Taming the Tango Champion

by Cait O'Sullivan

  So when she had expressed a desire to finish her year-long travels by riding through the Andes, Matthias, naturally the best rider on his ranch, booked her on the three-day trek with the proviso that he would give her permission to take one of his horses only if he went as guide, instead of the less experienced one she’d booked. It had been a deal breaker and Ava had been wise enough to go with it.

  When they started the trek, he was already a little bit in lust with Ava.

  A black speedboat cut through the stretch of water in front of his apartment and brought him back to the present. But he had worn a condom as he always did. But condoms aren’t one hundred percent safe.

  He stared out. The view was tame, domesticated. Albert Bridge to his right was starting to light up with a pink dusk descending onto the rooftops of London. Pretty sprang to mind, but pretty didn’t ignite fires. Give him the white-tipped peak of Aconcagua any day over this teeming, industrious city. Raw beauty seeped from the mountain range, the trees, rivers and waterfalls transforming everything in its path into something spectacular. Ava fit there better than in this city.

  He stood and held in the cool air until his lungs were close to bursting, and then exhaled.

  Did he really have a daughter?

  His mind rebounded from his musing, seeking solace in denial. Of course not. He didn’t want children. She wasn’t his.

  Otherwise, Ava would’ve told him. Wouldn’t she?

  Chapter 3

  “Sorry, luvey.” Caroline’s voice was full of cold, but Ava detected her quiet determination. “Felicity released your names to the press after you left. Even if I wanted, I couldn’t get you off the pilot. You have cold feet, kiddo, that’s all. Don’t worry, you’ll be great.”

  “But Caroline—” Ava stopped. What could she tell her? She had fallen in love two years ago? With the father of her baby, a man she had abandoned after a night of passion because the level of attraction rendered her a gibbering wreck. If she had stayed, things would have become too complicated. And now, coincidence to end coincidences, that man happened to be a judge on the pilot series? Yeah right. She could hear Caroline telling her to back off from the show for sure. Caroline, the lady with the firm belief that fears were there for the confronting.

  “Yes?” Her voice was brisk, and Ava could hear her tapping on a keyboard.

  “Don’t worry. I’ve got to go if I don’t want to be late.”

  “Good luck!”

  The phone line went dead, leaving Ava alone with her thoughts and a squirming Bella.

  Had she done the right thing when she discovered she was pregnant? She sighed. She never had been able to reconcile her heart and her mind over the decisions she’d made, especially leaving Matthias after that one glorious night.

  He had told her he didn’t believe in love or its trappings though. But she might have changed his mind. Her heart joined in on the debate and she became stuck in relentless spinning thoughts once more. What would’ve happened if she had stayed?

  To compound matters was what she had done when she knew she was pregnant. For once, both vital organs had been in agreement and she’d flown back to Argentina, wings on her feet, to tell Matthias he was soon to be a father. She had planned to tell him he was the one man to make her feel alive, dammit, and that she’d been mad to leave him. Her entire heart and soul were on offer. Only to have her world crumple when she stopped at a store on her way to the ranch. Mathias half-smiled at her from the front page of the newspaper. By his side was a woman Ava had seen at the ranch. Nausea encroached. On auto-pilot she had bought the paper and stared, tears forming at the back of her eyes. Beatriz held her hand to the camera, face wreathed in a smug smile. For there, on her left hand, sat a huge diamond ring.

  Ava’s heart had plunged into a bucket of ice-cold water and started to freeze. Not allowing herself to think beyond the mechanics of getting home, safe secure home, she left Argentina.

  The pain of seeing his engagement photo hadn’t healed. Even after two years, the memory still had the power to suck the air from her lungs. She hugged her hurt close. To tell Caroline would be to share it, which would lead to her getting over her failed love affair. She needed the pain. It served as a good reminder to protect her heart from Matthias de Romero, the father of her baby.

  What was she going to do? Embrace the pain perhaps, rather than run from it. Running from it certainly hadn’t helped this far. Heck, did she really have a choice?

