Tango in Paradise (15 page)

“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.

“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 eyes 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.

“No. There was no point, Jack,” she added when he started to speak. “The subject was closed and he forbid me to speak of it again. But I couldn’t let it go. Not and live with myself.”

“You filed charges? Alone?”

The proud defiance in her shoulders was ruined by the hard cynicism in her eyes. “Oh yeah. I sure did.”

“Don’t tell me any more.”

Stunned by his fervent plea, it took a second before her entire posture changed. She started to bolt but Jack reached for her, grabbing her arm with just enough force to make sure she didn’t escape. “Don’t. Don’t you dare think I don’t want to hear because I’m ashamed.” He moved her chin with his other hand, all but dragging her gaze up to meet his. She was furious. Good. So was he.

“I’ve seen things, heard things, that would sicken you beyond all imagination. I don’t scare off easily, April.” Gentling his grip when a trace of fear crept into her eyes, he pulled her against him and held her as tightly as he thought she’d let him,
knowing he’d never be close enough until he was buried inside of her again.

He nudged her forehead with his nose, feeling exalted that she was holding him every bit as tightly, and whispered, “Sweetheart, I’m a journalist.”

She stiffened convulsively. He wasn’t surprised, so he waited for her to relax, knowing this part of it had to be dealt with now. Letting out a sigh of relief when her shoulders curved toward him again, he went on. “And because of that, I, better than most, have a pretty accurate idea of what happened to you. They made you out to be the worst kind of slut and dragged your reputation, and your family’s along with it, through the slime. And I don’t guess dear old dad was much help.” His tone was fall of contempt and disgust. When she’d needed him most, the man in her life had deserted her.

“No. His reputation in the business community was very precious to him and since he’d written me off, he moved quickly to preserve what he had left.”

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. So I guess the bastard got off and you came down here to spend time with your grandfather.” He set her back a few inches, his hands on her shoulders, needing her to look at him when he spoke. “Do you have any idea how much I respect you? Not only what you did then, but for what you’ve accomplished here?”

She didn’t answer, but her eyes filled with tears.

“Damn him to hell! Damn them both to hell!” Jack’s fingers tightened on her shoulders. “If it means anything to you, I want you to know that your response to me, the way you make me feel—”