Tango in Paradise Page 16

  April couldn’t contain her smile. “Leave it to Jack Tango to charm the publishing industry into backing him on a project no one else has been able to get more than an occasional pittance of a grant for in decades.”

  Jack’s slight smile disappeared at her teasing tone. “What if I told you I was funding this little expedition out-of-pocket.”

  Wary, April studied his face for clues as to where this was leading, but she couldn’t read much in his closed expression. “I’d say that it was admirable, and that if anyone could make such a time-consuming project pay off it would be you.”

  “Yes, it may be very time-consuming. And I have every intention of making it ‘pay off.’ ” Jack took a step closer to her, his eyes gazing so intently into hers she felt a physical pull. “Now that we’ve covered the unimportant stuff, would you like to know the unofficial reason I’m here?”

  Overwhelmed by the sudden fear that his reason wouldn’t be the one she so desperately needed to hear, she resorted to a brittle laugh and a toss-away line. “You want a cold beer, a shower, and two days of uninterrupted sleep?”

  “Those things are on the list. But not at the top.”

  “What …” Her voice faded to a hoarse whisper as Jack closed the remaining distance between them. “What’s at the top of the list?”

  “You. Under me. Preferably on a bed. For hours. Or for as long as it takes to make you understand that I am here to stay. That I’m yours, have been yours since the day you put your hand on my arm and offered to help me.” Jack reached out and traced a callused finger down the side of her face. “Do you still want me, mi tesoro?”

  The burning sensation that had begun when he’d first said “you” gathered strength until her eyes watered and a tear slid from the corner of each eye, “Are you sure, Jack? This is what you want?”

  “More than anything else in my life.” Without touching any other part of her, he leaned down and kissed the two tears gently off of her cheeks. “I love you, April Marie Morgan de la Torre.”

  Choking on a sob, April threw her arms around his neck and instantly found herself locked in a tight embrace created by the steel of his arms around her. “I know I should have trusted you, agreed to let you help—”

  “Shhh. I realize now that it was something you had to work out for yourself.” He lifted her chin until their gazes met. “I won’t lie and say it didn’t hurt. It hurt like hell.”

  “Is that why you left the folder?”

  “I thought I could walk away from it all; you, the story, all of it. But I was wrong. I hadn’t realized how much I wanted you to decide that I—we—were worth fighting for.”

  Wiping the tears from her cheeks, she said, “You were right about coming back. It was your belief in me as much as the information in that folder that made it possible for me to do what I did.”

  “Whatever the reason, I’m just glad you did. Do you know how proud I was of you for going back? The guts it took to take a stand without any backup? You were incredible, so poised …”

  “You saw the interview?” she asked, thrilled that he’d been proud of her. Then something in his expression, a subtle shift of his eyes, made her pause. And suddenly, understanding rushed in. “You were there. That day, on the set.”

  “I was.”

  “I knew it! You’ll probably think this is nuts, but I could feel you. I swore I actually saw you at one point, but …”

  “It’s not nuts. You looked straight at me. I almost had heart failure from the effect you had on me.”

  April suddenly pulled his arms. Jack loosened his grip somewhat, but didn’t let her go. “Uh-uh. You have a doubt, you ask me. I will always answer you honestly.”

  “When I didn’t hear from you, I thought it—we—were over. Why didn’t you try to see me? Talk to me?”

  “For the same reason I let you walk out of the bungalow that day. When I found out about the potential story, I was surprised at how badly I needed to follow through on it. After Oaxaca, I really thought that part of my life was over. On the trip back to the Cove, I had already started thinking of a way to make this Indian-story project work. But when I felt that old urge consume me, I knew I had no right to make any claims on you, or ask anything of you until I worked it out.”

  “Did you work on the story when you got back to L.A.?”

  “Day and night. It became an obsession to me.” Jack folded her back against his chest. “I had to make sure the bastard paid, even if it was only with his career. I wanted to make damn sure that if your name was involved this time around, you wouldn’t be burned again.”