  Much as her heart recoiled from telling Matthias about Bella, her head remained steadfast.

  * * * *

  Ava ran up the steps to the dance studios into a light, airy reception. A pretty girl behind the desk with upswept curly brown hair and sparkling green eyes picked up the phone and announced her arrival to someone, probably Luca. Smiling her thanks, Ava paced the room, perusing the photographs of dancers on the wall. Fear twisted her tummy. How was Matthias going to react? She’d spent the previous night staring into the darkness, running explanations through her mind, practicing what she was going to say. No matter what words she chose, it was only in her deepest dreams the conversation had a happy-ever-after.

  She examined the lithe and beautiful dancers. Would she ever be any good? On the plus side, at least the hard work may distract me from the white elephant taking up space in my brain.

  Luca appeared, a huge smile on his face. If she stopped comparing him to Matthias, he was really rather handsome. Dark eyes happily greeted hers as she placed her hand in his and leaned in for a kiss. He showed off his dancer’s body without being obvious in faded soft denims and white tee, and she relaxed infinitesimally. Being with Luca was going to be fine.

  “Come on, I’ll show you our home away from home for the next six weeks. Would you like something to drink?” He took her jacket while they walked to their studio. She had chosen comfortable clothes for the first day, leggings and warm boots, with an off-the-shoulder baggy tee shirt covering her camisole, her hair tied in a high ponytail. Luca looked askance at the boots, before opening the door with a flourish, ushering her inside.

  “Here, my darling, we have more shoes for you.” He handed her a shoebox. “Many pairs to come.”

  “Thanks Luca. I’ll have a coffee please.” She smiled determinedly. This was going to be fun. It was. Honestly.

  Luca walked over to the stereo in the corner, which stood near the water machine. “The first dance is the waltz, which has the least steps of all the dances, only three, to learn. Have you ever danced it before?”

  “Not seriously, no.” Ava perched on a chair, slid her feet out of her comfortable, worn-in boots, and strapped the new, inflexible silver shoes on. She grinned to herself; her footwear could be analogous with her life.

  Voices outside the door broke through her thoughts. Now she was here with no escape, her stomach muscles clenched. The door opened in slow motion and a trolley appeared, pushed by a young girl. Ava exhaled slowly.

  “Did you order coffee?”

  Luca walked quickly over and took two mugs from the tray. “Thank you, you were very fast.”

  Ava kept an eye on the door, absentmindedly. If she reacted like that every single time someone came in, her nerves would be rubbed raw by the end of the day. Relieved Matthias hadn’t come through the door, but disappointment tipped her reprieve. Would he be coming to see her? What was he doing? Was he in the building?

  Of course, she could ask Luca, but didn’t want to flag her interest to anybody. It had only take thirty seconds in his presence to realize anew the depths of her attraction to him, dammit anyway.

  Luca brought the coffee over and handed her one mug. “We will practice first to ‘The Blue Danube’ by Strauss. It is a very common waltzing tune, but when we go live on Saturday, we will dance to ‘Love Me Tender.’”

  Ava smiled. She liked both tracks and, keen to get started, took a drink of her coffee, only to set the mug aside and open her arms to Luca.

  “You are good, a natural.” He complimented her as
Ava chewed her inside cheek, focusing on where to put her feet. She nodded inattentively. One, two, three. One, two, three.

  The hours flew as Ava focused on getting her steps right. As the morning stretched into afternoon, her muscles unclenched and the hand gripping Luca’s no longer turned white. She blessed the concentration needed; it stopped her dwelling on Matthias.

  She could enjoy this.

  “What do you think you are doing?” A commanding, Argentine accent rang out over the music.

  Matthias.

  His voice catapulted Ava back in time. No longer the dance studios, but his riding school. Ava in a heap at his feet after falling off Red Sox, a placid old mare.

