give Tangela her heart's desire. His efforts had all been in vain.

Warrick held the magazine so close to his face he could see her clear nail polish. This was the first day since Tangela had walked out on him that he hadn’t woken up thinking about her, and as he searched inside for the cover story, he wondered how seven years of love, companionship and earth-shaking sex could have flatlined so quickly.

Shifting on his high-backed leather chair, he released a quick, inaudible sigh. Seeing Tangela again unnerved him. Made him think about things he had no business thinking about. Like how she used to kiss him the second he came through the door. Or how she’d gently caress his face when he was nestled deep inside her.

To keep from taking another trip down memory lane, he studied her picture intently, as if she was a stranger. And she was. This woman with the slender face, toned arms and lissome shape bore no resemblance to his ex-girlfriend. Her eyes were slightly tinted at the corners and had a hint of gray. Definitely contacts, he decided, continuing his appraisal. Gone were her short, springy curls. In their place a high ponytail that grazed her bare shoulders. The ruffled halter bikini made a strong statement: she was a bold, sexy woman who was thirsty for adventure.

Warrick flipped through the magazine and stopped when he saw another full-length picture of Tangela. A small, passport-size photograph was on the corner of the page. Above the snap was the word Before. Tangela was in her navy American Airlines uniform, smiling directly into the camera. Warrick recognized the photo. He’d taken it the night she’d aced her final exam. Almost two years to that day, she’d left him.

Feelings of nostalgia assailed him, but he refused to think about what they’d done on the kitchen counter that afternoon. Face pinched in concentration, he pored over the interview as if he was studying for the Nevada bar exam.

According to the article, Tangela had lost the weight through diet, exercise and nutritional supplements. Why? circled in and out of his mind. Why would she put herself on such a stringent diet? Warrick found the answer at the end of the first paragraph.

“I didn’t set out to lose a lot of weight, but when doctors diagnosed a blood clot in my right leg, a friend sat me down and told me to get my act together. I took his words to heart and that was the beginning of my transformation. Walking, exercising, eating well…Now I’m fit and healthy and ready to begin the next chapter of my life.”

His? The word was more painful than a slap shot between the eyes. And, as if it were a real-life blow, he needed time to gather his thoughts. Tangela had a boyfriend? It had only been two years since they—correction, she—had broken off their engagement. Not enough time for him to heal, but obviously enough time for her. He continued reading, his frown growing deeper with each fatuous sentence. Warrick snorted. Emotional eating is the driving force behind weight gain. “Who wrote this crap?” he wondered aloud. “There was nothing wrong with her!” He’d dated Tangela for seven years. If she’d had a food addiction he’d know. Fast food had always been her weakness, but everyone had their vice. He liked beer, she liked cheeseburgers and for others gambling, porn or alcohol did them in. Who was this People magazine reporter to judge?

Warrick was so engrossed in reading the article he didn’t notice his sister in the doorway until she cleared her throat. “Is this a bad time?”

Startled, he stared up at his sister. “Rachael, what brings you by?” he asked, sliding the magazine into his top drawer and coming around the desk. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

“Do I need an excuse to visit my little brother?” She gave him a one-armed hug. “My Pilates class just finished and since the studio is only a few blocks over, I decided to swing by. What are you up to?”

Scratching his cheek, he shrugged with an affected air of boredom. “You know, this and that. Working hard to keep our clients happy. In fact, I was just reviewing contracts when you walked in.”

“Liar! You were checking out Tangela’s spread in People,” she announced, plopping down on the padded chair in front of his desk. “And you were slobbering all over yourself, too!”

Unzipping her leather handbag, she retrieved her copy of the magazine. Shaking her head, she gestured to the cover with her hands. “I still can’t believe it’s her! The last time I saw Tangela, she was a mess. Wailing, crying, rambling about how much she loved you. It was awful. She was a pitiful sight back then, but now look at her.” Her voice was a mixture of awe and respect. “Tangela’s one bad-ass chick!”

“Why didn’t you tell me she was upset over the breakup?”

“Would it have made a difference? You didn’t want to marry her and there was no getting around that.” Abandoning the magazine, she wore a fond smile. “You’re a good man, Warrick, and one day you’re going to make some woman very happy. But Tangela’s not the one. You know it, I know it, and so does she.” Rachael softened the blow by saying, “Don’t look so glum, bro. The breakup was the best thing ever to happen to you. You said so yourself.”

Tongue-tied, he listened to his sister say he was too immature for a commitment as enormous as marriage. Warrick started to defend himself, but the words didn’t come. What could he say? Rachael was right. He wasn’t ready. And at thirty-one he didn’t have to be. He had his whole life ahead of him. Why would he want to ruin it by giving up his freedom? A ball and chain held as much appeal as taking a spin in the electric chair.

