Tango in Paradise

by Donna Kauffman

  Jack froze in mid-stride. She was pale and stiff then, too, but he hadn’t been the cause. Smithson. What in the hell did Smithson have to do with April’s father? Or her past?

  Jack sat down on one of the wicker bar stools by the counter that separated the small kitchen from the dining area and pulled a pad of resort stationery in front of him. He jotted a few notes, mostly impressions of the Senator and April and the conversation between them that had precipitated his intervention.

  He paused in his writing, tapping the pencil against the paper. His instincts were running on fall alert. The problem was that where April was concerned, he wasn’t sure if his instincts were journalistic, or protective. Either way, he added another item to the mental to-do list he’d started the second April had left the bungalow.

  One of those items was to find out what sort of communication equipment the resort had. He wanted to do some preliminary checking on the Senator.

  But the first item on his list was making sure he was penciled into April’s schedule as soon as possible. She hadn’t been gone ten minutes and he already missed her.

  “Señor Jack took care of it.” April chanted the phrase for what had to be the twelfth time that morning. She was beginning to think it was the new resort slogan. The pattern had become alarmingly clear over the past forty-eight hours, and April ground her teeth in frustration.

  “Is no problem, sí?” Antonio looked worried.

  “No, no problem,” April reassured him, holding in her sigh until Antonio flashed a smile and turned back to the other tables. After all, it wasn’t the maitre d’s fault if one of the guests, namely Jack, decided to take it upon himself to soothe the ruffled feathers of a fellow, or rather female, guest who’d become outraged when Antonio had inadvertently dumped an entire platter of freshly cut pineapple on her lap. Poor Antonio had probably been distracted by the same generous cleavage that had prompted Jack to come to the rescue.

  Not that she cared in the least what he did or with whom, she just didn’t like the way he’d managed to magically appear every time one of the guests, usually female, developed some urgent problem. He was supposed to be here relaxing, wasn’t he?

  She supposed she ought to be happy, ecstatic even, that he was putting his incredible charm to good use. Her daily agenda was impossible enough, and by taking care of those pesky but oh-so-important little squabbles that were routine in a resort this size, Jack had actually given her more time to concentrate on some of the weightier issues she faced. Like getting the outside landscaping firm she’d hired to agree to let the local Indians help with the actual physical labor.

  April’s frustration with Jack couldn’t be averted even by that headache. She clenched and unclenched her fists. Several times. It didn’t help. She still wanted to punch him, and she was a card-carrying pacifist, so she knew she was bordering on unreasonable. Hell, she acknowledged, adding a mumbled Mexican curse, she’d passed that point about three “Señor Jack took care of it’s” ago.

  She forced her hands to uncurl and laid them flat on the table beside her, wanting to sip her tea and pretend a calm she still didn’t feel, but afraid she’d crush the delicate china. Face it, she told herself, what you’re really angry about is the fact that you’ve spent a large part of the last two days reliving how great Jack’s arms felt around you, relishing the feel of that hard, firm chest pressed against your cheek, and … oh hell, and that during the darkest part of those hours you wondered just what he’d taste like.

  And Jack had apparently decided that his idea of fun was becoming a one-man customer relations squad. She didn’t even want to speculate on what kind of relations he’d had with those customers—her customers!—that had so effectively kept the guests, at least the female ones, so unusually complaint-free for the last two days. She groaned and dropped her head into her palms.

  She knew the second she was no longer alone, because the hairs on her neck lifted in the familiar way they did when Jack was anywhere in the vicinity. She’d had to accept this disturbing phenomenon as foolproof. Every time it had happened over the last two days, she’d looked up to find him nearby, usually talking to other guests, occasionally lining up intricate shots with his camera equipment. She wasn’t sure why it bothered her so much that he’d made no effort to speak with her. He usually settled for a wave; at the most she got a smile and a quick nod.

  It didn’t matter, she thought, reminding herself how mad she was at him. She lifted her head slowly. Still foolproof. By now, however, he was much closer; he was sitting right across from her at the patio table where she’d been trying to eat lunch. She didn’t trust herself to speak, so she settled for trying to burn holes through his damnably sexy, white polo shirt with her eyes.

  “Have a minute? Mind if I join you?”

  April opened her mouth and closed it again, then looked around to make sure most of the late lunchers had left the side patio before risking a response. Just to be on the safe side, she put her newly curled fists into her lap.

  “You know perfectly well just how many free minutes I have and if you’re here for a thank-you, then consider yourself thanked.” She clutched at the linen napkin in her lap and tossed it on her uneaten lunch, rising at the same time. “I’m sorry if I seem abrupt, but I’m sure there are still one or two things that need my attention around here.”

  Jack fought his smile when she lifted one beautifully arched brow as if waiting for him to confirm or deny her assumption.

  Highly underrated features, eyebrows. He wished he’d brought along his Nikon. But no, the glittering golden eyes below those lush brows made it crystal clear now was not the right time to suggest a photo opportunity. “Well, if you’re not too busy, could you be persuaded to join me for lunch?”

  She started to mention the obvious, but he silenced her by reaching over and lifting the napkin off of her still full plate.