  Blood grew wings and flew around her body, fizzing uncontrollably. Forgetting to breathe, she drank him in. He stood, framed by the doorway, dressed in a black t-shirt and pants. Folded arms showed off his broad chest and shoulders, and despite her inner voice shrieking at her to stop, she couldn’t help but stare. With an insouciant grace, he pushed himself off the door jamb and prowled toward them both. Did this man have everything? The thought scattered any hard-won focus before she could stop it.

  Yet his thunderous face made her step closer to Luca, and she gently massaged the tense muscles at the back of her neck in a vain attempt for relief. Heck, just for something to do, somewhere to put her hands, because all of a sudden she was awkward, a gangly teenager unsure of where and what to do with her limbs.

  “This move is not a good one to practice until you have mastered the basics and I can see you have not.” Matthias snapped his fingers at Luca. “Replay the music, please.”

  Ava didn’t have time to gasp at his audacity, and judging by the haste in which Luca sorted out the music, neither did he.

  An inscrutable expression on his face, Matthias’s stare traveled the length of her legs, flicked over her waist, dwelled momentarily on her rapidly rising and falling breasts and came home to her face.

  Telling herself firmly not to return his glance was akin to stopping the Niagara Falls. Heavy-lidded green eyes sent volts of desire through her to crumple any remaining resolve. Light stubble graced his jaw, reaching to strong cheekbones and his full bottom lip had her licking her own. Black suited him, the tee shirt taut to show off his chiseled abs.

  Ava tried to swallow with a dry throat, conversely feeling perspiration on her forehead. In the absence of a towel, she rubbed her forearm across her forehead. Matthias pushed his hair back with an impatient gesture and held an impeccably rigid arm out.

  What, he expected her to dance with him? She hadn’t anticipated that. Hope leapt within her even though the simple thought of being in his arms could cause her knees to buckle.

  Uncertainty, and worse, passion for the man standing in front of her, clashed like cymbals, making her head spin.

  “Can’t—” She stopped, for her voice emerged too weak. Clearing her throat, she tried again. “Can’t Luca and I practice and you tell us what to do?” Bad though it would be, the alternative was far worse. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Luca watching nervously. A quick glance at Matthias resulted in heat flooding her. And that was just a look, what would it be like in his arms?

  He raised an eyebrow. Chicken, his eyes told her.

  “Fine.” Matthias nodded brusquely to Luca and retreated to the side of the room with the bar. Leaning against it, he folded his arms and raised an eyebrow, making it clear he expected nothing but the worst.

  Luca proffered his arms once more as the strains of “The Blue Danube” filled the air. Ava shut her eyes and willed herself to feel the music, find the rhythm and to flow with it.

  Chance would be a fine thing.

  “Enough.” Matthias’s voice brought them to a halt after a mere thirty seconds.

  “Luca, if you will do the music for us please.” He nodded to Luca, and held his arm up for Ava.

  She couldn’t move. She knew being in those arms again would be sweet torture. Her body ignored her mind’s pleading and stepped into Matthias’s space, taking a short, sharp breath as his full presence reached out to encompass her. The bright lights in the studio flickered the moment Matthias encased her palm in his. Sparks nigh-on crackled up her right arm to leave the hair on her very head standing upright.

  It was happening again.

  The intense physical attraction hadn’t died, had instead laid dormant, quietly multiplying until it got the chance to re-emerge, stronger than ever. Unsure if she could bear the pain without crumbling into a million little pieces, she stalled. Matthias tugged her strongly into his embrace and placed his hand on the small of her back, branding her like he branded the cattle on his ranch. He held her hand out in an arch. She hesitantly put her other hand on his left shoulder, feeling the unyielding strength in his upper body. The compelling, spicy scent of him she had never quite forgotten but had never quite recalled, brought new, inciting memories of their wonderful night.

  Did he remember it? Longing filled her from images of them together, and she tipped her head to look into his eyes, instantly wishing she hadn’t. For the coldness there chilled her to the bone. Sadness crept into her soul. He hated her.

