Tango in Paradise (5 page)

He pasted a smile on his face and yanked up his damned cummerbund again. The absent Steve had apparently taken advantage of the daily buffets during his tenure as staff photographer. As Jack adjusted the tripod, his gaze scanned the crowd, instantly zeroing in on April with an unerring accuracy he’d given up trying to figure out hours ago. He watched as she smiled and skillfully moved from one cluster of reception guests to the next, leaving smiles in her wake. The lady knew how to work a room. Her guests were content.

It came as a bit of a shock, but for all his grousing, so was he. He’d convinced himself he’d
only jumped on the crazy trade idea as a way to get the attractive CEO to spend some time alone with him. Although he had to admit it was a rather unique predicament for him.

He watched her smile fade a bit as she lifted her one and only glass of champagne and surreptitiously surveyed the crowd, and admitted to himself that his physical response to her was only a small part of it. Even with her diminutive stature, she had this incredibly dynamic presence, not surprising considering she ran such a successful resort. Yet there was an underlying sense of something being wrong. Something very much like fear. But fear of what? His journalistic instincts hinted that she must be hiding something. Or from something.

Earlier at breakfast, he’d sidestepped her questions about his cryptic statement regarding his dispensability by getting her to explain her reasons for needing his help. As she’d explained the details, she’d seemed very concerned. Too concerned for what had to be just another typical problem in an operation this size.

He watched as April lowered her glass without tasting the expensive wine, her gaze raking over the crowd again. He started to follow her gaze, automatically trying to determine what she was looking for, then abruptly stopped. “No, I am
not
getting involved here.” Cursing Franklin for sending him here in the first place, he turned back to the group
assembling before him and forced his mind to the task at hand.

Grimacing, hoping it passed for a smile, he ran off two shots of the grandmother’s brothers on the bride’s side, then paused while someone went off in search of the groom’s great-uncles or whatever. He turned to check on his film supply, praying it was near an end, and caught a brief glimpse of April as she crossed the lawn to shake hands with the bride and groom. She smiled, then laughed at something the groom whispered in her ear.

Without thinking, he raised the camera hanging around his neck and ran off a few shots. Her face, flushed with laughter and happiness for the newlyweds, was a surprising revelation. It occurred to him that, while she’d always been polite, and had even smiled at him, he’d never once seen her look so … carefree.

What had happened to make a woman so obviously warm and sharing by nature suppress those traits and hold herself apart? He’d known her less than twenty-four hours and he’d already seen all the signs. He was intimately familiar with them. They were the same ones that stared back at him every time he looked in the mirror.

“Excuse me, young man, but could you please get a picture of us? I’m certain Deborah would want it for her album.”

“Huh?” was Jack’s less than professional reply.
He jerked around to find a group of elderly women, all clad in what could only be described as wedding muumuus, smiling up at him. “Why certainly, ladies.”

Jack smiled in relief at the diversion, instinctively switching on the easy charm he’d long ago developed as a tool to maintain the crucial mental distance between photojournalist and subject. Smile and the world smiled with you, that was his motto. “The wedding album wouldn’t be complete without a shot of such a lovely group.”

An hour later, Jack was swearing quietly and quite fluently in several languages, all pretense of patience close to being gone as he waited for someone to track down dear old Aunt Minnie for what would absolutely be the final photo—at least if he had anything to say about it.

Never, ever again would he let some pushy, raven-haired sprite, with eyes that held way too many secrets, con him into doing something like this. Never mind that the trade was his idea. No payoff was worth this sort of pain-in-the-butt work.

As he waited for the group in front of him to get organized, he found himself scanning the crowds again. It was then that he noticed April on the receiving end of a hug from Senator Smithson. And hating it, given her pale, tight-lipped expression. All of his journalistic instincts should have gone on
red alert, but they were detoured around a sudden intense rush of…

What, Tango? Protectiveness? Jealousy? Come on, he argued with himself, the man’s old enough to be April’s father. Or a friend of her father’s. Jack’s professional instincts rebounded into instant sharp focus.