  “Pierre having an off day?”

  April’s lips twitched despite her fierce attempts to focus on her anger. She was still mad at him, but when his lips curved in that oh-so-innocent smile, she was hard put not to give up being angry and smile back.

  Just to prove to him she couldn’t be bought off with something as trifling as a sexy smile, she said, “If he were, I’m certain you’d have handled it by now.”

  His eyes widened as if she’d surprised him by continuing to snipe, then he ruined her triumph by actually having the gall to wink at her!

  “Sorry, señorita, Pierre’s on his own. I pack my own lunch.”

  April leaned over the table to glance at the ground near his chair. Nothing. As if guessing the direction of her thoughts, he raised his hands. Both were empty.

  “I wasn’t sure if you’d come, so I left the basket back in my bungalow.”

  April actually snorted. Very unladylike, but under the circumstances, highly appropriate.

  “What was that for?”

  “You expect me to believe you’ve been running around playing majordomo for the past two days just to be turned down after all your hard work?”

  “You’ve heard the ‘lunch basket in my bungalow’ routine before, huh?” His green eyes twinkled and his smile split into a full grin. “Damn, and I thought my plan was foolproof.”

  April couldn’t have prevented the smile curving her lips for all the tortillas in Mexico. “Win some, lose some.” She tried for a casual shrug, but Jack had skirted the table and taken her hand in his before she could blink.

  He leaned and whispered in her ear. “I guess I’ll have to resort to plan B.”

  April conceded defeat, forcing herself to admit it hadn’t left even a trace of bitterness in her mouth. “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s plan B?”

  Jack tugged her hand a little harder and started out across the lawn, heading toward the guest bungalows. “Did I ever mention that one of my ancestors was a pirate?”

  She laughed despite herself. She had no trouble picturing a swashbuckling Jack, complete with black eye patch. “No. And what do
es that have to do with plan B?”

  “Kidnapping. A family tradition.”

  April’s step faltered a bit, but Jack just tightened his grip and steered her around the tall hedgerow separating the lawn from the paths that wove throughout the resort compound.

  “And did your ancestors kidnap unwilling women and hold them prisoner on their own ships? Unwise move, don’t you think?”

  Between one breath and the next Jack pivoted and pulled her into the shady seclusion of the jacaranda trees. He turned so his back was facing the path, sheltering her from view. He gently pulled her closer, then draped her arms across his shoulders and linked his hands behind her waist.

  Locking his gaze on hers, he said quietly, “Who said the women were unwilling?”

  April didn’t answer. His heated voice made her think of sizzling, sun-filled days and steamy tropical nights. She knew from the heightened intensity of his gaze that she’d already incriminated herself.

  “Are you willing, April? Say yes. I spent two whole days being a good boy, but if I have to spend one more second wondering what you taste like, I’m likely to disgrace my forebears right here in the woods.”

  Fleeting thoughts of where she was and how she should be behaving became a memory as his raspy plea vibrated through her. His quiet humor enchanted her, relaxing her in ways she hadn’t allowed herself the luxury of in years. But it was the glitter of desire electrifying his light green eyes that created a need in her so strong nothing else could compete with it.

  “Is this taste test part of your lunch menu?” Feeling anything but casual with him, she tried to match his whimsical humor, but feared the quiver in her voice betrayed her need.

  His ragged sigh bolstered her confidence.

  “An appetizer. Only an appetizer.”

  He unlinked his hands, shifting her more tightly against him with the arm that was still wrapped around her waist, and using the other hand to slowly twine a stray curl around his finger. Keeping his eyes locked on hers, looking at her with such intensity she thought she’d simply ignite if he didn’t kiss her soon, he leaned closer until his lips almost brushed hers.

  “I need you to do one thing for me.”

  Surprised at the request, but somehow thrilled at the prospect of being needed by him, she wet her lips and answered, “What?”

  “Kiss me first. I have to know you want this as much as I do.”

  April answered with the first thing that entered her mind. “Gladly.” She tightened her fingers, which had somehow managed to work their way into the thick hair curling at his nape, and gently tugged his head down until she could lift up on her toes and reach his lips with her own.

  His lips were softer than she’d thought possible, like warm velvet. She probed gently at first, reveling in the musky taste that was him. A small part of her realized he was holding himself perfectly still during her exploration, and she began to think her rusty attempts had turned him off.

  She started to pull back, only to feel the arm behind her back tighten. He lifted a hand to cradle the back of her head and her motions stilled as she felt the slight trembling of his fingers as he wove them through her hair.

  “That’s right, April. Don’t ever doubt your effect on me.”

  Her hands slid down from his shoulders and neck to clutch at the front of his white shirt. She tore her gaze away from his and tried to focus on the dark blond swirl of hair peeking from the opened buttons at his neck, but the feel of his heart pounding under her fingers proved a greater distraction.

  Jack watched her pupils dilate even further as she caressed the fabric stretched over his heart. Sweet mercy, she was going to kill him right here.

  “April, mi corazón, you can study the fine Korean craftsmanship of my shirt later.” She looked up at him, confusion clearly written on her face. “Is it my turn yet?” he asked.

