Taming the Tango Champion Page 5

  “Matthias.” His name was a gasp on her lips. Clad in a black leather jacket and jeans, he seemed tired, hair mussed by the motorbike helmet in one hand.

  “I want to see her.”

  Glancing past him, Ava saw a Ducati parked out front.

  “I didn’t know you rode a motorbike.” The words were out before she could stop.

  He pushed a hand impatiently through his hair. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me. Can I come in?” His Argentine drawl seemed at odds with the severity of his frown. But the words took on a life of their own when combined with the unfathomable expression in his eyes.

  Ava stared, the cool evening breeze rising goose bumps on her arms, her senses racing through different emotions, unable to settle on one. Confusion—did he have to come in? Attraction and desire swirled into a hot tub of emotions lapping through her. Then resignation. A man like him would never want her again.

  “Now?” Her voice broke on the word.

  “Si. She is mine. The results came back today.”

  “Bella is her name.” Irritation tipped her resignation. “It’s bedtime, so no. Plus—” He stepped past her into the square hallway, immediately rendered tiny by his looming presence.

  “How dare you push your way into my home?” Ava propped her hands on her hips, welcoming the anger that surged through her at his audacity.

  “How dare you have my child without telling me?” The words were hot, but the expression on his face belied it, the lazy way he watched her through half–lid eyes.

  The hallway, with its black and white flagstones, was no place to have this conversation. “Come in, but please keep your voice down.”

  Ava was never more thankful that the bathroom was at the back of her apartment. Stifling a sigh, she showed him into the sitting room. The tall lamp in the corner lit the cane plant, the brown pottery lamp beside the sofa warming the colors in the room. Normally she derived peace from this room, but not tonight.

  “Do you want to sit? Can I get you a drink?” If so, she could run to the bathroom and tell her mother to keep Bella there until Matthias had gone.

  He shook his head once and came a few paces into the room.

  “At least sit.” She gestured to the cream leather armchair. “Shall I take your jacket?”

  He remained standing, simply rising one eyebrow, but placed his black helmet in the chair. She stared at it, how incongruous it appeared framed by her cream furniture.

  “How do you feel about being her father?” Now he knew that they were a family, albeit a fractured one, she had to know. Ava was mummy, Matthias was daddy. They were connected, now and always would be.

  Matthias didn’t reply.

  “Okay.” She perched on the arm of the sofa. “I know you want to see her, and fair enough, I won’t stop you. But not now, not like this.”

  He folded his arms, leather jacket creaking, bland expression fooling no-one. God, how she wanted to reach out. His sudden move to the mantelpiece caught her off guard. He plucked the photo of her and Bella smiling delightedly at one another from its place of pride, and stared at it. His jaw clenched.

  Ava rose and walked up behind him, wanting to touch him, to somehow reach him, and not just physically.

  “You must understand, Matthias. Bella hasn’t asked about her father, she’s too young. To bring her in now, when she’s tired and ready for bed, to meet you, big and dark and, oh I don’t know, manly, will only confuse her.”

  Plus she wasn’t ready to see him with Bella. She had a funny feeling her heart might hurt.

  She raised one hand toward him. He couldn’t see her, although his back tensed. One hand flicked around to massage his neck. She forced a brisk note into her voice.

  “It’s all about Bella now, Matthias.”

  And me, don’t forget me, her heart cried so loudly he must have heard.

  “What are you thinking?” He swung to face her, still clutching the photo and she stumbled backward, taken by surprise. She ran her hand through her hair, absentmindedly wishing she had washed it when she got in.

  “That it would be best if we met you out somewhere public and Bella can get to know you without you being in her space. Somewhere like the park for example. I can introduce you as a friend. You can do whatever, play with her, chat with her or whatever you think. Then I take her home. That way it’s clear cut.”

  For Bella at least.

  Uncertainty flickered on his face. Ava contemplated an enlarged print of Milford Sound in New Zealand over the mantelpiece. She had gone kayaking there two weeks before she had met Matthias. Life had been simple then. Sadness swamped her, dragging her down.

