back into her.
But he wanted an equal participant when they kissed for the first time. They both deserved nothing less. “Can I trust you to stay here for a few moments while I change?” Her reaction was as swift and sharp as he’d hoped it would be, but he wished he could have kissed her instead.
She took two steps away from him, brown eyes narrowed in anger. “If you knew me, you wouldn’t have had to ask,” she retorted, tossing his words back at him.
Without a word he turned and left the room. He closed the bedroom door and rested against it. The tempest was still present. Whatever he’d said or done to cause her to momentarily cave in hadn’t completely doused the flame burning between them.
Jack let out a soft, self-deprecating laugh as he crossed the small room. He was here to rest, to give his body and soul some downtime and to decompress a little. So what did he do? He went right off and did what he’d managed to avoid in his entire thirty-five years on the planet. He’d gotten involved.
“Bad timing, Tango,” he muttered. But he knew he had no choice. Like it or not, April Morgan had his complete and total attention.
Jack loosened the knot in the towel, letting it drop in a heap on the tiled floor. His smile returned as he grudgingly accepted the inevitability of his involvement. April didn’t know it yet, but she’d just gained a formidable ally.
And a very determined future lover.
FOUR
April waited the space of a single heartbeat after hearing the click of the bedroom door before backing up a step and sinking down onto the small sofa.
Just who in the hell is Jack Tango anyway? she wondered, trying and failing to come up with an easy answer. He infuriated her with his blunt, overconfident remarks, mystified her by reacting to her cool comebacks with an approving glint in his eye … and scared the living hell out of her by reducing to ashes, with no more than a hint of a smile and a few softly spoken words, her firm decision to remain untouched by him.
She tried to gather her wits and form them back into her earlier resolve, but her gaze kept skippingback to the bedroom door, her mind to the man behind it. She never once looked at the door to freedom.
She saw the doorknob twist and experienced a similar feeling in her stomach. Jack stepped into the small living room, his face concealed by the white towel that he was using to dry his hair with. He stopped after a step or two and slung the towel in the general direction of the low wooden table in the breakfast nook that, along with a tiny kitchen, formed the other half of the bungalow.
He was wearing a rumpled cotton shirt in a wild native print and faded red shorts just brief enough to keep her staring at the tanned, slightly hairy expanse of muscular thighs and calves underneath the tattered edges.
“Thanks,” he said.
She yanked her gaze up to his, expecting to find a smug smile plastered on his sexy face at being caught gawking at his legs. Instead his expression was carefully neutral. “For what?”
“For being here. For wanting to stay and work this out.” He turned toward the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, “I meant to restock the fridge yesterday; all I have is beer. Want one?”
“No. Thanks. I still have work to do this after—” She gulped as her gaze moved automatically from watching his backside to observing the bunching of his bicep as he twisted off the cap of his beer.“—noon,” she finished weakly. This was insanity. And it had just gotten worse; this time he’d caught her looking.
She averted her gaze and cleared her throat to speak, but Jack cut in before she could begin. It was just as well. She didn’t have a clue as to what she was going to say anyway.
He perched on the arm of the couch at the opposite end from her. “Don’t you ever take some time off?” He tilted the bottle up and swallowed a long draft before looking back at her.
She knew she was in trouble when she didn’t respond
But he wanted an equal participant when they kissed for the first time. They both deserved nothing less. “Can I trust you to stay here for a few moments while I change?” Her reaction was as swift and sharp as he’d hoped it would be, but he wished he could have kissed her instead.
She took two steps away from him, brown eyes narrowed in anger. “If you knew me, you wouldn’t have had to ask,” she retorted, tossing his words back at him.
Without a word he turned and left the room. He closed the bedroom door and rested against it. The tempest was still present. Whatever he’d said or done to cause her to momentarily cave in hadn’t completely doused the flame burning between them.
Jack let out a soft, self-deprecating laugh as he crossed the small room. He was here to rest, to give his body and soul some downtime and to decompress a little. So what did he do? He went right off and did what he’d managed to avoid in his entire thirty-five years on the planet. He’d gotten involved.
“Bad timing, Tango,” he muttered. But he knew he had no choice. Like it or not, April Morgan had his complete and total attention.
Jack loosened the knot in the towel, letting it drop in a heap on the tiled floor. His smile returned as he grudgingly accepted the inevitability of his involvement. April didn’t know it yet, but she’d just gained a formidable ally.
And a very determined future lover.
FOUR
April waited the space of a single heartbeat after hearing the click of the bedroom door before backing up a step and sinking down onto the small sofa.
Just who in the hell is Jack Tango anyway? she wondered, trying and failing to come up with an easy answer. He infuriated her with his blunt, overconfident remarks, mystified her by reacting to her cool comebacks with an approving glint in his eye … and scared the living hell out of her by reducing to ashes, with no more than a hint of a smile and a few softly spoken words, her firm decision to remain untouched by him.
She tried to gather her wits and form them back into her earlier resolve, but her gaze kept skippingback to the bedroom door, her mind to the man behind it. She never once looked at the door to freedom.
She saw the doorknob twist and experienced a similar feeling in her stomach. Jack stepped into the small living room, his face concealed by the white towel that he was using to dry his hair with. He stopped after a step or two and slung the towel in the general direction of the low wooden table in the breakfast nook that, along with a tiny kitchen, formed the other half of the bungalow.
He was wearing a rumpled cotton shirt in a wild native print and faded red shorts just brief enough to keep her staring at the tanned, slightly hairy expanse of muscular thighs and calves underneath the tattered edges.
“Thanks,” he said.
She yanked her gaze up to his, expecting to find a smug smile plastered on his sexy face at being caught gawking at his legs. Instead his expression was carefully neutral. “For what?”
“For being here. For wanting to stay and work this out.” He turned toward the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, “I meant to restock the fridge yesterday; all I have is beer. Want one?”
“No. Thanks. I still have work to do this after—” She gulped as her gaze moved automatically from watching his backside to observing the bunching of his bicep as he twisted off the cap of his beer.“—noon,” she finished weakly. This was insanity. And it had just gotten worse; this time he’d caught her looking.
She averted her gaze and cleared her throat to speak, but Jack cut in before she could begin. It was just as well. She didn’t have a clue as to what she was going to say anyway.
He perched on the arm of the couch at the opposite end from her. “Don’t you ever take some time off?” He tilted the bottle up and swallowed a long draft before looking back at her.
She knew she was in trouble when she didn’t respond
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