He motioned to Alejandro, who’d come to help after his shift in the dining room ended. Honestly not caring whether Aunt Minnie’s head made it into the photo or not, Jack quickly went over what to push and where to aim, then grabbed a more powerful zoom lens and exchanged lenses on the camera around his neck.

Jack quickly skirted the small crowd, careful not to jostle any elbows or trays of drinks in his efforts to get a clear view of April and the good Senator before they finished their conversation.

Senator Smithson was holding her at arm’s length now, as if admiring either April or her dress. Jack had already given his seal of approval to the stunning fuchsia dress. The halter-style top showcased the graceful curve from neck to shoulder, and the full skirt swished just the right amount to make him harden up whenever he caught her walking away from him. He made a quick mental note to pull the shots he’d taken of her this afternoon before giving the proofs to the bride.

Jack moved in behind the long tables that had
been set up to hold the assortment of finger food and the elaborate wedding cake. He trained the lens on April’s face, zoomed in, and brought it into focus. Senator Smithson blocked his view for a second. When he drew back, Jack went completely still—still in the way only someone who’d tiptoed through war zones could do so completely. His instincts hadn’t failed him. Her skin was as bright as her dress.

Jack responded instantly. He quickly started around the tables. Never taking his eyes off her, he swore silently at the seemingly endless array of food.

Smiling, Smithson made another remark, apparently unaware of the effect his words had on her. Then Jack saw her sway as if her knees had buckled. That did it. With one hand planted firmly between the tray of quesadillas and the French tortes, Jack vaulted over the table in a graceful leap.

April felt a callused hand grip her elbow and turned to find Jack smiling at her. He’d materialized out of nowhere. Before she could say anything, he pulled her closer and put a supporting arm gently around her waist, clamping his hand on her hip and extending his right one to Senator Smithson.

“Lovely wedding, Senator. You must be proud.” Jack pumped the man’s hand exuberantly and anchored her hip more firmly against his thigh.

Looking nonplussed, the silver-haired gentleman slowly recovered. “Yes, Deb is my only daughter.
Don’t believe I caught your name, young man.” His gravelly Texas drawl was as thick as the lenses of his glasses.

Jack watched closely as the distinguished politician squinted his magnified eyes, damning himself for not thinking clearly enough to realize the Senator might recognize him. His assignments were usually international and rarely involved U.S. politics, but with modern technology the world could be a rather small community.

“Aren’t you—”

“The resort photographer? Why, yes. Ms. Morgan hired me personally just to do this wedding.” He dropped Smithson’s hand and lifted the camera dangling from his chest as if to prove his statement.

“Yes, well, I’m sure you’re doing a fine job.”

Jack breathed a small sigh of relief as the Senator’s expression once again became that of a proud father.

“I confess I just bankrolled the shindig,” he went on. “Martha—that’s the wife—she handled all the details.”

April was still leaning on him, a surprisingly overt show of need for her and one he’d bet his prize Hasselblad she’d regret later. But it was enough to decide him on his course of action.

April was confused by Jack’s behavior, but she was too busy praying the old man would just go
away to worry about it. Another minute and she’d pass out just from the stress of keeping a smile on her face. Jack suddenly loosened his grip and she shifted more heavily against him.

“That’s right, lean on me,
mi cielo
,” Jack whispered in her ear as the Senator droned on about his daughter. “Trust me.”

She stiffened and tried to pull away. “Thanks, but I can han—” Her whispered response was cut off as Jack tightened his hold and shifted his attention back to Smithson.

“You know, Senator. I don’t believe I got a shot of you and your lovely wife. Martha, is it?” Jack linked his arm through the unwitting politician’s gesturing one, and deftly steered both the older gentleman and April back to the refreshment table before either could protest.

“As a matter of fact, I think—”

“Now, let me get Ms. Morgan here a plate,” Jack interrupted the politician smoothly. “I’m sure you know all about workaholics, Senator. Never make the time to eat. If it wasn’t for her staff, Ms. Morgan would just waste away.”