  Matthias raised an eyebrow. “When do you suggest we do this?”

  “Sunday?”

  He nodded brusquely and held the photograph out. “Have you a copy, or better yet, one without you?”

  Ava swallowed against the sudden hurt rising, a lump in her throat.

  “Sure.” She walked over to the sideboard and bent down to the lower drawers, suddenly conscious of the way her jeans clung to her. A tension snapped through the air and a warmth swirled in her core. She swung back, photos in hand, and caught a dark, sultry expression on his chiseled face before he clenched his square jaw and glanced away.

  Damn he is hot.

  If he touched her now, she would be putty in his hands. She drew herself up straight, conscious of her hardened nipples straining against her t-shirt. Judging by the quick glance he gave them, Matthias was aware of them too. Quickly crossing her arms over her chest, she made an approximation of a shiver.

  “Cold, isn’t it?” She muttered the words, her subconscious laughing.

  You’re no actress, Ava.

  She held out a collection of photographs to Matthias, of Bella from when she was born. Ava’s heart resembled a captured wild bird.

  This is our little girl.

  His eyes devoured them even before he had them in his hand. She caught a fleeting moment when the hard edges of his face softened before he bowed his head and flicked through the photos. A strong pulse leapt in his neck.

  What was he thinking?

  He shoved the photos into the inside pocket of his jacket and picked up his helmet.

  “Sunday then?” The look he cast was devoid of expression and Ava’s toes curled in her boots.

  “Yes, Battersea Park. If you…em…want to give me your number, I’ll text you when we leave. All casual, yeah? We’ll be feeding the ducks or whatever we’re doing and we’ll bump into you. I’ll introduce you as a friend and you can chat with Bella just like any friend would.”

  He moved toward the door and she stared at his broad back again, drinking in his presence. A weight of longing descended. What she wouldn’t give to be in his arms, his girth sheltering her and Bella against the world.

  She couldn’t watch as he opened the front door, afraid that he would see the longing stark upon her face. In her peripheral vision, she saw him glance her way and she bit her lip, forcing herself to meet his eyes just as he started out the door.

  “Matthias?” The words were there in her throat, she had to give voice to them.

  “Yes?”

  “Are you married?”

  His green eyes sharpened on her, and she understood how a hunted deer would feel.

  “I once said to you that I didn’t believe in marriage, in one love. I stand by my words.”

  The hope dawning with his answer then flooded with despair. He wasn’t married but no way was he going to be a family man either. Part of that same conversation, he had said he didn’t want children either. Immense strain pulled her shoulders down, although she didn’t understand why. It wasn’t as if she were asking him to become part of their lives—or was she?

  Dammit this was hard. There was nowhere to hide. She didn’t think she had ever felt so vulnerable in her life before, not even when she had landed in Bangkok, rucksack on her back and not speaking the language.

  Without bothering to say anymore
, he strode down the garden path. She moved away from the multi-colored paned glass door into the living room, and moments later heard the roar of his motorbike as he gunned it and left.

  * * * *

  Matthias’s head spun faster than the wheels on his motorbike. Visions of Ava’s clear blue eyes invaded his mind, her bending over to reach the photographs. Seeing a pub with tables outside, he pulled in and yanked the suddenly claustrophobic helmet from his head.

  Dio, he needed a drink. Parking the bike, he stalked into the half-full pub, went to the bar, and sat himself on a stool. Soft rock played gently in the background. The bartender, an old guy with a nearly white comb-over, dressed in an immaculate shirt and black trousers, stopped polishing glasses to come over.

  “Help you?”

  “Whiskey please, Chivas Regal if you have it.”

  “Sure.”

  Soon there was a tumbler of the golden liquid in front of him, which he drained off. He propped his elbows on the bar and dropped his head into his hands.

  “Another?”

  The old guy was in front of him, polishing glasses constantly.

  “A strong coffee, if you please.”

