Tango in Paradise Page 11

  “Sorry. You looked a million miles away. What were you thinking about?” Jack put his arm around her shoulders and herded her toward the taxi that was waiting about fifty feet away.

  The flush on her skin deepened. She knew it was silly of her, but she couldn’t come out and say she’d been picturing them in bed making love with wild abandon. “Just about the trip. I guess we should be getting to the hotel. Carmen made reservations at the El Presidente; it’s one of the nicest hotels in Oaxaca.”

  He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Does it have big beds and clean sheets?”

  She smiled up at him. Had he guessed her thoughts? “I should hope so. Why?”

  “If it has that and room service, I don’t care if it’s a Motel 6.”

  She laughed and watched the cabbie watching Jack load their luggage into the trunk. If a tourist showed the slightest inclination to help himself, most locals were more than happy to indulge them. Their driver was apparently no exception. “I wouldn’t count on room service if you need sustenance quickly.”

  Jack’s smile turned wicked as they climbed into the backseat. She moved to the far side to allow him some room in the cramped quarters, but he pulled her tight to his side. “If you’re in the room with me, I promise, I’ll never starve.”

  Out of the corner of her eye April noticed the taxi driver watching them in the rearview mirror. She shifted a micrometer away from Jack—all his grip would allow—and said, “Hotel El Presidente, 5 de Mayo 300, por favor.”

  She gave the instructions in her haughtiest CEO voice, but the effect was ruined when, in perfect Spanish, Jack added, “And there’s extra in it for you if you get us there pronto. Comprendes?”

  Apparently the cabbie did, because he turned his attention back to the road and floored the gas pedal. April would have been flung against the door as they careened out of the lot if not for Jack’s hold on her. “You might want to tell Mario Junior up there to slow down if you want us to get there in one piece,” she muttered, only half upset that Jack had taken over—again.

  “April?”

  “What?” she grumped, not trusting his soft voice.

  “Be quiet and kiss me. We’ll be there before I let you up for air.”

  As usual, he was right. But she didn’t mind so much this time.

  The El Presidente was actually a converted sixteenth-century convent, a fact that amused Jack to no end. His amusement faded, however, when he found that Carmen had booked them into adjoining rooms. Jack immediately asked for different accommodations, but this time April overruled him.

  He glared at her as she accepted the room keys, but kept silent until they were in their rooms. The only smile she got out of him was when she’d quickly stepped in and prevented the bellman from taking Jack’s silver camera case. Now that they were all alone, she wished she could think of something else that would make him smile again.

  Jack leaned back against the closed door, eyeing her as she stood in front of the window across the room. “Did I miss something?”

  She didn’t pretend not to understand. “No.”

  He pushed off the door and closed the short distance between them. “Then why the two rooms?”

  April shrugged but didn’t look away. “This is all still new to me, and I just thought it might be best if we had some space. I don’t know, just in case.” As her voice trailed off, she thought she saw the anger leave his expression and his eyes darken in concern.

  “In case I learn something in the next two days that would make me want my own room?” She looked away, and he reached out and pulled her to him by her upper arms. “Look at me.”

  She realized she must have mistaken the look of concern. His voice contained barely concealed fury. She looked up at him and it was confirmed by the icy paleness of his green eyes.

  “I want to know you, April. I intend to know you. Better than anyone else, more thoroughly than anyone ever will. If that idea scares you then join the crowd—it scares me too. But I’m not hiding, and I’m not running. The woman who kissed me under that tree wouldn’t either. That’s the woman I want.”

  Shaking with need and in fear of the wild emotions his heated statements had set off in her, she tried to pull out of his grasp. He wouldn’t let her go. “If you want to know me then you’re going to have to take all of me, Jack Tango. The woman who made love to you on her own desk is a very new part of me.” She didn’t have to add that it was a part only Jack had ever known; the flare of his pupils told her he understood that. “But I’m not into playing games either. I just know that there are parts of me, of my life, that may make you change your mind, okay? You ask me to trust you, and I want to. You want to talk scared? You don’t even know the half of it.”

  Anything else she was about to say was cut off as his mouth came down hard on hers. He kissed her as if his life depended on it, as if her life depended on it. She kissed him back because she was very afraid that one day it might, and that she couldn’t count on him being there then. He was here now, and that had to be enough.

  Jack moved from her lips to her throat; he pulled her arms around his neck and moved his hands down her sides to her hips. The fear in her voice when she’d lashed back at him had been expected, and still he’d felt an overwhelming urge to carry her to the bed and push deep inside of her until she never doubted him again.

  It was the certainty in her voice, however, that caused a cold finger of dread to creep into his heart. What if she didn’t let him help her? And, God help him, what would he do if she asked him to and he didn’t know how?

  He yanked his lips from her shoulder and forced himself to gentle his grip. He pulled back and waited until she looked up at him. Her eyes were huge and such a deep shade of brown, he thought he might drown. He felt his heart drop to his stomach at the trace of resignation he saw in them. “Tell me, April,” he commanded, his voice made harsh out of fear. “It’s the only way I can prove to you I won’t run. And I don’t think this relationship can go any farther until you know that.”

