No way. It was impossible. It was simply not possible that this man could be any more magnificent since she last saw him almost fifteen years ago.
Tykira Lowery pondered what was, to her, such a huge improbability as she headed into Damon and Catrina Ramsey’s immaculate country estate just outside Seattle, Washington. Ty had given in to her mother’s insistent demands that she attend the wedding of Quaysar Ramsey’s twin brother, Quest. The twins were the sons of her mother’s boss. In truth, she’d been almost afraid to say anything other than “yes” to the woman. Roberta “Bobbie” Lowery rarely demanded, never yelled and certainly never delivered ultimatums.
But she’d done just that and Ty really couldn’t hold her mother at fault. After all, she hadn’t set foot in Seattle since leaving for college in Hampton, Virginia, in the fall of 1990. Bobbie had abided by her daughter’s wishes to not return to her home state of Washington, and had spent time with her only child elsewhere. Once Ty was financially able, she flew her mother out to one exotic locale after another. Clearly, Bobbie had simply been biding her time, waiting to play on her daughter’s emotions and guilt for never visiting home.
But now, Ty owned up to the fact that it had been a mistake to give in to her mother’s emotional manipulating. As her cream pumps clicked across the gray and black marble checkered foyer and into the sunken ballroom, the ruffled hem to the skirt of her roseblush crepe suit flipping flirtatiously with her every step, Ty realized that she had indeed gravely underestimated how powerfully she’d be affected by being there.
More specifically, by seeing Quaysar Ramsey again.
The overwhelming sensation should have come as no surprise. She’d suspected that she’d be more than a little shaken to see him. Though she knew he’d be at the wedding, he was actually the last person she expected to see the moment she arrived.
Tall and muscular, he had the power to make her feel incredibly small and feminine—something she never admitted to liking. But, being a woman two inches shy of six feet, feeling less dominant was quite often an exquisite luxury. Quay Ramsey not only had the ability to make her feel that way, but when he looked at her, she forgot every and anything else. Those bottomless, pitch-black eyes were set so deeply beneath the sleek brows that slanted above….
He was still fierce looking and agitatingly arrogant. Confidence personified. He’d had no idea who she was—that was clear. When he’d almost hit her SUV with his car in the driveway a few minutes ago, she’d reveled in the power of his confusion as she verbally slammed him. Of course, during her “verbal slam” she was constantly trying to hear her own voice above her heart, which beat a thousand drums in her ears. Still, she managed to coolly order him out of her way, and the look on his face was sheer delight on her part.
The smug smile curving her full mouth diminished slightly. What would happen when he saw her again later? She hadn’t thought that far ahead. Uhoh, no time to do so now, she told herself. A woman who looked like Catrina Ramsey was eyeing her with that almost certain look of recognition. Tykira smiled and wiggled her fingers in a tentative wave.
Quay was strolling back into the foyer. He jingled the keys against his palm and tried once again to place where he’d seen the woman from the driveway. He’d certainly recall having met someone like her—all that rich black hair, glossy and bouncing to the middle of her back; molasses skin just like his own. Although, he was willing to bet his last dime that her skin was supple and satiny with a soft desirable fragrance clinging to it…
Dammit! Who was she? He wondered, glancing toward the keys again as if they held some answer. She knew him quite well as she’d been so kind to share during their run-in—no pun intended—out in the courtyard.
Then there was her height. He liked his women tiny and curvaceous. Of course, that was a preference he’d developed in yet another vain attempt to keep his mind off of…
Hold it. No way.
“Can’t be,” Quay breathed, his eyes gleaming with a fierce determination as he bounded toward the ballroom.
He scanned the crowd, knowing she’d stand out. After all, how many Amazons with silky midnight skin, amazing tresses and the most entrancing doe eyes could there be in the world? And suddenly, there she was, swaying to the soft classical tune the quartet performed from the alcove. His steps were halted just briefly before they resumed and he headed straight for her.
