by Diana Palmer
She flushed. It was her favorite dance. She’d been dancing it with a handsome Latin at a club in Osaka, Japan, one night when she’d gone to a society wedding to which Rourke was also invited. The club was where the crowd had gone for supper after a rehearsal dinner. Rourke had shown up there with a date. He hadn’t danced with Clarisse, of course; he was his usual mocking, sarcastic self. But he drew his date onto the dance floor and Clarisse watched with wide-eyed wonder as he held the audience enthralled with his skill. She thought she’d never seen anyone dance like that in her life. He hadn’t said a single word to Clarisse, much less danced with her.
“Come on. Give in,” he teased. “You know you want to.”
“I was going to watch television…”
“Put on something sexy and come dancing. You can watch television when you’re alone.”
She opened the door, with obvious apprehension. “I’ll have to get dressed.”
He tilted her face up to his with a thumb under her chin. His expression was very solemn. “I’ll make you a promise, Tat. I won’t touch you, in any way, until you tell me you want me to.”
She colored. “That’s new.”
“Isn’t it?”
“I’ll get dressed,” she said.
* * *
SHE CAME BACK into the living room dressed in a black cocktail dress with sequins around the hem, with strappy tango shoes and carrying a small black purse.
“Leave the purse here,” he said, smiling at the picture she made. “I’ve got money.”
“Okay.” She tossed it onto the side table. “Oh, my house key…”
She dug it out and looked at herself. The dress fit closely and there were no pockets.
He took the key from her and slid it into the expensive slacks he was wearing with a black silk shirt open at the neck and an expensive dark jacket.
His fingers linked into hers. “Do you mind?” he asked softly.
She tingled all over. “No,” she faltered. “It’s all right.”
He smiled and led her to a stretch limousine that she hadn’t even noticed in her excitement.
“Oh, it’s Domingo, isn’t it?” she exclaimed when the driver got out to open the back door for them. “How is your family? Your daughter…?”
“Doing very well, thanks to you, senhorita,” he said with feeling. “I am happy to see you again!”
She grinned at him and let Rourke ease her into the seat.
“Where are we going?” Domingo asked when he climbed in under the wheel.
“El Jinete,” he said, laughing. “An Argentina native runs it. We’re going to teach the locals how to tango.”
“Ah, such a dance,” Domingo said with feeling. “My mother is from Argentina, you know. She and my father, they danced it together. Not like these silly movies you see…”
Which brought up another subject of conversation, and that took them all the way into Manaus.
* * *
THE LATIN CLUB was decorated with images of flamenco and furnishings that were reminiscent of both Spain and Latin America.
A young woman wearing a red flamenco dress escorted them to a table near the dance floor and left menus with them.
“They serve food, too,” Rourke said with a grin. “I’m starving!”
She laughed. “Me, too,” she confessed.
They had seafood salads followed by a fruity dessert and coffee.
“I’ve almost forgotten how to dance,” she confessed when he took her onto the dance floor.
“So have I,” he replied. He was remembering the club in Osaka and the hurt look on Clarisse’s face. “I got drunk after you left the club that night in Osaka.”
“Wh…what?” she faltered.
He drew her against him. “Do you think I enjoyed hurting you?” he asked huskily. He averted his gaze to the far wall. “I was scared to death to let you get this close.”
She was fascinated by his expression.
He looked down at her hungrily. “You’ve never been much good at hiding how you feel, Tat,” he said as he began to move her to the lazy, seductive rhythm. “It was a very good thing that I’d had so much to drink last night.”
She flushed and lowered her gaze to his throat.
“Of course, I was still capable,” he mused, and laughed when she stiffened. He hugged her close, with rough affection. “I don’t deserve it. But I feel ten feet tall.”
“You do? Why?”
His mouth teased her ear. “Because you’re still a virgin, Tat.”
His arm brought her closer as he turned her.
“Couldn’t you, with another man?” he asked.
She swallowed. “You’re a hard act to follow,” she managed.
His chest rose and fell a little unsteadily. “If your mother had waited another ten minutes to come back home…”
“I’d have gotten pregnant, most likely,” she interrupted him. “That would have been the end of the world, for you.”
“Why?” He lifted his head and looked into her wide eyes. “I love kids, Tat. So do you.” He smiled. “I remember you giving a bottle to that little boy at the refugee camp,” he said. “It was so poignant that I had to grit my teeth to keep from reaching for you, all the way to the airport.”
He was confusing her. She didn’t understand.
“Don’t look so worried,” he said, brushing his lips over her hair. “We’ve just met. I’m a former secret agent. I have a game park and a pet lion in Africa named Lou. I love beautiful blue-eyed blondes, and I enjoy dancing the tango.”
She laughed. “Do you have one of those permits, too? So you can shoot people…?”
“I never shoot people.” He hesitated. “Almost never.”
She was recalling Miguel and the feel of the knife at her breast. Involuntarily, her fingers went to her bodice.