  April had no idea how he managed to blend fierce protectiveness, intense desire, and a trace of raw vulnerability in that one look. She barely managed to nod yes.

  FIVE

  April held her breath as Jack lowered his head, her eyes slowly closing. A second later she opened them again. “Jack?”

  He studied her in silence for another second, then said, “Not here.” He gently lifted her arms from his neck, but captured one of her hands as he turned to leave their shaded hideaway. He guided her onto the path, then loosened his grip but didn’t drop her hand completely. “Meet me at my bungalow in about ten minutes, okay?”

  April knew she looked as confused as she felt. “What? Why?” Her brows furrowed in the beginnings of anger. “I thought the game playing was over. If this is your idea of a jo—”

  Jack gently squeezed her hand, then dropped it. “What this is, is my idea of protecting your reputation as boss of this joint.”

  “You didn’t seem too concerned about that when you dragged me across the lawn,” she shot back, partly angry, but mostly frustrated. She didn’t have to admit that the frustration was mostly sexual in nature; she could hardly deny it. “I’m not just boss here, I own ‘this joint,’ as you so quaintly refer to it. And if I want to be seen holding hands or doing anything else with a guest then it’s nobody’s business but my own.”

  Jack looked surprised, then a wide smile split his tanned features. “So, you make a habit of this, then?” He ducked her halfhearted punch, but caught her fist, his big hand completely encompassing hers. He didn’t pull her closer, but the intimacy reflected in his eyes effectively erased the distance. “I still want you to give me a few minutes’ head start.”

  “If you’re worried about your housekeeping, I’ve seen it, remember?” she said dryly.

  Jack actually groaned, and groaned again when she arched that brow at him. “I’m trying to be a gentleman here, but you’re making it hard.” He gave a short laugh at his unintentional double entendre and turned her hand so he could lace his fingers with hers. “Which is precisely why I want a few minutes alone.”

  “Why now? A second ago I could have sworn—”

  His voice quieted to a whisper. “Do you have any idea what I wanted to do to you under that tree? What I would have done if I’d started kissing you?”

  April felt a surge of heat and something like pride course through her. She’d put that look of wanting, of desire, on his face. It shocked her. It also thrilled her. “Probably the exact same thing I was hoping you’d do.”

  Jack swore and dropped her hand like he’d been burned. “Fifteen minutes, April.” His voice was strained. “I swear, lunch was my original intention, my only intention. But if I see you any earlier, we go straight to dessert. Understand?”

  Empowered by his reaction to her, April merely smiled. Forcing back the grin that teased the corners of her mouth, she nodded, then watched him retreat down the path, his long-legged, smooth stride covering the ground quickly.

  April turned around and faced the lodge, blotting the image of those intense green eyes from her mind, trying to focus on what had really just happened. She should probably be embarrassed by her behavior, she belatedly realized. But she wasn’t. Being aggressive was nothing new to her—building this resort had made that trait a necessity. But then this wasn’t business, she argued with herself. This was personal.

  And in that respect, she had to admit her reaction was way out of the ordinary. In fact, she’d never done anything like it before. After her pride had been destroyed during the harassment trial, April had shied away from all relationships. Gradually she’d learned to trust again, but by then building the resort had taken over her life. Her immediate reaction to Jack had taken some getting used to.

  The grin she’d been suppressing slowly spread across her face. Jack Tango liked being in control. She perfectly understood that need. She hadn’t had much chance to put it into practice relationship-wise, but she’d vowed the day she decided to come forward with her charges against Markham that any relationship she did have would be equal risk and aboveboard—with no chance of one person holding
the upper hand. It was the only way to remain safe.

  Safe. That word didn’t seem to fit Jack. Always cool, sexy, and so damned sure of his charm. But unless she was completely off the mark, her little speech just now had actually made Jack Tango nervous.

  The very idea made her skin tingle.

  Jack punched his key card into the lock slot on the bungalow door. Once inside he went directly to the kitchen. He methodically began sorting through the contents of the basket he’d packed earlier, forcing himself to concentrate on making sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. It was no use. He slammed the wicker lid down and paced around the room. After several paths to the window and back he collapsed onto the small couch.

  No matter how he tried, he couldn’t reconcile the troubled, skittish woman he’d comforted in his arms on this very couch two days ago with the sexy, confident lady who’d looked into his eyes not five minutes ago and basically stated she wanted him as badly as he wanted her.

  He was having a hard enough time figuring out what to do with all these new protective feelings she inspired in him. He’d known from the moment he’d decided to pursue her she’d need the kid-glove treatment. Something was eating at her, and he knew he’d better damn sure take it slow if he wanted to keep her from shutting him out. So what in the Sam Hill was she doing telling him it was okay to all but make love to her under a tree in broad daylight for chrissakes?

  Jack groaned and let his head drop back on the edge of the couch. “Women.” Minutes later he opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. “Franklin, you owe me for this one.”

  “What does Franklin have to do with this?”

  Jack snapped his head up. April was standing in the doorway. “How did you get in here? Never mind, stupid question,” he added, seeing the master card in her hand. It bothered him that he’d somehow lost the upper hand.