How could he have not known it was her? They’d been in one another’s lives since infancy. Tykira Lowery had taken an immediate, surprisingly intense liking to the overtly sensual and clearly outspoken Quay—as opposed to his quieter, more serious twin brother, Quest. She’d loved him before he even admitted to liking girls, was Quest’s usual tease. Quay loved her, too, but a small voice warned him of the danger. He couldn’t let anything happen to Ty especially when his feelings for her were just as deep and overwhelming. He’d felt the need to protect her no matter the cost. Still, over the years, the man in him had daydreamed of Ty. He wanted just a moment, just one moment to allow himself to pretend they could be a normal couple—loving and living without fear. Quay knew she’d hate him forever afterwards, but he believed he could take that for just another minute in her arms.
Tykira was laughing and slapped her dance partner’s shoulder.
Yohan Ramsey, the groom’s cousin, feigned surprise. “Ow,” he uttered playfully.
“Ow, is right if Mel walks in here and sees us. Stop holding me so tight. I don’t want her upset with me,” Ty teased, referring to Yohan’s wife.
Like someone had pulled a plug, the happiness on Yohan’s dark face drained away. His eyes pooled with a sadness not to be ignored.
“Han? What is it?” Ty whispered with concern, noticing his reaction.
“It’s okay,” Yohan assured her in his deep voice. “Melina and I are separated. Hmph,” he gestured and shook his head slightly as though he were in a state of disbelief. “It’s been six years. We should be divorced.”
Ty closed her eyes as recollection dawned. Her mother had informed her of the couple’s troubles and subsequent separation long ago. She searched his eyes with hers. “You wanna talk about it?” she asked.
Yohan’s easy expression returned. “Some things are best left alone. Besides, I think my cousin wants to cut in.”
Ty blinked and turned to find Quay standing right behind her.
“Not quite, Han,” he said, curving his hand around Ty’s upper arm and leading her from the ballroom.
Ty swallowed, trying to remain unfazed by the feel of his fingers snug around the crisp material of the tailored crepe cutaway jacket.
“What are you doing here?” Quay muttered as they walked.
“It’s your brother’s wedding day,” she reminded him. “Mama threatened to stop visiting me altogether if I didn’t show up.”
At last they were on the balcony. Quay leaned against the doorjamb of one of the French doors and watched her. “Q’s wedding, that’s the only reason?” he asked, looking completely unconvinced as he settled his hands into the pockets of his black tuxedo trousers.
Tykira’s temper flashed and she opened her mouth to retaliate. The sound of approaching guests stifled her remark.
Quay must have figured they would be less bothered if they hid in a crowd because he took her arm again and led her to the dance floor. He pulled her into a snug, arousing embrace. Reminding herself how much she despised him, Ty tried not to get lost in how fantastic she felt in his arms.
“How long do you plan to stay?” he asked, effectively casting a sour element to the dance.
Ty rolled her eyes while silently warning her hands to remain firmly planted against his chest and not to venture upwards to choke his neck. “I’ll be here long enough to visit my mother and your family.”
Quay tugged his bottom lip between his perfect teeth. “But not me?” he probed.
“Why you?” she threw back.
“Tyke…” he almost purred.
When his right dimple flashed, Ty realized that he was taunting her. “You still enjoy hurting me, don’t you?” she asked, hating the way her voice wavered on the question.
Something flickered in Quay’s black eyes but he masked it before it grew too telling. “Hurting you isn’t what I had in mind…unless you’re into that sort of thing now.”
In a flash, Ty jerked out of his arms and laid a cracking slap on the side of his face. Infuriating her more, Quay only grinned while brushing his knuckles across his jaw.
Ty shoved his chest. “You’re still the same conceited jackass you’ve always been,” she said, sounding as though the discovery really didn’t surprise her. Pressing a hand against her pearl choker, then brushing her fingers across the single button that secured her chic double-breasted jacket, she turned and made a regal exit from the dance floor.
The room was alive with laughter over the scene and as Ty exited the ballroom, she heard someone remark that she and Quay were like fire and gasoline—a volatile combination. Amidst all the amusement, however, she never saw that Quay’s eyes were filled with the darkness of regret.