  Her bottom lip, reddened from his kisses, trembled slightly, and he damned himself for putting her through this.

  “Okay. But not this minute. I need—”

  Her voice broke off in a strangled cry and Jack pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, then pulled her head to his chest. Wrapping his arms more tightly around her, he whispered, “Yeah, it’s okay. I know.”

  He dropped soft kisses on her hair and stared out the window behind her into the waning Mexican sunshine. “Listen, why don’t I get out of here for a while. I’m sure you have some heavy-duty planning to do for the meeting and I’d like to explore the area and set up a few shots for tomorrow.”

  After a pause she said, “All right.”

  Her voice was rough with unshed tears, and it took all his will to let her go. He scooped up his canvas bag and quickly loaded it with the few things he’d need for his scouting trip. “I’ll probably be out till dark. If you want, I can have them send up something for you to eat.” He chanced a look at her. She’d turned her gaze out the window. “Or we can have a late meal out somewhere. I’ll find a place while I’m out.”

  His easy manner cost him a great deal, but it was worth it when he saw the tension in her shoulders lessen as she relaxed slightly. “Sounds good. If I get hungry before then I’ll call for something.” Her voice was softer, but she kept her back to him.

  With nothing else to say, Jack walked to the door.

  “Jack?”

  Her voice stopped him and he turned to find her facing him. “Yeah?”

  “Thank you.”

  The words wobbled, but her face was a mask of strength. In that moment Jack admitted to himself that he loved her. “We will talk when I get back.”

  “Yes.”

  “And I’m canceling the other room. We will share the same bed.” He left the room, his hold on his control not strong enough to wait for a response. He almost fell to his knees when her whispered response reached his ears anyway.
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  “I hope so.”

  EIGHT

  April crumpled the sheet of paper containing her tenth try at a coherent speech for the meeting tomorrow and aimed it at the small wicker basket she’d moved closer to the coffee table. She couldn’t get Jack’s parting words out of her head. She jumped at every sound outside the door and her gaze kept straying to the clock on the table by the wall.

  Where was he?

  She pushed herself off the low couch and paced the length of the room, massaging her lower back as she went. She peered out the window to the street one story below. It wasn’t dark yet, but it was getting close.

  April fought down the frustration that had been steadily increasing since Jack had taken off. Deep down she knew he’d been trying to help, to give her the space she’d asked for. But the minute the door had closed behind him she’d wanted to run after him and beg him to listen. Sitting here for several hours had only provided her with too much time to go over in infinite detail all the horrible events she thought she’d blocked from her mind forever.

  Senator Smithson’s off-the-cuff comments about Markham possibly tossing his hat in the presidential ring had been bad enough; having to deal with Jack’s all-too-perceptive gaze on top of it had made repressing her past again impossible.

  She paced over to the small refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of mango juice. The tangy flavor only served to remind her taste buds of the fact that she hadn’t eaten since the light snack Jack had brought along on the drive to Santa Cruz. Lord, that seemed like days ago, instead of hours.

  She plopped down on the couch again and pulled a throw pillow onto her lap, fiercely concentrating on untangling the gaily colored tassels that adorned the corners and avoiding the clock, the window, and the door. Maybe Jack had left her alone for the precise reason that he’d known she’d rehash her past over and over, so that by the time he came back she’d be dying to get it off her chest. As farfetched as this sounded, she sensed it was the truth. It irritated her further to admit that, if that was his plan, it had worked.

  “Dammit, Tango! Where are you?” As if her words had summoned him, the door to the room swung inward and he ducked his imposing frame inside.

  “Miss me?” Jack poured his heart and soul into a charming smile, hoping she wouldn’t notice the questions he couldn’t keep out of his eyes.

  “Yes,” she answered simply.

  If that one quietly spoken word hadn’t been enough of a clue to her inner thoughts, the pile of crumpled notes in the wastebasket and the fact that she was all but twisting the fringe off the pillow clutched in her lap erased any doubt. He forced himself to cross over to the small desk and relieve himself of his gear before going to her.

  He’d made it back across the room but came to a stop on the opposite side of the coffee table, unsure of how, or where, to start. Frustrated by his uncustomary loss for the right words, he jammed his hands into the pockets of his shorts and waited for her to say something, praying it would help to guide him. Dammit, he shouldn’t have left her alone!

  “Are you thirsty? There’s some juice in the fridge.”

  It wasn’t exactly the information he’d been looking for, but it told him enough. “No. I found a cafe in the zócalo that looked good. You want to go out for a while?” Before we talk? This last question might as well have been said out loud, for he knew she had heard it as plainly as he had.

  “Not unless …” She put the pillow beside her in a very specific manner, as if it were a shield being lowered. She looked back up at him, her expression closed, but steady. “No, I don’t. I think we should talk first.”

  “Okay. I don’t think they take reservations anyway.” His attempt to lighten the mood failed and his smile slid from his face. “Where do you want me to sit?”

  The question seemed to take her by surprise; then she answered, “I think, maybe, next to me. Is that all right?”