  He nodded and moved away, picking up the phone by the till, quietly placing the coffee order.

  Are you married?

  Rendered young by her question, the soft light through the colored glass had illuminated her, highlighting the confusion in her eyes. Muffling a groan, he pulled out the photos and reflected on the first, feeling a giant fist squeeze his heart.

  Bella was beautiful.

  His daughter was beautiful.

  “Jim?” The voice came from where Matthias assumed the kitchen to be and the bartender disappeared, soon to return and place a coffee in front of him.

  “Lovely child.” Jim smiled at the photos.

  A strange feeling encompassed Matthias, and he could’ve sworn he felt his heart expand again. Pride, it was paternal pride. He straightened up. “Thanks.”

  “Yours?” The bartender held an empty clean glass to the light and peered through it.

  “I guess.”

  “Guess? It’s never good to guess when children are concerned.” Buffing the glass until it sparkled, the old guy kept his head down. His Irish accent became more apparent with each word he spoke.

  “I’ve only discovered her existence.”

  There, it was out. He picked up his coffee cup and contemplated it as though he could divine secrets from its dark depths. He wanted to talk, keep on talking. He glanced at the bartender. “Have you children?”

  “Sure do.”

  Reaching behind the till, he pulled out some dog-eared photos. An abundance of children, grandchildren and family life spilled from them. Matthias stared, becoming aware of a rent opening in his heart. He had missed out on so much of his daughter’s life already.

  “It must be a bit of shock to discover you have a child.”

  Matthias caught sympathy on the old guy’s face and something within him responded. “It’s the second time it’s happened.”

  “You’re joking me?”

  Matthias shook his head at the incredulous expression he caught in Jim’s pale blue eyes before Jim turned to face the optics. Placing a tumbler under the Chivas Regal one, he measured a shot, then handed it back to Matthias. “On the house. You deserve it.”

  Matthias made a quick calculation. He’d still be fine to drive with two drinks, but if need be, he could leave the motorbike here. It was only a short walk across the bridge to his apartment.

  He tossed the liquid back, grimacing.

  “The first child wasn’t mine.” There was something about this Irish man with his large family that invited confidence. What the hell, it wasn’t as if he had friends in London to talk to. And he wouldn’t anyway, wouldn’t want to gossip about his life. Jim was different.

  “The woman was an ex of mine, who I found in bed with my business partner. About two years ago, she told me I was the father to her son.” He stopped and scrutinized his feelings, finding to his relief that he didn’t actually care anymore. In fact, he could laugh.

  Jim nodded, head slightly tilted to one side.

  “She even faked a DNA test. I proposed.” He shrugged, more to himself than to Jim. “Not for any fondness for her, but because I didn’t want a son of mine growing up without my name. A month later, I found out the truth.”

  Matthias nodded toward his empty tumbler and Jim, picking it up to refill, said, “Good job you did.”

  “Victor is a good kid. And my mother loved him from the beginning.”

  And she still did. Victor enjoyed coming out to the ranch, pretending to be a cowboy and hanging out with the hired hands. Matthias never begrudged him his moments on the ranch. It wasn’t his fault he had a manipulative mother. For Victor’s sake, he had an uneasy peace with Beatriz.

  It hadn’t taken long before the little boy owned a piece of his heart. And the little boy loved him, a balm to Matthias’s unquiet spirit, courtesy of Ava. The devastation when he heard Victor wasn’t his son had lessened and he could now acknowledge the irony. He was the man who had said he didn’t want children. He should be happy. But now he couldn’t persuade himself of that anymore. Perhaps it was an early mid-life crisis, but thinking about his life without love in it left him empty, shell-like, performing on auto-pilot.

  He gave a wry smile. Now here he was again on a roller-coaster of emotions. He had even come in search of it.

  Jim put the towel down and placed both hands on the bar top, propping himself up.

  “This girlie here…” He gestured to the photo with his chin. “You sure she’s yours?”