“I don’t mean to be harsh, but you get an A in business and an F in relationships. You’re just not the settle-down type and that’s okay. It’s not like Dad has been a good role model.” Eyes soft with sympathy, she crossed her legs and waited a half second before she continued. “Since I’m here,” she began, straightening, “there’s a situation we really need to discuss.”

Notorious for being overdramatic, his sister used the word situation so regularly he never knew what to expect. Was the maintenance light on in her Land Rover? Had his brother-in-law forgotten their anniversary? Or was her poodle, Fefe, sick again?

“I want you to promise me you won’t trip when you see Tangela.”

“Fat chance of that,” he scoffed. “I won’t be in Guadalajara anytime soon. But if I ever make it down there, I’ll be sure to look her up.”

Staring at him, her forehead wrinkled in confusion, she asked what he was talking about. “Tangela got back from Mexico weeks ago.”

“What!” The force of his tone shook the windows. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, she lives in a swanky new singles complex in Canyon Gate.”

“I had no clue. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You didn’t ask.” Rachael rushed along. “Tangela doesn’t want to go to the Hawthorne party because you’ll be there, but I assured her it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“What are you, the middleman now?”

“No, just a concerned friend. Tangela’s dating a new guy and you’ve got…” She paused, as if waiting for divine intervention. “And you’ve got work. You’re both happy, thriving even.”

Sneering, he gripped the arms of his chair. So, that’s what this was about. Tangela had moved on and didn’t want him getting in the way. Wasn’t it bad enough she’d walked out on him? To stick it to him, she’d lost weight, sexed-up her look and lured their friends over to her side. Back in town less than a month and she was already turning his life upside down. Typical Tangela. She might look like an angel, but she was a barracuda in heels.

But as her image passed through his mind, his anger deflated, leaving him feeling empty inside. Learning she was someone else’s girl pissed him off. Stroking his chin, he told himself he didn’t care. But deep down, he did. Who was this guy she was dating? Tangela had always had a thing for men in uniform. Buff, muscular types who made females swoon. Curious about her new boyfriend but worried his interest would be misconstrued, he decided not to interrogate his sister.

“Rachael, I’m not going to cause a scene. Like I told you before, I’m over her.”

Looking hopeful, she said, “You’ve put the past behind you and you’re going to be cordial and friendly when you see her, right, Warrick?”

Warrick nodded absently. He’d planned to skip the party and spend the evening evaluating the New Orleans development project budget, but if Tangela was going, he was going. But where was he going to find a costume at the last minute? As he searched for a solution, another thought came to mind. I don’t have a date. There would be lots of other couples, and Tangela would be there, prancing around the room on the arm of some hunky beefcake.

Second thoughts surfaced. With everything going on at the office, he didn’t have four hours to waste schmoozing with the Las Vegas elite, even if it was for the Hawthornes. Every year, the powerhouse couple threw a Halloween party at their lavish home, and although Warrick enjoyed partying with his friends, he couldn’t muster up the energy this time.

“You made the trip for nothing. I’m not going. I have too much to do around here.” Anxious to get back to work, Warrick thanked Rachael for coming and hustled her out of his office. “Tell the boys their uncle is taking them toy-shopping on Sunday.”

Rachael groaned. “I don’t have any more room in the house for trucks and GameCubes, so keep the new toys at your house,” she suggested, stopping in front of the elevators.

“What will my lady friend think if she trips over an action figure?” Warrick shook his head, a roguish twinkle in his eyes. “Can’t have her thinking I’m one of those soft mushy types who loves children, now can I?”

“Oh, so you’re seeing someone.” Her eyes were bright, round stars and her voice was infused with enthusiasm. “That’s terrific! I’ve been really worried about you,” she confessed. “You haven’t been yourself ever since Tangela left. The old Warrick was fun and outgoing and loved to have a good time.” She added, “I miss him.”

“I wish everybody would quit saying that. I’m not dead, I’m busy. I have a lot going on right now.” The elevator chimed and the doors slid open. Saved by the bell, he thought, ushering Rachael inside. “Have a good time and give my regards to Mr. and Mrs. Hawthorne.”

“I will. See ya!”

Alone now, he thought back over what his sister had said. Tangela had some nerve sending Rachael over here to talk to him. He had as much right to be at the Hawthorne party as she did. Hell, more. The couple were friends of his family. Tangela had met them through him, and even though she saw them regularly, it didn’t mean they liked her more. Screw her and her stupid magazine cover. Tangela might think she was all that, but she wasn’t.

Warrick’s gaze fell on the clock hanging across the room. Six-oh-nine. If he hauled ass, he could make a quick stop at a costume store and still arrive at the party on time. Half walking, half running, Warrick sped back down the hall. All he needed now was a date. Names and faces swirled in his mind. Janet? No, she was in San Francisco on business. Maliyah wouldn’t be able to find a babysitter on such short notice, and although Claire was an accomplished pianist, she couldn’t hold a candle to Tangela in the looks department.