  It was a tiny crack in her composure, but a telling one, and Jack felt his heart begin to pound. “That’s better than all right.” The words came out deeper, a bit rougher, than he’d intended, but he didn’t care. He sat on the couch next to her, close enough to touch her if he wanted to. Or if she needed him to.

  “Do you want to ask me questions? Or—”

  “I want to know what happened, April. What made you leave the U.S. ten years ago?”

  “I want to tell you, need to tell you. But I have a question first: Why is this so important to you?”

  Jack immediately understood what had prompted the question and damned himself for feeling hurt and angry that she doubted him. Apparently she had good reason to, so he tamped his feelings down and answered her as honestly as he could. “This is not Jack the journalist wanting to know your sordid past.”

  His muscles clenched when he saw her flinch at his unwitting choice of words. He had to ball his hands into fists to keep from dragging her into his arms and kissing her, making love to her until no trace of doubt was left as to his motives. He swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, that was unintentional.”

  He focused his gaze on hers, willing her not to look away as he continued. She didn’t. “And that’s part of why I have to know. Something has hurt you—hurt you so deeply that you’ve forced yourself to diminish beautiful, natural qualities in you in order to protect yourself. Until now. I’ve seen them, April. I want them. I want you to want them. Until I understand how the two parts of you mesh, and why they exist in the first place, I can’t be sure that I won’t say or do something indirectly that will hurt you.”

  His voice had dropped further, becoming very intense as he willed her to believe him, trust him—knowing with a fear he’d never felt that she could, but might choose not to, and that there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. “I don’t want to hurt you, mi tesoro. I want to help heal you.”

  Her eyes became glassy but her gaze never wavered. “Okay.”

  He watched her hands unclench and thought she would reach for his, had purposely put them on his knees within easy reach. But she turned to look at the wall and the door to the hallway. Digging his fingers into his kneecaps, he waited in silence for her to start.

  “Back in the States, I used to work for a large hotel chain. My father had various business dealings with the chain owner and after I’d gotten my degree in hotel management, he arranged for an interview for me. I, uh, started as a reservation clerk and worked my way steadily into management.”

  Jack noticed she hadn’t named names and wondered who she was protecting. Still, he remained silent, experience telling him that it would all come out if he could just be patient. It was the hardest assignment he’d ever given himself.

  “I’d been working for … the hotel, for about five years when …” Her voice faded away and her gaze shifted to her hands.

  “It’s okay, April. Take your time.” He watched her draw in her breath and straighten her spine somewhat and had to stifle the gentle urge to grin. Whatever had happened, her pride had survived the battle. He ignored the clutch near his heart.

  “My boss made advances toward me and I turned him down.” It all came out in one unbroken rush. She darted a quick glance at him but hurried on as if she knew she’d be able to get through this only once and didn’t dare give him the chance to stop her. “This went on for a while. Each time it … each time I politely declined he became uglier. I really thought he’d move on to someone else.”

  She ducked her head for a moment and rubbed her hand over her face. When she continued, her voice was softer, but laced with a thread of steel that was like ice piercing cotton. “Unfortunately, he did. I found a coworker of mine in the bathroom while on break one day. She, uh, she was in tears, almost hysterical.”

  April took a deep breath and faced him. Her skin was white, her eyes were hollow. “He’d raped her. In his office, he’d pulled her down and—” Her voice died on a choked sob.

  Jack tried to pull her against him but she pushed him away with a hard shove. When she continued her ey
es were hard and furious. “I urged her to come forward, told her what had happened to me and that together we could nail him. But she wouldn’t do it. She was afraid to shame her family and she said she needed the job.”

  “What did you do?”

  She went on as if she hadn’t heard him, but Jack wasn’t offended. He knew the look of cold fury in her eyes wasn’t directed at him but at the son of a bitch she’d worked for.

  “I told my father—something I should have done earlier, but I thought I could handle it myself. He was my dad’s friend and I guess I didn’t want to hurt my father by telling him. In retrospect I guess I was also ashamed, like it was my fault somehow.”

  Jack’s grunt told her what he thought of that theory, and she looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time in the past several minutes.

  “You have to understand that my father comes from the old school. Oh, he has respect for women—as long as they stay in their positions. My mother had died when I was a teenager and he held her up as a constant example to me. My mom was also from the old school that said a woman’s sole function was to cater to her husband, family, and home—in that order. As you can imagine, we argued frequently.” She allowed herself a small smile at that, but it quickly faded. “So you can see why I kept quiet. But after what happened to Frannie I just couldn’t. I felt like it was my fault because I hadn’t told someone sooner.”

  “What did your father do?”

  “Well, he … he …” She looked away briefly, blinking at the moisture that coated her eyes. Looking back at Jack, her tone strong if somewhat wavery, she said, “He didn’t believe me. He said I was mistaking a family friendship for something dirty. He blamed my insistence on living on campus while I was at college. According to him, campus life had put my mind in the gutter and nice girls didn’t talk like that.”

  “Did you tell him about your coworker?” Jack’s heart was pounding and he had an intense desire to go out and beat the living daylights out of someone. He had gone right past impartial listener to primal human with a need to avenge his own.