  “This time, I am. I had the tests done myself.” He mentally cheered himself in a cloud of alcohol-induced self-congratulations. No one would take him for a fool again.

  Jim nodded at the photo. “The mother can’t be bad looking if this photo is anything to go by.”

  His comment sharpened Matthias’s mind. “She’s beautiful.” Matthias chewed the inside of his cheek to the point of hurting. “This woman, she has it all.” He stopped talking right there, but his brain carried on chatting. Great smile, easy laugh—at least in Argentina—and her body made for sin. His groin tightened involuntarily, blood heating fast.

  Could he? Bed her again, just once? He shifted on his stool, the small space suddenly uncomfortable. There was enough chemistry shifting between them they only needed the right place and time in order to cause the two of them to combust. Then he could leave her lying there.

  Would that help?

  Probably not. Plus, much as he hated to admit it, a part of him recoiled at his revenge plan. Apart from anything else, she was the mother of his child. The thought rebounded through him and he flinched internally before shoving it aside. He needed time to think.

  I have a child. What to do now?

  Hell knows, he didn’t trust women and she obviously didn’t trust him, otherwise he would’ve known about Bella before now.

  Maybe, just maybe, this way they could both have an amazing time together and he would go back to Argentina when the show completed. Simple. Sort out what to do about Bella when there. The thought took hold and he had to stop himself getting on his motorbike and gunning down the road for her.

  He had drunk too much.

  But the next time he saw her?

  * * * *

  “Right, done.”

  Ava slowly blinked, raising her eyebrows to stretch her eyes as she opened them; she had lost herself in daydreams.

  “Is she down? I’ll go in and tuck her in. Will you open the wine for us please?”

  She quietly pushed Bella’s door open, hearing nothing. Ava gazed at her sleeping baby, a maternal surge rising. Nothing would ever harm her baby, and nobody would ever take Bella away.

  Going back into the living room, she picked her glass from the low wooden coffee table and chinked it against her mum’s. “Cheers.” She let loose a sigh.

  “You can tell
me, you know.” Low and caring, her mum’s voice nearly brought her to tears.

  “I’m not sure you want to know.”

  “Come on, it can’t be that bad.”

  Ava shifted back into the corner of the sofa so she could see her mum properly. “You know this dance show and the fact that I’ve had a bit of an argument with one of the judges, Matthias de Romero?” On the day that Ava had told Matthias, she explained her blotchy face to her mother by saying she’d had an argument with Matthias.

  “Well, he’s not someone I just met. I, um, met him in Argentina. And heck, I’ll come out with it—he’s Bella’s father.” The words came out in a rush and Ava saw her mother’s eyes widen. She hastily took a glug of wine.

  “Okay, why don’t you tell me about it?”

  The outside street lights cast a stripy orange glow through the open blinds and Ava stood to shut them and pull the thick cream tweed curtains together, talking as she did.“First, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you when I got back from traveling. It was too new and too raw to share it with someone I love. I knew I’d be a mess.”

  She settled herself back down as the memories crowded in, the day long horse trek that had taken them deep into the Aconcagua National Park, the grays, blues and reds of the mountains, and the sound of the river they rode by. Both she and Matthias had skinny-dipped individually, and that night, the heat of the fire had ignited something between them that hadn’t been quenched then. When the early morning sun dipped the branches of the trees in gold, she had left him sleeping.

  Her mother listened in silence, occasionally sipping her wine. When she came to the part about leaving Matthias, for the first time, her mum appeared sad.

  “Why did you leave then?”

  Ava set her glass down. “That’s hard to answer, because I don’t fully know myself. All I did know was that I was mad about him, but he was a man from a different continent, with a totally separate life to my own.”

  She paused, gazing inwardly at the girl she had been. “I had spent twelve months traveling the world, meeting new people, picking up new hobbies and I had to come back to my old life. Otherwise, I think I would have lost the person I was before I went traveling. Do you see? I had to match up my two lives, or I would have spent the rest of my life wondering who I was. Does that make sense?”