Head bent, Warrick considered every woman he knew. He couldn’t invite just anyone to the party. Not when Tangela looked like a million bucks. His date had to be gorgeous, sexy, hot. Someone who’d make the men drool and the women jealous. That was the only criteria and by the time Warrick reached his office he knew just who to call.

Chapter Two

“Where is she?” Warrick asked, his gaze combing the darkened living room. An hour ago, he’d been greeted by Mrs. Hawthorne, ushered over to the bar and offered a variety of cocktails and appetizers. “Are you sure the woman you saw was Tangela?”

The question must have sounded like a desperate plea and Warrick’s friend, Quinten Harris, dressed as one of Nevada’s finest, gave him a scathing look under his fake cop glasses. “Let it go, dog. You guys are all wrong for each other. You’re like a ticking time bomb. You’re good for a couple of months then—” he threw his hands in the air “—ka-boom!”

Quinten laughed, but Warrick didn’t, saying, “Shut up, no one asked you.”

“Just calling it like I see it. Face it, dude, she’s just not that into you.”

Annoyed, Warrick opened his mouth with a stinging retort, but swallowed it when he felt a delicate hand on his forearm. He cast a glance over his shoulder, and found his date staring up at him. The former debutante wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box, but she’d been the Jet Beauty of the Week twice and dazzled in her mermaid costume.

Turning toward his date, he greeted her warmly. “Hi, Alexis. Is everything all right?”

“I see a…an old friend out on the patio. Do you mind if go over and say hello?” she trilled, adjusting her outfit to reveal more flesh. When she popped open a gold compact and cleaned the corners of her mouth with her tongue, he knew her “friend” was a member of the opposite sex. “I won’t be long.”

“Take your time,” he muttered, watching her sail through the French doors. Popular in her own right, Alexis Nyguard exchanged business cards with the men and shared beauty tips with the women. I sure know how to pick them, he thought, when he saw Alexis throw her arms around a swarthy man dressed in a hot-dog costume.

Glad she was gone, he turned back to his friend. “Know anything about Tangela’s date?”

“Name’s Leonard Butkiss. He’s a plumber.”

Warrick chuckled. “You’re yanking my chain.”

“I couldn’t have come up with something that funny if I tried.”

Both men laughed.

“What does this Butkiss guy look like?”

“What does he look like?” Quinten mimicked, shaking his head. Scowling, he reached over and plucked the S embellished on the front of his friend’s costume. “A superhero, my ass. You should have gone with something more feminine like Snow White. You’re too soft to be a superhero.” His harsh, grating chuckle got louder. “Why are you so hell-bent on seeing her, anyway? It’s about the car, isn’t it?”

“No, I’m over that. Besides, Tangela must have been really hard up for money to sell it. She loved her little Sunbeam.” Four months after their breakup, he’d spotted the classic automobile in the classified section of the newspaper. When he’d seen it weeks later on a used-car Web site, he’d actually considered buying it. At five thousand dollars below value, it was a steal. But whenever he looked at the car, he remembered all the times they’d made love in the backseat, and it was hard enough not thinking about her as it was.

“Pull yourself together, man.” Folding his thick lumberjack-like arms across his middle, Quinten scanned the partying crowd. “This desperate, R. Kelly–type vibe you’re giving off ain’t cool. It’s scaring off the honies.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me wanting to see her,” he argued, prepared to defend himself. “We dated for seven years, remember?”

“How can I forget when you keep reminding me?” Quinten snapped. After a beat, he said, “Did you know that fifty-three percent of marriages end in divorce within the first five years? You guys never would have made it that long. You’re both too jealous and hardheaded.”

Warrick blew out a breath of frustration. Why was everyone so dead-set against him seeing Tangela? First his sister and now Quinten. Was he that bad? How come everyone forgot that she’d walked out on him? While he was in New York negotiating the biggest deal of his career, Tangela had packed her stuff, rented a truck and moved out. He’d lost sleep over it, not her. So why was everyone rallying around poor ol’ Tangela?

“Leave the woman alone. She’s moved on and you should, too.”

Anger flared in Warrick’s belly. Running his tongue over his teeth, he lifted his glass of soda to his mouth to keep from decking his friend in the face. Quinten didn’t know jack about women. His longest relationship had lasted as long as a Super Bowl commercial and there were parts of the city he couldn’t drive through for fear of bodily harm. The management consultant had broken hearts in every county from Tule Springs to Charleston and showed no signs of stopping. “Like I’m going to take advice from someone who gets dating tips from Playboy magazine.”