  “How could I not be involved …” April jerked her head up. “You found Frannie, didn’t you? You got her to come forward.”

  “I found her, but I was planning on doing the whole interview through the papers, not television. As a matter of fact, I’d just located her the night before your interview.”

  “How did you find out—”

  “Your father called me,” he broke in gently. “He tracked me down in my office in L.A., said he thought I should know.” Jack traced her jawline with his finger. “You told him about me?”

  “I didn’t ask him to call you, if that’s what you mean.”

  “No, I knew you had no idea. You two mending fences okay? You glad you took the first step?”

  “Well, the fence was destroyed pretty thoroughly, so it will take a while to rebuild, but we’re trying. He’s coming down in a few weeks. As a matter of fact, I was just on my way to the gate to get some newspapers he sent down.”

  “You still want to do that?”

  “No, I think I’ve suddenly lost all interest in what they have to say.”

  The teasing light entered his eyes again and April felt her eyes well up once more. She’d thought she’d seen that look for the last time.

  “Here I am dying in the heat and you’re turning into a one-woman waterworks,” he teased.

  “I know it’s silly, it’s just …” She tried to get herself under control but found the task finally beyond her. “I never thought I’d see you again and … I love you, Jack Tango. I love you.”

  “Say that again. And again.” But he couldn’t wait. He lowered his mouth to hers, his kiss hot and hard. He kissed her relentlessly, pouring into it all the frustration and fear, all the hope and love he’d held in check waiting to hear those three words. He wanted to push his tongue deeper inside her sweet mouth, to absorb the taste and feel of her until it was a permanent part of his own essence.

  She responded instantly and the world exploded. Jack held her tightly against his chest and stepped back until he could lean against the side of the truck. He pulled her between his legs, reveling in the feel of her slender hips cradling his hardness. He pulled the pins from her hair and tossed them over his head into the open bed of the truck, then dug his hands under the swirling mass to gently grip her neck. Turning her face up to his, he proceeded to cover every inch of her face with his kisses.

  “You say you’ve lost interest in reading,” he rasped against her neck. “Anything else I can interest you in?”

  April smiled, breathing in the scent of his hair, gripping his shoulders tighter as he nipped at her earlobes and growled seductively in her ears. “Actually, the bed of that truck is looking pretty good right about now.”

  Jack’s head jerked back in surprise, then he grinned and let out a deep laugh. “I love it when you’re direct.”

  His teasing was contagious, and April wanted to steep herself in his special brand of loving that she’d missed so intensely. “I also know,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken, giving him the best CEO voice she could muster under the circumstances, “that you have this rather conventional taste for soft beds and clean sheets.”

  “Is that an invitation?”

  “Your bungalow or mine?”

  Jack’s eyes lost a bit of their twinkle and his voice became earnest. “Did you mean what you aid earlier?”

  “I love you, Jack. I want you h
ere as long as you’re willing to stay.”

  “Then I won’t be needing a bungalow.” At her raised eyebrow, he relented and smiled. “That is, unless yours isn’t big enough to hold all my equipment.”

  April smiled, then laughed as a feeling of pure light swept through her. “Is that a proposal?”

  “Not a well-said one, I’m afraid, but yes, it was.” Jack looked down at her face, rocked again by all that love shining in them—all for him. “Standing in that studio, listening to you—the courage it took … your voice, your laughter. I knew then that my need to do the story came from loving you, from the uncontrollable need to right the wrong in your life. I don’t need that part of my life anymore to make me whole. What I need is you. Marry me, April.”

  April’s smile was tremulous through her tears. Her heart so full she could barely speak, she managed, “On one condition.”

  Jack groaned and tugged her more tightly against the growing bulge in his jeans. “Name it.”

  “We get someone else to take the pictures.”

  Jack laughed hard as he hugged April closer. “Deal.” He looked into her eyes. “I love you, you know.”

  “Yeah,” she answered, suddenly serious. “I know.”

  Jack kissed her again, fiercely, gently, thoroughly, until he knew if he didn’t stop he’d take her right there on the pavement. He meant to let her go, but found he had to do it in stages. Pressing her shoulders back, but keeping her thighs trapped between his, he said, “In that case, would you help me?”