His arm tightened around her. “He’ll never hurt another woman.”
“He was scary,” she recalled with a tiny shiver. “A big man, very muscular…”
He pursed his lips. “So am I, Tat.”
“Yes, but he had sloppy muscles. You’re…” She recalled how he looked under his clothes and she blushed. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into that.”
He laughed. “I can’t believe it, either. I’ll carry that memory around with me for the rest of my life.”
“Why?”
“Because of the way you looked at me,” he said. He averted his gaze. “I’m touchy about my disability, Tat,” he said. “When you looked at me, you weren’t seeing it.”
“I never see it,” she said. “Stanton, there are men missing arms and legs, in all sorts of conditions, coming home from wars and conflicts. Many of them are married or in relationships. People cope, you know?”
“I had a woman tell me once that it would be creepy to go to bed with a one-eyed man,” he said, trying to make a joke of it.
She stopped dancing and winced.
“I didn’t,” he said at once, because he knew why she winced.
“Because she wouldn’t?” she asked.
“No. Because I…couldn’t,” he said. He drew her close again and danced.
She didn’t understand.
His big hand grew caressing on her back. “While you were under the influence of those anxiety meds, you thought you wanted Grange. But would you have slept with him?”
“No,” she said at once.
“Why?”
She drew in a shaky breath. “I can’t… I don’t…” She closed her eyes.
“Because you only want me, that way,” he whispered for her.
“Yes,” she said miserably, her pride gone.
He tilted up her chin and searched her blue eyes. He wasn’t smiling. “And I only want you,
that way.”
“Pull the other one,” she laughed. “That was a gorgeous blonde you were dancing with at the awards ceremony when I left the room…”
“She’s married to the presenter,” he said quietly.
“Oh.”
“Why in the hell do you think I went out and got drunk?” he asked at her ear.
“Because I wouldn’t go to bed with you,” she bit off.
He lifted his head. He sighed. “We’ve got a long way to go,” he said after a minute. “But, then, I knew it wouldn’t be easy.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Dance,” he said, smiling. “There’s only tonight.”
“Really?”
“Well, not really. I thought I’d take you on a tour of Manaus tomorrow,” he added. “We’ll go look at the opera house and see some of the street performances. We might take in a show. I’ll see what’s in town.”
“You’re not going right back to Africa, then?”
“No.”
She followed his steps so easily, as if she could read his mind and knew exactly what he was going to do next. But it wasn’t that way except for dancing. “When?” she asked.
“How long is your fiancé going to be out of town?” he asked.
“Three weeks, he said.”
He lifted his head and looked into her eyes. “I’m going to be here for three weeks,” he said.
“Stanton…”
“When I take you home tonight, I’m going to leave you at your front door,” he said quietly. “But I’m going to kiss you in such a way that you’ll lie awake all night wanting me.”
Her lips parted on a husky breath.
“Of course, I’ll also lie awake all night wanting you,” he mused, and laughed to break the tension.
The music ended. He took her back to their table and ordered champagne.
“Are we celebrating something?” she asked when the waiter poured it into flutes.
“Yes,” Rourke replied, smiling tenderly. “To beginnings.”
Well, that was innocuous enough, she supposed. He didn’t really look threatening. She smiled and raised her glass to touch to his.
* * *
DOMINGO WAITED IN the car while Rourke walked Clarisse to her door.
He paused just in front of her, producing her house key. She unlocked the door, leaving the key in it.
“I had a lovely time,” she said. “Really lovely. Thank you.”
“I did, too. I don’t get out much these days,” he confessed. “Never dancing. I’m usually up to my neck in some project overseas.”
That brought back to mind what he did for a living, and she felt uneasy. “You’re always at risk.”
He shrugged. “I can’t live without it, sweetheart,” he said softly, smiling when she flushed a little at the unaccustomed endearment. He never used them to her. Not in the past. “I have to have those adrenaline rushes.”
“I suppose it’s like men who play sports or go into law enforcement work.”
“Something like that.”
She searched his face with quiet, resigned eyes. “Try not to get killed. I hate funerals.”
He chuckled. “I’m sure I’d hate my own. But you’d look gorgeous in black lace, Tat. I used to dream about you in a long, lacy see-through black gown. I’d wake up sweating.”
That was surprising. “You dreamed about me?”
“Just as you dream about me,” he said, as if he knew.
“It was eight years ago,” she began.
“No. It was yesterday.” He looked down at her. “This may get a little rough,” he said apologetically as he drew her slowly to him. “I don’t mean it to, okay?”
“I don’t understand,” she faltered, already on fire from just the contact with his powerful body.
“I’ve kept to myself…for a while,” he whispered as he bent to her mouth. His hands slid to her hips and drew her against him. He shivered as his body reacted immediately, explicitly, to just the touch of her. “Sorry,” he added unsteadily.
