Tango in Paradise (18 page)

“Might be a little cramped but—”

“Jack!” April tried for indignant but her laugh
ruined it. Besides, it would require an Oscar-winning performance to act shocked at anything he could toss at her after spending a good portion of the last two days naked in bed with the man. “I’ve already been away almost two days. As it is Carmen is probably frantic and I’m sure—”

“You know perfectly well you’ve trained your people so well that the resort could almost run itself.” He looked over at her and laughed at the mock look of indignation on her face. “Hey, that was a compliment, you know. Besides, I did say ‘almost,’ didn’t I?”

After their laughter faded, they settled into a comfortable silence for the next twenty minutes or so, and even the jolting ride couldn’t prevent April from allowing her mind to drift into figuring out how they might possibly make their relationship work. What Jack said about the resort almost running itself was true to a degree. And after their talk the day she’d found his pictures, it seemed as if he was looking for a change. But even if he didn’t return to the same type of journalism, it didn’t mean he wasn’t planning on returning to the States. After all, everything else he had was there. Friends, family, other job opportunities. Everything. Everything but her.

For the first time in years, April wondered what it would be like to go back herself. It had been such a long time, she thought, but with Jack by her
side she knew she’d be strong enough to face her old ghosts. All thoughts of the upcoming presidential race and Markham’s possible bid slid from her mind. The thought of his gaining any more power sickened her, but after all, she could hardly change things by coming forward with ten-year-old claims that had only managed to destroy her the first time around.

Surely she could go back to the States with Jack and maintain her anonymity, she told herself. And with his type of work, surely they could work out some arrangement to spend time in both Mexico and the States.

“Do you ever think about contacting your father?”

The question gave her a start at the same time the truck hit a bump, and her head knocked against the door frame. The pain that shot through her head effectively wiped out the shock of his unexpected question.

“Are you okay? I didn’t mean to startle you. I guess I was wrapped up in my thoughts and didn’t realize how that would sound.”

“I’m okay,” she answered, absently rubbing her scalp until the slight pain receded. “You did startle me, but I guess it’s a fair question.” She didn’t tell him how her own thoughts had strangely paralleled his. “I didn’t for a long time. But after Grandpa Morgan died, I gave it a lot of thought. Paradise
Cove was well on its way to becoming a success and I wasn’t as threatened by the idea of my father’s power.”

“But you didn’t.” It wasn’t phrased as a question.

“No, you’re right, I didn’t. But it wasn’t out of fear, or even residual anger. I even understand, given his background, how he came to the conclusions he did. I just can’t seem to get past the sense of betrayal.” She shifted to look at Jack. “Aside from my grandfather, who was thousands of miles away, my father was all I had left, Jack, and he threw me to the wolves. I guess I can’t forgive him for that.”

“I can understand,
mi tesoro
. I don’t see my dad or my brother much, but just knowing they are there for me is sort of grounding. A sense of home, I guess. It just seems like such a waste for both of you.” She turned back to face the window. “I won’t mention it again.”

They rode for several more miles and April tried hard to mentally recapture the light, teasing mood that up to that point had been a part of their return trip. Her thoughts seemed doomed to stay dark, though, as she helplessly found herself counting the number of days Jack had left at the resort. All the negative questions she’d forced from her mind regarding where they would go from that point surfaced, threatening to swamp her. Did he
even want her to go back with him? Would he want to try and find a way to make their relationship work?

The sudden swerving of the truck onto the side of the road jolted her out of her painful thoughts. “What are you doing? Did we blow a tire?”

“The tires are fine. And before you ask, we have plenty of gas.”

“Then why did you pull over like it was some dire emergency?”

“Because it was. It is.”

His oblique answers did nothing for her sudden need to unleash her temper, but he spoke before she could explode.

“Is Carmen expecting us back at a real specific time?”

“No. She and I both know better than to try to stay to any kind of exact schedule regarding travel in Mexico. Why?”

“Because,” he said softly as he grabbed her hand. He opened his door and pulled her across to the edge of the seat.