Jack kept up the nonstop stream of bull and April was too caught off guard to stop him. Besides, after the bomb the Senator had just unwittingly dropped on her, she gladly accepted Jack’s unspoken offer to run interference for a few minutes. Before she knew it, she was seated in a folding
lawn chair with a plate of food in one hand and a cup of punch in the other. By the time she balanced everything and looked up to thank Jack for coming to her rescue, he was halfway across the lawn, still towing the Senator in his wake.

April absentmindedly bit into the cheese-filled tortilla as she watched Jack corral an elegant platinum blonde she recognized as Martha Smithson and proceed to charm her as well. Just how he had known the precise moment April needed him she didn’t know. But she wasn’t foolish enough to think his help came without a price.

Several times during the ceremony, as well as during the reception, she’d turned to find his intense gaze focused on her. She’d stopped questioning how she always knew it was him. The idea that she was just as intrigued by him as he apparently was with her was just too unsettling to even contemplate.

She forced her gaze away from his tall, lean figure and back to her plate. It didn’t help. She couldn’t erase the gorgeous picture that was Jack Tango in black tie and tails. So what if the jacket pulled too tightly at his shoulders and the back seam looked as if it would split each time he leaned over to line up a shot? So what if his cummerbund kept slipping down his lean hips, constantly drawing her eyes to the fit of his pleated pants? All men looked good in tuxes.

It was the fact that she kept picturing Jack Tango out of his that disturbed her.

And he’d called her
mi cielo
again. The last time she’d heard that endearment, before meeting Jack, was permanently seared in her brain. Her father had used his pet name for her almost mercilessly while trying to persuade his daughter not to file sexual harassment charges against her boss, Alan Markham. Markham also happened to be an investment partner of her father’s, not to mention a newly announced candidate for the state senate.

He’d stopped using any pet names long before her case came to trial. Then his reputation had been dragged through the mud right along with hers. The names he’d used after that were far from endearing. Now he didn’t call her anything at all.

And now, ten years later, she had to come to grips with the fact that Alan Markham, the man she’d unsuccessfully tried to keep out of the senate, the same man who had pulled out all the stops to humiliate and degrade her in front of an entire nation, was about to announce his candidacy for president of the United States.

Her food lodged in her suddenly constricted throat. She had to get out of here. Placing her half-eaten quesadilla back on her plate, she handed both that and her cup to a passing waiter. Rising, she motioned to Carmen. After making sure everything was under control, she quickly found the newlyweds
and said her good-byes, though she doubted they’d even remember later. They’d barely unglued their eyes from one another since the bride had taken her first step down the aisle.

Ignoring the rush of melancholy that accompanied that thought, she scanned the crowd for the Senator and his wife. It would be less than polite to leave without saying good-bye and personally checking to make sure they weren’t in need of anything else, but she wanted desperately to avoid any farther contact. She finally spied them about ten yards away.

They seemed preoccupied. Not surprising; Jack was still with them. She ducked her head before he could turn and find her staring at him and quickly left by the side lawn. Her mind was still reeling, and more than anything she needed to get away from everything and everyone to clear her head. Not stopping to wonder who she was avoiding more, the Senator or Jack, she ducked into the cool hallway and hurried toward her office.

Jack looked up from his conversation with Mrs. Smithson just in time to see April duck into a side door.
Damn
. He wanted to go after her. Instead he forced himself to take another sip of ice-cold water. He’d have plenty of time to find out what had happened between the Senator and April. He glanced at his watch. Five hours’ worth, according to his calculations.

He just hoped she didn’t plan on pulling any stunts to get out of fulfilling her part of the bargain. Because, whether she knew it or not, they had just passed the game-playing stage of their relationship.

In the meantime, he planned to make the most of his conversation with the Senator.

April turned up the path to bungalow 14, the desire to run in the opposite direction growing stronger with every step she took. She went over again what she planned to say to Jack. She hadn’t seen him, not even a glimpse, since she’d fled from the ceremony two days ago. She’d told herself she was relieved. She hadn’t been kidding about having a packed schedule.