  April smiled. “If it means we get to go back to the Cove, I’ll agree to anything.”

  “I was counting on that.” Jack reluctantly shifted out from between her and the truck and reached down for his bags. Without comment, he handed her the silver case. “Carry this for me?”

  “It must be love if you’re trusting me with your equipment,” she shot back as she took the case from his hand.

  Jack chuckled as he hoisted the duffel onto his back, then leaned into the truck to get another smaller gym bag. He turned back to her with a smile and April felt her heart go right through her feet. “Play your cards right, Señorita CEO, and I’ll even let you play with my telephoto lens.”

  April lifted up on tiptoes and kissed him on the lips and whispered, “I can hardly wait to see what develops.”

  THE EDITOR’S CORNER

  Welcome to Loveswept!

  Happy New Year! Kick off 2013 with an e-original from Loveswept: debut author Wendy Vella’s sexy romance THE RELUCTANT COUNTESS–our second historical release! Set amongst the intrigues and scandals of London society, Sophie Countess of Monmouth is forced into playing a dangerous game to secure both her and her brother’s futures. She fears if anyone is to unmask and find the truth to her charade it will be the persistent Earl of Coulter, who is led to believe as well as the rest of the town that Sophie is recently widowed. Overly curious to the rumors that surround the Countess and even more enchanted by her beauty, Patrick is compelled to uncover the facts surrounding the mysterious Countess of Monmouth. I can’t wait for this release!

  And we have more fantastic books for you to start the new year. Donna Kauffman’s exhilarating WILD RAIN, Karen Leabo’s passionate Brides of Destiny story MILLICENT’S MEDICINE MAN, and three absorbing books from Linda Cajio: SILK ON THE SKIN, HARD HABIT TO BREAK, and THE RELUCTANT PRINCE.

  If you love romance … then you’re ready to be Loveswept!

  Gina Wachtel

  Associate Publisher

  P.S. Watch for these terrific Loveswept titles coming soon: In February, we have another alluring e-original for you, Sharon Cullen’s THE NOTORIOUS LADY JANE, Patricia Olney’s touching and funny JADE’S GAMBLE, Linda Cajio’s sexy STRICTLY BUSINESS, Sally Goldenbaum’s wonderful A DREAM TO CLING TO, and two enticing books from Sandra Chastain, LOVE AND A BLUE-EYED COWBOY and MIDNIGHT FANTASY. March brings some classics you’ll want to read: Patricia Olney’s moving and funny STILL MR. AND MRS., Juliana Garnet’s compelling and sensual THE BARON, Jean Stone’s exceptional and heartwarming FIRST LOVES, Linda Cajio’s extraordinary UNFORGETTABLE, and beloved author Iris Johansen’s brilliant AN UNEXPECTED SONG. Don’t miss any of these extraordinary reads. I promise that you’ll fall in love and treasure these stories for years to come.…

  Read on for excerpts from more Loveswept titles …

  Read on for an excerpt from Samantha Kane’s

  The Devil’s Thief

  London, June 5, 1817

  Chapter One

  The faint, metallic screech sounded as loud as thunder in the oppressive silence of the dark bedroom. Julianna froze, silhouetted by the moonlight against the back wall, the sudden noise stealing her breath away.

  “Unless you care to be shot this evening, I wouldn’t move from where you’re standing.” The deep voice was quiet but firm and it came from the shadows of the big bed.

  Julianna remained still as a statue, her mind awhirl. For a moment all was silent, but then she heard the bedsheets rustle and the mattress groan. She cast her eyes toward the bed, afraid to move even an inch. She could see from the man’s outline that he was now leaning against the headboard. His arm appeared to be resting on his upraised knee, but it was too dark to tell whether or not he was actually holding a gun.

  “You’re probably wondering if I do indeed have a gun,” he said nonchalantly, and Julianna had to suppress a gasp. How did he know? She closed her eyes and pursed her lips in annoyance at herself. Of course he knew. It’s what any halfway intelligent person would be thinking if they were discovered in her position.