“Okay, I give. Because why?”

“Look.” He turned and pointed to an outcropping of rock that thrust over a slight decline pointing toward the ocean. “I found us some shade. Rest-stop time.”

Turning back, he stared at her, smiling and shielding his eyes from the bright midday sun with
his hand. After a long moment she answered him with a slow smile of her own. She put her hands on his shoulders, intent on hopping down, but he put his hands on hers, stopping her.

“The ground has too many loose rocks. Here.” He turned and presented his back to her.

“Here, what?”

“Are we going to stand around doing bad Laurel and Hardy impressions all day or do you want a piggyback ride?”

“Well, why didn’t you just say so?”

He chuckled and reached back, but she didn’t hop right on. “Now what?” he asked over his shoulder.

“Well, my shoes might not be made for rock climbing, but this skirt is definitely not made for piggyback rides.”

He turned and April knew she should’ve jumped down at the first sight of the wicked grin on his face, but his big hands clamped down on her thighs, blocking her escape. Jack made a quick survey of the road, knowing full well there probably wouldn’t be another car for an hour, then slid his hands, and her skirt, up to her hips. Pretending not to hear her sudden gasp, he turned and backed up until his jean-clad rear end was pushed up against her silk bikini underwear. He reached back and pulled her legs around his hips. “Hold on.”

She did. And when he issued that same command
some minutes later in the protective shadow of the large boulders, she didn’t have to be told twice.

As she turned onto the pathway to Jack’s bungalow, April reached up and pulled the ebony stick from her hair, then quickly finger-raked the tangles loose. Smiling like an idiot and not caring who noticed, she hopped up the steps onto the porch.

They’d been back for five days. And five glorious nights. Jack had insisted on keeping his bungalow, which had initially made her wonder if he’d wanted to distance himself from her now that they were back. He hadn’t let her wonder for long. And now she had to admit she kind of liked the challenge of reworking her schedule to fit in surprise visits to the intimate hut.

She’d looked around the grounds, but hadn’t spied Jack anywhere. “He just has to be here,” she whispered fervently. She had finagled an entire hour off and she refused to spend it alone. She forcibly pushed away the thought that Jack’s vacation time was nearing an end. Just because he hadn’t actually said he was staying didn’t mean anything. Neither had he said he was leaving, she firmly reminded herself as she pushed the screen door open.

“Jack?” Her call met with silence, but her grin
broadened as she heard the unmistakable sounds of the shower. She recalled the day, which now seemed light-years ago, that she had faced down a dripping wet, barely clad Jack over the photos he’d taken of her at the wedding. It all seemed so ridiculous now. Now she knew he’d never hurt her.

Deciding that she could use a quick shower herself, she stepped toward the bathroom door, only to stop short at a sudden rapping on the door behind her. She whirled around and found Dom smiling at her.

While she hadn’t made any secret of her relationship with Jack, she had really thought she’d managed to sneak away unnoticed. But she knew Dom would handle himself professionally, so she did as well. Smiling brightly, as if she were in the middle of her office instead of a guest’s private bungalow, she said, “Hi, Dom. What’s up?”

“
Hola, Señorita
April. There is no problem. I have mail for Jack. He asked for me to bring it right away.”

“Thank you. I’ll make sure he gets it right away.” A trace of uneasiness crept into the older man’s expression, surprising April. Assuming he was merely taking his responsibility seriously, she hastened to assure him, “I’ll tell him you delivered it yourself. Thank you, Dom.” Her words hadn’t relieved the man, but her tone, though kind, made it clear that his responsibility
was done. She took the flat brown folder from his hands, careful not to dislodge the yellow note tucked into the band that secured it shut.

“
Gracias, señorita
. Please tell
Señor
Jack that the envelope was badly torn when it arrived and Eva tossed it out. I am so sorry.”

Aha, so that was the problem. “Don’t worry about it, Dom. I can’t see how that will hurt.”

Dom nodded and April watched him turn and move down the path in what was almost a trot. Her smile faded as quickly as her curiosity over her concierge’s odd behavior, her attention immediately drawn back to the banded folder.

