His Perfect Partner Read online

  The violets enveloping him withered, choked by the remorse settling around him like a toxic mushroom cloud.

  “I’m doing my best.” The words were more of a muttered curse, pushed through his gritted teeth.

  “Please, you don’t have to defend yourself to me.” Yazmine pressed the open binder to her chest, concern blanketing her face. “Maria’s the one who needs to know that this is important to you.”

  He gave her a curt nod, not trusting his voice to betray his growing frustration. Maybe he wasn’t doing such a class-act job at parenting, but with his nanny’s help he’d learn. Get better. He and Maria would be fine. Failure was not an option.

  “Look, I shouldn’t have—” Yazmine broke off. Her lips pulled down with resignation. “I simply want you to be aware of the situation. That’s all.”

  Tomás was tempted to walk away, but he kept his feet firmly planted. He hadn’t run from anything in his entire life. Now was not the time to start. No way would a simple father-daughter dance or an appealing yet prickly instructor get the best of him. Maria depended on him.

  “Why don’t we see how it goes today, and then we’ll take it from there,” Yazmine offered as the students returned.

  Maria skip-hopped into the room. With a sweet grin that instantly relaxed his shoulders, she waved him over to join her in the back line of dancers. The breath-stealing tightness in his chest instantly eased. At the same time, his resolve to do his best for her hardened like quick-drying cement.

  “Deal.”

  Yazmine blinked at his brusque tone.

  “Don’t worry. I can do this,” he assured her, softening his words with a smile. “I won’t let my daughter, or you, down.” He made a silly face at Maria and she giggled and, that easily, wrapped him around her finger a little tighter.

  From the moment he’d held her tiny squirming body in his arms, he’d vowed to do whatever it took to make his baby girl happy. Nothing would change that.

  Tomás slipped off his suit jacket and tossed it over the barre. Then he pocketed his cufflinks and deftly rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt as he moved next to Maria. The opening strains of “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus” filled the studio once more.

  “Here we go, everyone! Five, six, seven, eight.” Yazmine clapped as she counted out the beats.

  Beside him, Maria counted aloud as well, the same way they’d practiced at home. He tried following along, but with his thoughts lingering on the intriguing instructor, he fumbled the opening steps.

  “Ay, Papá, the other way.” Maria nudged him with her elbow when he nearly collided with the dad next to them.

  “Yeah, I know,” he grumbled.

  Great. It probably looked like he’d never practiced at home at all. Maybe Ms. Yazmine hadn’t noticed.

  He peeked up at her to check.

  Her lips quirked with the hint of a teasing smirk he should have found annoying rather than enticing, she exaggerated her steps for him to catch on.

  Before long, Tomás understood why Maria was so enamored with her teacher. Why Maria brimmed with excitement when she spoke of her dance class.

  Yazmine Fernandez was great at what she did, full of a vibrant, intoxicating energy. Whether calling out the next move with encouragement, or waving her left hand at a dad reaching out to twist his daughter toward him with the wrong arm, she showed absolutely no sign of impatience. Her pride and delight in her job were palpable forces.

  He could relate to that.

  In spite of the negative tone of their earlier conversation, her charisma and charm beckoned him like a front porch light welcoming a weary traveler too long on the road. Too long on his own.

  His mind lost in the idea of Yazmine waiting at home for him, Tomás bumped into Maria, knocking her off balance.

  “Oof! Not that foot, Papá.”

  “¡Perdón! Sorry, I got it.” Damn, between his minimal practice and his mind’s unwelcome meanderings, he was doing a spot-on impersonation of someone with two left feet.

  Halfway through the dance his frustration level rose again when he and Maria were forced to stand off to the side because he didn’t know the rest of the steps.

  “You’ll learn it, Papá,” Maria assured him. “We’ll keep practicing together.”

  Together.

  The word spread warmth through him as if he’d taken a sip of prime Mexican tequila. It had been Maria and him, the two of them together, since the day Kristine had chosen an overseas promotion over their marriage and child. It hadn’t been easy, but he would figure things out. Even if it meant learning ballet to make Maria happy.

  The strains of the song drew to a close and the rest of the dancers applauded everyone’s efforts.

  “That’s it for this week.” Yazmine glided over to pause the music.

  Sighs of relief along with a muttered, “Thank goodness” rippled through the crowd of fathers.

  “You’re all doing a great job.” Sincerity colored Yazmine’s words, shone in the reassuring expression she shared with her students. “Remember to practice over the Thanksgiving holiday next week. We’ll see you the following Wednesday. Same time, same place, same go-get-’em attitudes from everyone. Right?”

  Across the room she sent Tomás a telling glance. Message received. No more absences. No tardiness.

  She didn’t think too highly of him. While normally he’d shrug that off as none of his concern, for some inexplicable reason it really bugged him.

  He should smooth things over—for Maria’s sake. Ms. Yazmine was her favorite dance teacher after all.

  While everyone else headed for the coatrack by the school’s front door, Yazmine stayed near the desk, thumbing through her iPod display screen. She didn’t appear to be in a hurry to leave. Perfect.

  “Hey, m’ija,” Tomás told Maria, “grab your coat and I’ll be right there.”

  “Okay.” Curls bouncing, Maria danced out of the studio.

  Relief at seeing her acting more like her old self tempered his unease over the potentially uncomfortable conversation in store for him.

  Yazmine gathered her belongings as he approached her, steeling himself to play nicely with the sexy taskmaster. She glanced up, her brow furrowing when she saw him. “Is there something you needed?”

  Loaded question.

  Somehow in the course of half a dance lesson this woman had his mind considering ideas he hadn’t allowed himself in years.

