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