“It’s over. She’s not coming back.” Quinten’s eyes roved appreciatively over a shapely woman in a cocktail bunny costume. “Rejoice, man. Now she’s somebody else’s problem.” Clapping a hand on Warrick’s shoulder, Quinten swiped a champagne flute from a passing waiter’s tray and raised it high in the air. “Congratulations! All your problems are gone!”

Warrick didn’t join in the celebration.

“Stay away from Tangela,” Quinten warned, striding off.

Warrick scanned the darkened room, peering around the tombstones hanging from the ceiling. Avoiding Tangela wasn’t the answer. In fact, he was secretly hoping to run into her. Closure. That’s what he needed. Wandering around, he searched for something to do. Alexis was dancing with an Austin Powers look-alike, Quinten was flirting with a sexy gypsy and couples everywhere held hands, kissed and shared private jokes. The way he and Tangela used to.

Warrick took the elevator to the second floor of the palatial home and knew instinctively that his ex was there. Her Oriental fragrance sweetened the air. Seconds later, he heard her rich, effervescent laugh. Heart pounding, mouth wet with anticipation, he resisted the urge to run full-speed down the hall. Careful not to spill his drink on the carpet, he shouldered his way through the crowd of partygoers. Warrick brushed fake cobwebs away from his face as he ducked into the game room. Standing nonchalantly in the doorway, he surveyed the scene. And there, beside the pool table, was his first love, Tangela Marie Howard.

Coughing, he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. His nervous system went berserk and it took several seconds before his heart rate slowed. Tangela had always had that effect on him, but tonight it was a hundred times worse. It wasn’t the stylish haircut, or even her shrunken waistline that stunned him. It was her costume. He hadn’t expected to see her dressed in a leather cat-woman bodysuit that accentuated every luscious slope. Her dark dramatic eyes, visible through the slits in her face mask, and her lush red lips enhanced her staggering sex appeal.

At a statuesque five feet ten inches, Tangela towered over all of the women in the room and more than half of the men. Her costume left nothing to the imagination and made the Pussycat Dolls look like a bunch of Catholic school girls. Once, to spice up things in the bedroom, he’d suggested she dress up in one of those skimpy maid’s uniforms. Not only had Tangela flat-out refused, she’d given him the cold shoulder that night in bed, but now she was boldly flaunting her salacious curves. His ex obviously had a wild streak he knew nothing about, and that made him wonder what else she’d kept hidden from him all those years.

Jealousy reared its ugly head as he watched Tangela cheer on her date. She used to look at him that way. Eyes twinkling, face aglow, lips holding a smile reserved just for him. Seeing Tangela with another man, even a fluffy, out-of-shape plumber, made Warrick burn inside. How had it been so easy for her to start over?

Nine years ago, when he’d met Tangela Howard at Tower Records, it had been love at first sight. A scrawny teenager had crashed into a life-size cutout of Aerosmith and sent hundreds of CDs crashing to the floor. Warrick glanced up, wondering how the kid could have missed the gigantic display. Then he noticed the crooked grins on the faces of the male customers and trailed their covetous gazes. Shoulders bouncing, hips twirling, the tall, voluptuous girl at the back of the store in the skintight jeans grooved as if she was at a hip-hop concert.

Warrick made his move and after a few minutes of polite conversation asked her out. By the end of their first date, the twenty-year-old business administration student had captured his heart. Friends labeled them polar opposites and discouraged them from dating. They had mismatched tastes in music, movies and food, but Tangela understood him better than anyone and supported him wholeheartedly.

In the beginning, she’d praised him for climbing swiftly up the corporate ladder. But soon she was complaining about his crazy schedule. Warrick wanted to spend time with her, but he wasn’t cutting back his hours or delegating more tasks to his team. It was hard enough proving himself. Founded in 1978, Maxim Designs and Architects was one of the leading architectural companies in the world and was widely known for its international landmark structures and commercial projects. The other architects thought he’d been hired because his father owned the company and they didn’t try to hide their contempt. They didn’t care that he worked weekends or stayed at the office until midnight. He was the boss’s son and they resented his success.

Then, Tangela’s mother died and she became short-tempered, clingy and possessive. Calling him on the hour, dropping by his 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.

“Welcome home.” His voice, clear and steady, was filled with surprising warmth. “Mexico’s obviously been good to you.”

“Yeah, it was great.” Feeling dry-mouthed and sick, Tangela gulped down a mouthful of soda. Anticipating his next question, she cut him off. “I learned Spanish, toured most of the country and made some great friends.”

“Who’s she?” Rachael asked, motioning to Alexis. “Someone you met at work?”

Warrick wanted Rachael to leave and tried to communicate his wishes with his eyes. When his sister didn’t get the hint, he put a hand on her back and guided her to the open patio door. “Davis has been looking all over for you.”

“Really? Is he all right?” Rachael downed the contents of her cocktail glass. “Hubby’s been fighting a migraine all day. I’ll go check on him, then come right back.”

