“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