  “Let me reassure you that the answer is yes.”

  His reassurance was hardly necessary, since she had already concluded that to be the case. In her experience, gentlemen were alarmingly odd, at least in most respects, so it was no surprise that this one apparently slept with a gun. Given his wild and reckless reputation, it would perhaps be more surprising if he did not.

  He snorted inelegantly from the bed, which amused Julianna in spite of the dangerous situation she was in. In that moment he didn’t sound at all like the Honorable Mr. Alasdair Sharp to whom she’d recently been introduced, but very much like an annoyed schoolmaster.

  “Stand up, for God’s sake,” Mr. Sharp ordered from the bed. “You look like a caricature of a thief, hunched over and creeping along the wall.”

  Julianna started to straighten and she heard another rustle from the bed.

  “Slowly,” Mr. Sharp admonished, and she froze again for a moment before straightening very, very slowly.

  “And now you must tell me what you found so irresistible in my bedroom in the middle of the night.”

  Julianna heard the amusement in his voice and it irritated her. So he found her amusing, did he?

  The slight weight in the secret pocket of her shirt burned into her side like a brand as she faced him. “Let me reassure you that it was the Stewart Pearl I found irresistible,” she retorted, “and nothing else.”

  As soon as she spoke she could have bitten off her tongue. Why, oh why did she always open her mouth before thinking things through? Surely he would recognize her now.

  “You’re a woman,” Mr. Sharp exclaimed in shock.

  Julianna closed her eyes in despair at her own foolishness. If she had kept her mouth shut, he wouldn’t have figured that out so quickly, maybe not at all. She was dressed in dark trousers and a dark shirt, her hair pinned up. In the dark she was certain she could pass for a man. The waning crescent moon outside barely gave enough light for him to see her. Even though her outburst had given away her sex, she refused to confirm it by answering him. She was light-headed with relief that he had not recognized her voice.

  “I thought you looked a little short for a man,” he mused, “but I imagined that you were an apprentice thief or some such thing. It never entered my head that you might be a woman.”

  Julianna had to press her lips together not to make a disparaging comment about the contents of his head, since it was clear
he had no idea who she was. It wouldn’t be wise in this situation, although it was her natural inclination.

  “Cat got your tongue, Miss Thief?” he asked, and Julianna shivered. She was not afraid of him—rather, she was afraid that she was losing control of the situation and of herself.

  He shoved the covers aside and rose from the bed, and Julianna almost squeaked in alarm. He was naked. The pale moonlight flowing through the open window fell across the floor at an angle, and as he stood next to the bed, the light shone on his very naked body, illuminating him from his flat stomach to his bare feet.

  His face was still covered in shadow, but Julianna remembered it from the many times she had seen him leaving his house and walking down the street, not to mention the party she had attended the other night. Mr. Sharp was a descendent of the Stewarts, all right: tall, handsome, with a high forehead and spectacular blue eyes. He looked just as the eyewitness accounts had described Bonnie Prince Charlie. She should have known from his firm, pointed chin that he wouldn’t be an easy mark. But she’d been distracted by his silky blond curls and those eyes, not to mention the width of his shoulders. Oh, yes, and, more important, the Stewart Pearl. At the party she had barely been able to take her eyes off the famous pearl, which sat in solitary splendor in a glass case surrounded by candelabra—gleaming, pale, and round and begging to be stolen.

  “So you want my pearl, do you?” he asked, his voice smooth and suggestive.

  Julianna’s gaze darted up to his shadowed face, but she could see nothing. The anger and amusement in his voice, however, had been replaced by something else. Something that made her distinctly nervous, considering that he was naked and she was caught.

  He slowly moved toward her. As he approached, she saw that he was indeed holding a pistol. She wasn’t all that knowledgeable about guns, but at that moment her primary concern was that the gun might contain a bullet, and she really did not care to be shot this evening. When he stopped in front of her, Julianna couldn’t take her eyes away from the gun.