Tangela watched Rachael hustle inside.

“That spread in People magazine was really something. Every man in America will be dreaming about you tonight.” Staring at Tangela, Warrick reflected on their seven-year relationship. Their intense, emotional bond had seen them through the most difficult times and he missed having Tangela to talk to. It still bothered him how things had ended, but he didn’t share his thoughts with her. More than ready to put the past between them, he suggested they sit down on the wicker love seat. “We should catch up. It’s been a while and I’m curious about what you’ve been up to.” He added, “Besides appearing on magazine covers, of course.”

“I should go before my date starts looking for me.”

“What are you doing with him, Tangela? He’s not your type.”

“Exactly.” Defensive, she glared openly at him. “I finally abandoned that silly Hollywood notion of true love and decided to find someone nice.”

“What about love?” Warrick couldn’t believe those words had actually come out of his mouth. Before he could correct himself, Tangela tossed her head back and laughed in his face.

“I forgot how funny you were.” Her tone was sarcastic and her smile was ice-cold. “Like you know anything about love.”

“You sound a little bitter.”

Her hand shook when she lifted her glass to her mouth. “No, I’m just cautious.”

“But don’t you want to be with someone you’re in sync with?”

For a long time she didn’t speak. There’d been a time when they were two minds with a single thought. Scintillating conversation and scorching sexual chemistry had kept their relationship strong for almost a decade, but in the end, that hadn’t been enough to keep them together. “Chemistry’s overrated. I want somebody who’s going to be there when I need him. Someone committed to me and our relationship.”

Warrick winced. Why didn’t she just come right out and call him a jerk? Smirk in place, he recovered quickly, saying, “I guess I’m looking at the next Mrs. Butkiss, then. Congratulations! I wish you nothing but the best.”

Tangela regarded him coldly. She heard the humor in his voice, but resisted playing the role of the bitter ex-girlfriend. He’d love it if she embarrassed herself in front of their friends. It wasn’t going to happen. Doing everything in her power to keep her composure, she made a point of peering over his shoulder in search of a more suitable companion. Her eyes landed on their lively host. “Mr. Hawthorne promised me a dance and I’m going to go cash in.”

“See you around.”

“Not if I see you first,” she mumbled, stepping past him.

Chapter Three

Tangela avoided Warrick like the bubonic plague. To ensure their paths didn’t cross again, she stuck to her girlfriends like glue. But when she spotted Warrick’s date perusing the dessert table, her curiosity got the best of her and she went over. “Everything looks so good,” Tangela gushed, peering at the pumpkin-shaped chocolate cake. “I don’t know where to begin.”

Alexis glanced around, then leaned over and whispered, “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m on my fourth goblin truffle. If I’m not careful, I’m going to split the zipper on this costume!”

The women laughed.

“Are you a friend of the Hawthornes’?” Tangela asked, picking up a plate.

“No, I came with Warrick Carver. Do you know him?”

Squinting, as if trying to place him in her mental Rolodex, she shook her head. “I can’t say that I do. Is he your boyfriend?”

“I wish. If he wasn’t so obsessed with his work, I’d be all over him.” Alexis bit into a pecan spider cookie and chewed. “And I think he’s still hung up on his ex. I can’t be anybody’s rebound. Not even for a hottie like Warrick.”

Convinced she’d misheard, Tangela inched closer and blocked out the other voices in the room. “What kind of things does he say?”

“Not much really. He said she kept the house clean and had dinner and a cold beer ready for him when he got home from work.” Laughing, Alexis raked her fingernails through her hair. “She sounds like a fifties housewife if you ask me! Pa-th-e-tic,” she sang, rolling her eyes.

Tangela had always questioned her unwavering devotion to Warrick and hearing Alexis, a perfect stranger, belittle her, made her feel like a fool. Instead of ironing his dress shirts and scrubbing the kitchen floors to a shine, she should have been working her way up the corporate ladder. “So, there’s no chance you and this Warrick guy might hook up?”

“Not as far as I can see. He has this Tangela chick on a pedestal and I’m not about to compete with Ms. Doubtfire.”

Tangela winced. She remembered when she was Alexis’s age and she’d never, ever been that together. Young, insecure and desperate for love, she’d put all her hopes and dreams on hold to plan her future with Warrick. Married at twenty-six. First baby at twenty-eight. Dream home by thirty. It was too bad he’d turned out to be a toad instead of her Prince Charming.

“Well, it was nice talking to you.” Alexis wiggled her fingers. “Tootles!”

As she watched the woman saunter off, feelings of regret settled in. Tangela wished she’d made better decisions, but refused to beat herself up over the past. Thrilled to be working at American Airlines but wanting more, she knew it was just a matter of time before she got a management position. And once she found Mr. Right, she’d have the loving, caring family she had always longed for. The one she’d never had but knew existed.