“It’s all right,” she said. She stood very still as his head bent, his mouth coming to brush hers very softly. He nudged her top lip away from the lower one and teased it with brief, soft little kisses that made her body go tense.
He felt that. He felt her nails biting into his upper arms as she held him.
“I’ll bet—” he breathed into her mouth “—that your nipples are like little stones right now, Tat…”
She opened her mouth, shocked, and his went down against it with furious hunger. His hands on her hips were hurting but he didn’t move them, he didn’t try to bring her closer. He just kissed her, with hunger, almost with desperation.
He groaned against her lips. “I’m going to die when I have to step away from you,” he said huskily.
He pulled back, shuddering.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“What for?”
“Making you hurt,” she said, wincing at the strain on his face.
He straightened a little jerkily. “It will go down eventually,” he said with graveyard humor. “An ice pack might help…”
She burst out laughing. “You’re horrible!” she exclaimed, flushing.
He laughed, even through the pain. “Yes, I am,” he agreed. He bent and brushed his mouth over her nose. “Go to bed. I hope you don’t sleep a wink.”
“I’ll sleep just fine, thanks.”
“In a pig’s eye,” he mused. He winked at her. “I’ll be over about nine. Too early?”
She shook her head. Her eyes were soft for a few seconds, then her expression grew somber.
“You think I’ll hurt you again,” he said, reading the apprehension he saw. “I won’t. But I’ll have to prove it, won’t I?”
“I’m afraid so.”
He smiled slowly. “We’re going down a different path this time, my baby,” he said with tender affection. “No more nasty remarks. No more insults.”
She drew in a breath. “Okay.”
“See you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow.”
He winked and danced down the steps, whistling as he went back to the limousine. He paused at the door, turned and waited.
She realized, belatedly, that he wasn’t leaving until she was safely inside. She pulled out the key, went inside, locked the door and turned off the porch light. He got into the vehicle and left.
* * *
SHE DIDN’T SLEEP a wink, just as he’d predicted. But when he showed up at her door the next morning, his own eyes were bloodshot, as well.
“No, I didn’t sleep.” He chuckled, and grinned at her. “Come sightseeing.”
She looked past him. A late-model rental car was sitting in the driveway.
“The limo attracts too much attention,” he explained when she was sitting beside him in the car. “I want us to be just typical tourists for a few days. That suit you?”
“That suits me very well.”
He reached out and captured her small hand, linking his strong fingers with it. The contact was electric.
“How about the botanical gardens first?” he asked.
“That would be lovely.”
* * *
THEY STROLLED THROUGH the exquisite vegetation, stopping to smell flowers and look at small creatures in the undergrowth.
“Careful,” he said, when she went off the path. “There are probably snakes here, even if they aren’t part of the exhibit.”
She moved back quickly. She laughed. “You know, that place where the snake bit me still swells up every year about the same time.” She shook her head. “Nobody can tell me why.”
“I remember that time with absolute terror,” he said grimly. “I carried you in
my arms, running, to the clinic. I was afraid I wouldn’t get you there in time. You could have died. It would have been on my conscience forever.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” she said, surprised by the emotion in his deep voice. “Stanton, I rushed ahead of you. I remember that you called to me, trying to stop me. I didn’t listen. I was always headstrong, in those days.”
“Headstrong. Spirited.” He sighed, clasping her hand in his. “I knocked the spirit right out of you, Tat. I didn’t want to hurt you. I just…couldn’t risk letting you get close to me.”
The clasp of his strong fingers was almost pain. She stopped and looked up at the rigid lines of his face.
He looked down at her, wincing. “If you only knew,” he said in a rough whisper, “what it did to me to say those things to you, to make you hate me…” He looked away. His body was like stone.
Why, he cared! She hadn’t believed it possible. But of course he cared. In any crisis in her life, he was always the first one there.
“When my father and Matilda died,” she said softly, “you were there just after it happened. You took care of everything.” The memory of the loss still hurt a little. “In Barrera, you couldn’t wait to get to me when you knew I’d been hurt. In Africa, you came all that way to get me out before the offensive in Ngawa…”
He looked down at her. “I don’t have a life without you,” he said simply.
She bit her lower lip and tears overwhelmed her blue eyes.
He averted his. “Don’t,” he said unsteadily. “I can’t bear it when you cry.”
His fingers loosened their tight grip and became caressing. “Come on. Let’s look at the flamingos, precious, and look like we’re enjoying ourselves.”
Precious. She beamed. She laughed.
He looked down at her with warm affection in his one good eye. “A bit of news I forgot to tell you,” he said as they started walking again. “K.C. had the DNA test done.”
She stopped walking. “And?” she asked excitedly.
He smiled. “He really is my dad,” he said. “I’m having my name legally changed to Kantor. I’m keeping the Rourke part, though. I loved the man I thought was my father, just the same.”
“I’m so happy for you,” she said. “K.C. is a wonderful man.”