What in the world had Jack been expecting? She stiffened suddenly. Was this from Franklin? It might even be his next assignment. Feeling her knees begin to wobble at the unwanted intrusion of Jack’s other life, she made her way to the small couch and plopped down, resting the folder on her knees.

The urge to look inside ate at her. Surely Jack would tell her what was inside when he looked at it. There was no need for her to look. April’s curiosity waged an intense war with her trust in Jack until she realized she’d worried the yellow note that had been tucked under the band into a wadded ball in her fist.

“Oops.” She hurriedly began smoothing it out against the flat surface of the folder, but stilled
as she saw her name scrawled across one line in unfamiliar handwriting.

Any doubts as to her right to read the note disappeared. If it was about her, she had every right to read it. Smoothing the rest of the wrinkles as best she could, she began reading:

Jack
,

Leave it to you to find the story of the century in the middle of nowhere! I should have known better than to think you’ve actually been resting down there. How on earth did you manage to locate April de la Torre, for God’s sake? At first I thought you had gone off the deep end when you had me check out that old Texan, Smithson. You could have provided me with a few more details, but I’m sure you had your reasons. After all, I guess it isn’t easy to hide an investigation from the CEO of the resort
.

No, she thought wildly, resisting the urge to tear the damning note to shreds. Jack wouldn’t do this to me. There must be an explanation. Forcing the bile back down her throat, she made herself finish the letter, praying that she’d understand by the time she got to the end.

I’m honored that you thought enough of my investigative skills to put two and two together. The word is that Markham is very close to announcing his bid—I hope the postal service gets this to you in time. You scoop him early on in the race and you’re looking at another Pulitzer, my friend. Vaya con Dios, buddy, Frank

April tossed the note to the floor as if it had burned her fingers. Fighting to keep calm, trying desperately to find any rational explanation, she lurched up from the couch and paced to the bedroom door, then back to the front door. The urge to run was very strong and she felt all of her old self-preservation instincts rush back to the fore.

She distantly realized that the shower was no longer running and she knew that she couldn’t leave without facing Jack. Not without hearing his side of the story.

She turned away from the door and found Jack lounging in the doorway to the bedroom, the white towel draping his hips forming a strong contrast to his tanned chest.

He said nothing, but his expression made it clear he knew something was terribly wrong. Using every last scrap of control she had, she calmed her breathing and schooled her expression into one that announced it was willing to listen.

“While you were in the shower, Dom brought the mail you were expecting. He, uh …” She felt her eyes burn and she took a deep breath to steady her voice. “The envelope was ruined. Franklin stuck a note to you under the flap. I wouldn’t have read it, but I saw my name and …”

Jack levered himself off the door frame and walked to the couch a few feet from where she
stood. She silently handed him the folder, then crossed her arms.

“Where’s the note, April?”

“On the couch.” She’d expected him to grab it and read it. Instead he just put the folder on the couch on top of the crumpled note, then turned back to face her again.

“What could Franklin have said to make you this upset? The information in that folder was stuff I requested ages ago, after the wedding.”

April’s eyes widened in shock. It was true then? He’d been digging as far back as the wedding? Her mind ran wild. Had he somehow been responsible for her photographer leaving so he could neatly fill in?

Finally Jack snapped. He lunged for her and grabbed her arms. “What in the hell is wrong with you? I can’t help you unless you tell me!”

She turned glassy eyes at him, then dropped them to his grip on her arms. “Let me go.”

“So you can run? No. You tell me first what has got you so scared.”

“Let me go, Jack. I’m not going anywhere until you explain why in the hell you’ve been having me investigated.”

He dropped her arms, but didn’t step away from her. She forced herself to hold his gaze, but she didn’t see guilt there. If she wasn’t mistaken she saw anger, with a good bit of hurt thrown in as well.

“Why would I do that? You had to know that when you told me in Oaxaca what happened, it was the first time I’d heard it. After all we’ve shared together, what else is there for me to dig up?”