A lump formed in her throat. Three years ago her mother had died of heart failure and as she’d watched her mother’s casket being lowered into the ground at the funeral, she’d decided she, too, wanted, needed someone to care for her in her last days. Two days after the funeral, she’d sat Warrick down and told him to pick a wedding date. He’d refused. His dad was in the hospital, he was swamped at work and his family needed him. Excuses, excuses, excuses. Knowing she’d never be strong enough to move out if Warrick was around, Tangela rented a trailer the day he left for New York, loaded her things and left town.

Even now, after all this time, she remembered their last conversation. The anguish in his voice was unbearable, but she’d been strong. No, she wasn’t coming back. Yes, she was sure this was what she wanted. Her eyes burned at the memory, and to loosen the tightness of her throat she downed the rest of her drink. Ready to go, she tapped her date on the shoulder. When she caught Warrick eyeing her, she grabbed her purse and made a beeline for the coat room.

Forty minutes later, Leonard turned his battered sedan into Tangela’s apartment complex. “Can I come in for a while?”

“Sorry, but I have an early-morning flight,” she said, discreetly scratching her arm. Tangela had fallen in love with the cat-woman suit on sight, but after five hours in it, she wanted to set the stupid thing on fire. Sweat, leather and shea butter made for terribly itchy skin, and although she’d won the prize for best costume, she’d decided that the hundred-dollar Nordstrom gift card wasn’t worth all the trouble.

“Tangela, I really like you,” Leonard confessed, stretching his meaty arm across the back of her seat. “I know we agreed to see other people, but I don’t want anybody else. I want you.”

Right words, wrong guy, she thought, unlocking the passenger door. Warrick’s face popped into her head, but Tangela cleared the image from her mind. Thinking about him would lead to fantasizing and she didn’t want to go down that road again. Marriage was on the horizon, not hooking up with a man with whom she’d once shared an incredible passion. They didn’t have a future, and that was reason enough for her to stay far away from him.

“Come here.” Eyes closed, lips puckered, he moved in for a kiss. Minuscule pieces of spinach were trapped between his front teeth and he smelled like onion dip.

Looks like I found another winner! Convincing herself it was his bad breath and not seeing Warrick again that was turning her off, she twisted her body toward the window. His lips grazed her cheek. His mustache felt like hard, brittle whiskers and made her think of her foster mother’s cat, Rufus.

“I’m attracted to you and I know you feel the same way, so what are we waiting for?” Shifting in his seat, he licked his thin lips. “A man has needs, you know.”

Tangela almost choked on her tongue. Leonard had said a lot of funny things since they’d met last month, but that took the cake. “Good night, Leonard. Take care.”

At the door of her apartment condo, she waved, then turned the lock and went inside. “Whoever said dating was easy ought to be shot!” she complained, slipping her aching feet out of her black stilettos. Tangela considered calling Sage to vent. Before meeting her husband, Marshall, her best friend had dated a long list of losers, and if anyone would understand how she was feeling, it was Sage. Tangela reached for the phone, but remembered that Sage was in Los Angeles watching her stepson, Khari, play in the regional basketball championships.

Fifteen minutes later, Tangela stretched out on the bed and allowed India. Arie’s voice to shower her with self-love and tranquility. Warrick looked good tonight. Good enough to take home and make love to. Startled by the thought, she rolled onto her side, searching the room for a suitable distraction. Something. Anything that would take her mind off her ex.

Sitting up, she reached for the stack of magazines on her night table, and plopped them down on her lap. For the third time in days, she scrutinized the People magazine cover. When she’d opened her mailbox and seen it lying among her bills, she’d actually danced around the kitchen. But when she read the interview, her excitement had waned.

“Food addiction, my ass,” she grumbled, tossing the magazine onto the floor. She was fit and fabulous whether she was a size eighteen or a size ten. Just because the editorial staff didn’t believe her didn’t mean it wasn’t true. She’d lost the weight without even trying. Having been to Guadalajara numerous times, she’d felt comfortable walking from her host family’s house to the institute where she taught English classes and studied Spanish.

Her host mother, Ima, was weight-conscious and took great pride in preparing tasty, low-calorie meals for the family. Three weeks after arriving in Mexico, Tangela had lost twelve pounds. Six months later, she was down to a size fourteen and by the end of the year, she was at the lowest weight she’d ever been.

Tangela wished she could curl up in bed and watch TV, but she had to get ready for work tomorrow and her clothes weren’t going to pack themselves. After trading in India. Arie for the Black Eyed Peas, she grabbed one of the suitcases from the back of her closet.