  Not that she could blame him; she had left him. But he had found comfort in another woman’s arms very quickly. Perhaps he had never left them except for a brief fling with her. The thought gave her strength. Stiffening her spine, she flexed her right arm to stay strong in an arch and tilted her chin to stare blindly over his right shoulder. The music started and Matthias led her in a couple of steps. Only to frown as her eyes dropped. He stopped with a click of his heels and released her.

  “Look at me.” He crooked a finger under her chin and brought her gaze to his.

  Did he know what he was doing to her? Those three words in his dark, sultry accent pulled the thread of her memory of that night until it unraveled, spilling images into her mind’s eye. Images she had only revisited in her dreams, for no woman would want to torture herself by going over them consciously.

  “You look into my eyes, then over my shoulders. Try again.” Matthias blithely ignored any discomfort, forcing her to continue while he fired orders. “Rise and fall like the ocean coming in to shore. Loosen up.” Finally, and most galling. “Relax.”

  Like I can do that when A—I’m in your arms and B—telling someone to relax actually works. Wasn’t it scientifically proven to do the opposite?

  “Focus.” Matthias sounded almost gleeful as he threw the word at her. “Again.”

  This was insane. Like when he taught her to ride—see where she had ended up. Other, more salacious thoughts aside, she had managed her horse better with him as her coach. Much as it annoyed her to acknowledge it, she could learn from him. Her competitive streak emerged. She shook out her arms and legs to rid the tension that had accumulated like lactic acid in her muscles.

  Luca restarted the music and Ava held out rock-steady arms. She moved her feet shoulder width apart, poised. Lightly tilting his head, Matthias gave a brief, approving nod and swept her into his arms. Could she help it if her skin thrilled to his touch? To counteract the headiness, she counted silently to herself. One, two, three, one, two, three.

  “The steps should appear effortless.” Matthias pulled her closer. “Promoting a gentle, swaying action, a lilt.” He swung her around, her feet stepping rapidly to catch up with his. In her haste, she stepped on his foot.

  “Sorry.” She tugged herself out of his arms, the reprieve sitting sweetly with her. Glancing over at Luca, she was surprised to see a half-smile on his face. What on earth was he thinking? She walked over to the water cooler, breathing deeply.

  “Come.” Matthias’s authoritative tone called her back. Her feet complied even before her brain had registered his words.

  “What has Luca told you about the waltz?”

  “Um, a bit.” But don’t ask me what, for I can’t think.

  Matthias pulled her into his arms, hand pressed against her back, keeping her lower body firm against his. Kne
es betraying her, she had no choice but to lean against him. If she moved her head a fraction, she could capture his lips with hers and cling to him, allow the pent up frustration and unrequited love to fall. She would be reborn to emerge from her long sleep.

  Hungry for his love.

  Something in her registered the sight of Matthias’s lips moving. Her heart hammered so hard she had to take deep breaths, thus pushing her breasts further against his hard chest.

  “Did he tell you that the waltz was once declared immoral and Louis XIII had it banned from court because partners had to hold each other in too close an embrace? Hmm?” His quiet voice so close to her ear sent shivers racing down her back like wheat sheaves rippling in the wind. She was alive for the second time in two years. Accepting her situation, she closed her eyes and allowed her body to automatically follow his lead. Seamlessly, they swayed around the room.

  “Immorality, now there’s an old-fashioned word. There are few things describable as immoral in this day and age, aren’t there?”

  The combination of his words and the edgy tone in his voice brought Ava out of step and she stumbled. What was he getting at? Bella?

  Oh my God. Did he know?

  “Silence? Something to hide Ava?” Razor blades entered his voice.

  Courtesy of the bleak adrenaline coursing through her veins, her throat resembled sandpaper. She couldn’t reply. After waiting a brief moment, Matthias brought them to an abrupt stop. “You’ll be fine.” He swung her from him and let go of her hand. Unexpectedly alone, she reacted a brief second too late and struggled to regain her balance, twirling toward the mirror. Yet the further from him, the more her mind shed the Matthias-induced-fog, allowing composure back in. Relief strengthened her limbs and she threw him a surprised smile. Her brief lull at being out of his arms slammed to a halt at the cold in his eyes.