As she heaved the suitcase onto the bed, it fell open, sending photo albums, stray pictures and DVDs crashing to the bedroom floor. For a moment, Tangela stood there motionless, unsure of what to do. She’d been meaning to get rid of these old mementos, but hadn’t gotten around to it yet. Warrick wasn’t her boyfriend anymore, but it just didn’t seem right tossing perfectly good pictures into the trash.

Tangela had always considered herself a fairly with-it per son. In spite of having been raised by a woman who had a laundry list of psychological problems, Tangela had graduated high school with a near-perfect GPA and worked full-time to put herself through college. But when Tangela had met Warrick, she’d fallen hopelessly in love. Moving in with him had cemented their commitment, and he became everything to her, the only real family she’d ever had.

Against her better judgment, she picked up the tape marked Spring in New Orleans. Tangela still remembered the time they’d spent in the Big Easy. They’d shared passionate kisses, made love on the beach and eaten at the best Creole restaurant in the city. It was there, while they celebrated their fifth anniversary, that Warrick had proposed. Tangela had been too mesmerized by the sight of the pink canary diamond to notice his tense body language, but months later, when she’d watched the video he’d secretly had taped by a hotel concierge staff person, she’d seen the uncertainty in his eyes.

Enough memories, she decided. To purge her thoughts, she turned up the music and forced all images of Warrick from her mind. It was time to cut her ties with her ex once and for all. As much as she hated destroying the video and other mementos, she couldn’t hold on to them any longer. If she was serious about getting married by her next birthday, she had to quit thinking about Warrick and make room in her heart for the right man to come along.

Scooping up the albums and videos, she marched into the kitchen, dumped everything into the trash bin and slammed the lid. “There,” she said, smacking her hands together. “Goodbye and good riddance!”

“Attention, passengers. The pilot has switched on the seat-belt light and we ask that you remain seated for the remainder of the flight.” Stepping out from behind the curtain that separated the two cabins, Tangela delivered a smile to the sleepy-eyed passengers occupying business class. “On behalf of the pilot and the entire American Airlines crew, we’d like to thank you for choosing American Airlines and we look forward to serving you in the future.”

For the remainder of the flight, Tangela handed out cups of water, retrieved headphones and collected garbage. When the plane touched down promptly at six forty-five, passengers broke out in applause, drawing chuckles from the flight attendants.

“Thanks for flying with American Airlines,” Tangela said cheerfully when the final passenger disembarked. “Have a great day!” Her mouth ached from smiling, and she could feel a migraine coming on, but she kept her smile in place until the last businessperson was out of sight. After catering to a hundred and thirty people on a flight from Chicago, then bidding them all goodbye, Tangela needed an ice pack, two aspirin and an apple martini.

“You’re one heck of an actress,” Mr. Connelly teased, patting her on the back like a proud father. “I thought you were going to lose it when that snot-nosed kid started banging on the cockpit door, but you held it together. Good job, Tangela.”

He returned to the cockpit, and Tangela glanced around the first-class cabin. This morning, the Boeing 737 had been clean enough to eat off the floor, and now it looked as if a twister had ripped through it. Scraps of papers, wads of tissue and food crumbs now littered the carpet and she could see pink bubble gum wedged between two of the second-row seats.

Mumbling Spanish expletives, she grabbed a pair of latex gloves from the overhead bin and yanked them on. After two grueling back-to-back flights, Tangela was anxious to go home, but she couldn’t even think about leaving until the aircraft was spic-and-span.

“At the rate you’re going, we’ll never get out of here!” Poking her head into the first-class cabin was her friend and the lead flight attendant, Carmen Sanchez. “Get a move on it, chiquita.”

“Entonces matame ahora mismo.”

“Put you out of your misery? At least you didn’t get stuck in the back thwarting the plans of kinky couples anxious to join the mile-high club!” Tangela laughed.

“I can’t say I blame them,” Carmen confessed. “I know what it feels like to be in heat. I haven’t seen Hugo for ten days and mama needs some sugar!”

“Please, no more stories about how magnificent Hugo is in bed.” Tangela fought to keep a straight face. “I’ll run out of here screaming if you do!”

Carmen stuck out her tongue. “You’re just jealous.”

“You’re right, I am.”

“It’s been that long, huh?”

“Girl, you have no idea.” Tangela dumped an empty water bottle into the plastic bag. “I’m going to have to watch a how-to video the next time it happens!”

“What’s going on with you and that Demetrius guy?”

“He’s really sweet, but I can’t be with someone who smokes weed, even if it’s only ‘recreational,’” she said, making quotation marks with her fingers.

“Oh, no, not another one!” Carmen laughed. “My ex used to smoke pot, too. After three months of him eating me out of house and home, I kicked his sorry butt to the curb.”

“Sometimes I think I should just give up on this stupid quest to find a husband,” Tangela admitted. Since Halloween, Tangela had been on one bad date after another. The singles’ potluck dinner at her apartment complex had given her something to do last Sunday, and although she’d met several attractive men, she hadn’t made a love connection. Tangela worked hard, took care of herself and had her own money, but she couldn’t find a man to save her life. “I don’t know why I’m kidding myself. Mr. Right probably doesn’t even exist.”

Picking up on the sadness in her voice, Carmen took the garbage bag and motioned for her to sit down. “You’re going to be fine, Tangela. And one day you’ll find the perfect guy.”

“I’m so tired of going home to an empty house. In Guadalajara, I got used to having someone to talk to and do stuff with. Now, I’m back here and there’s no one. Most of my friends are either married, engaged or in a committed relationship.”

“Cheer up,” Carmen admonished, patting her hand. “You’re seeing Oliver later and he always takes you somewhere nice.”

“He sent me a text message about an hour ago. He can’t make it. Something came up.”

“That sucks.”

“Tell me about it. Another Friday night with nothing to do and nowhere to go.”

“What are you going to do instead?”

Tangela shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. Wash my hair, rearrange my furniture. You know, the usual single-girl crap.”

“Wanna stop by SushiSamba tonight? It’s been a while since I was there.”

“What about Hugo?”

“He’ll be fine. He has the Playboy channel to keep him company until I get home.” Snickering, she pulled Tangela to her feet. “Let’s finish up so we can go eat. Mama’s starving!”

Chapter Four

Socializing with clients after hours was one aspect of his job that Warrick hated. Away from their wives and esteemed country club members, sane, upstanding businessmen propositioned women half their age, guzzled champagne like it was water and partied more vigorously than a championship-winning football team.

Known for its carnival-inspired decor and twenty-one-seat sushi bar, SushiSamba appealed to professionals and partiers alike. It was the place to be seen at, and international real estate mogul Hakeem Kewasi had requested they have dinner at the upscale restaurant lounge. Proud of his movie-star looks, he’d hit on waitresses and girls barely out of their teens, but seemed particularly taken by full-figured women.

Warrick was nursing his second beer, wondering how much longer he’d have to babysit the businessman, when he felt his cell phone vibrating in his pocket. Convinced it was his father calling to check up on him, he said, “I’m going to the men’s room.”

“You’re not sick are you?”

“No. I feel great.”

“Good because the night’s still young, and I can’t wait to check out Vixen.”

“The topless bar?”

His eyes were bright. “My brother was here last year and he said the dancers at the club look like that Beyoncé girl.”

Warrick smothered a laugh. A week after Tangela had moved out, Quinten and the guys had dragged him to the gentlemen’s club on Paradise Road. He’d had a lot to drink, but he didn’t remember seeing any beautiful dancers there. Most of them looked like teenagers playing dress-up, not like the Grammy-winning superstar. “Vixen’s not all it’s cracked up to be. It’s just a lot of Las Vegas hype.”

“Andre said a hundred bucks can get me anything I want.”

There was no disputing that. Warrick wasn’t a saint and he loved clubbing as much as the next guy, but he’d rather go home and hang out in his living room than watch some bony chicks dance. He didn’t want to go to Vixen, but his dad had ordered him to show Mr. Kewasi a good time and that’s what he was going to do.

Strolling through the bar, he noted the coltish smiles the female patrons were shooting his way. Most were wearing designer outfits but had colorful tattoos on their shoulders and arms. Attractive in their own right, but not his type. Classy, sophisticated women who carried themselves with grace piqued his interest every time. Tangela would never dream of getting a tattoo. Or would she? If she could show up at the Hawthorne party in a skin-tight cat-woman costume, there was no telling what else she’d do.

The brunette sitting at the bar waved. Warrick returned her smile. He thought of approaching her, but when he saw her see-through outfit he changed his mind. It looked as if she’d stuffed two hot-air balloons under her dress. It was a wonder she didn’t topple over. Fake breasts didn’t appeal to him, and neither did silver tongue rings.

After using the washroom, he wandered into the lounge and sat down. The inviting decor, padded leather booths and lively music created a relaxing atmosphere. Pressing his BlackBerry handheld to his ear, he listened to his messages. Making a mental note to return the calls later, Warrick slid the phone into his pocket and stared up at one of the flat-screen TVs.

He checked the score of the Mariners game, relieved to see his team was beating the Yankees. An American Airlines commercial came on and he thought of Tangela. He wondered if she was out with her friends. On the weekends, she liked to go with her coworkers to the Karaoke Hut for cocktails. Singing off-key and encouraging others to do the same was something he couldn’t get behind, but Tangela always seemed to enjoy herself.

Warrick glanced over at the bar. Mr. Kewasi was gone. He combed the lounge for his prospective client. Ten minutes after his search began, he spotted the businessman in the dining area standing with a tall, slender women. The waiter was obscuring his view of her face, but he’d recognize those legs anywhere. Tangela!

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.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.