  “We didn’t really start off on the right foot tonight. I wanted to apolo—”

  “No, don’t.” She held up a hand, her mouth set in a firm, no-arguing-with-me line.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’m the one who should apologize. It’s not—” She broke off, rubbing a hand across the worry lines marking her forehead, then smoothing it over her already slick bun before releasing a heavy sigh. “I’ve had a lot going on today. I probably came on a little too strong with you earlier.”

  Sincere words, but spoken with a mouth quirked in the opposite direction of a smile. The kind of apology his mamá would have made him try again.

  For some bizarre reason Yazmine’s half-baked apology charmed him. Made him want to change the negative vibe arcing between them, without looking too closely at why he felt compelled to do so.

  “Apology accepted. And appreciated.” He flashed her a reassuring smile. The one he used to sweet-talk his staunchest opponents in the boardroom.

  Her frown deepened. Man, she was a tough cookie.

  He didn’t move, didn’t change his expression. Allowed his smile to work its magic.

  Then, like a soldier reporting for duty, she straightened her shoulders and gave him the barest hint of a nod. “Okay, then. You held your own fairly well today in class, up to a point. I can get you ready in time for the Christmas recital, if you don’t ditch any more of our practices.”

  There it was again, the hint of a challenge. As if she still questioned his ability to hold up his end of the bargain.

  Crossing hi
s arms, Tomás gave Yazmine the once-over, intrigued, if slightly exasperated, by her conflicting signals.

  Stern disciplinarian ruling her studio.

  Affable teacher who charmed his daughter.

  Sexy siren luring him with a single glance.

  Megawatt smile on a mouth that didn’t mince words.

  Why should it matter whether or not she liked him? He was long past caring what others thought. Long past high school where, as the “wetback” from the wrong side of town on scholarship at Deburg Prep, he’d felt desperate for acceptance.

  Maria’s sing-song voice carried in from the lobby.

  That’s why he was still here trying to charm Yazmine Fernandez. Maria’s happiness made this matter.

  “Look, we don’t have to be friends. Hell, we can settle for acquaintances.”

  “Mr. Garcia, I think we—”

  “I’m not finished.”

  Yazmine blinked at his interruption.

  “Maria’s the most important person in my life. From the way you handled the class tonight, I can see why she admires you. I’m doing the best I can right now. Yeah, I’m aggravated when it’s not good enough. But I’ll do anything for my daughter, even get up on a stage and make a fool of myself. As long as she’s happy. That’s what counts. I’m pretty certain that’s one thing you and I can both agree on. Right?”

  His words hung in the air, an olive branch if she chose to accept it.

  After several tension-filled moments, he watched as Yazmine’s shoulders visibly relaxed. The worry lines marring her beautiful face smoothed and the tightness around her mouth eased.

  Tomás waited, uncertain whether he’d get another swipe of her sharp tongue or one of her infectious smiles, calling himself all kinds of crazy for wanting the latter.

  * * *

  Ay Dios mío. Yazmine’s heart skipped. Tomás Garcia in protective Papa Bear mode, his impassioned words gruff with sincerity, presented quite a persuasive package.

  Arms crossed, she eyed him, trying to gauge how much of what he said was true. How much was a good spin from a man who made his living convincing people to buy what he was selling.

  She’d played the workaholic game before, gotten hurt and hurt others. It was a dangerous pastime.

  “Honestly, it’s nice to hear how much you care about your daughter,” she said.

  “I’m glad you approve.”

  She narrowed her gaze at him, not sure whether he was teasing or patronizing her. “Look, I enjoy having Maria in my class, and I do my best to be a good teacher.”

  “Like I said, based on today I’d say you’re quite successful. My daughter certainly thinks you can do no wrong.” Tomás hitched a broad shoulder in a half shrug. “How about we try this again. I can make a better first impression.”

  “There’s no need. It’s fine. I respect someone who’s dedicated to his work.”

  Hands on his hips, Tomás’s eyes flashed with skepticism. “I sense a ‘but’ you’re leaving out.”

  Ay, the man was the epitome of hardheaded. When it came down to it, she could be too. “You really want to know?”

  “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

  “Fine. But,” she stressed the word, “you should make sure it doesn’t leave your loved ones feeling second-rate.”

  His jaw muscles tightened and Yaz swallowed back a curse. Great, she’d crossed the line. Yeah, he’d pushed, but he was also a student’s parent. She should have remembered that and thought twice before challenging him.

  “Maria’s a wonderful addition to my class,” Yaz continued, a pale attempt at making amends, but she had to try. “Granted, she’s usually a lot more reserved than today, but she’s coming along fine.”

  “She hasn’t dealt with our move here as well as I’d hoped.” Tomás turned to glance back toward the lobby. Yazmine followed the direction of his gaze and saw Maria sitting with another student on one of the sofas. “I’m beginning to wonder if the move was a mistake.”

  Tomás Garcia as the confident ad-man she could easily deal with. His concerned-father side strummed a softer chord within her. A chord she struggled to silence. “It’s only been a few months since you arrived in Oakton. Change can be hard on a kid, no matter her age or the situation. Give it time.”

  “You speaking from experience?”

  She shrugged off the question. No need to spill her guts to him. To anyone.

  Tomás dipped his head in a slight nod. “Time. That’s what Mrs. B keeps telling me.”

  “Listen to her. Your nanny’s a wise woman.”

  His mouth curved up and his dimple made another sexy appearance. A spark of awareness sizzled low in her belly.

  Dios mío, she should have walked away after she’d pissed him off. She had no business feeling any sort of attraction to him. She had no room for distractions.

  Scooping up her binder, Yaz eased around Tomás, heading for the door. He fell into step alongside her, brushing up against her. The hair on his forearm tickled her skin, sending pinpoints of awareness peppering up her arm.

  Yaz took a deep, steadying breath only to find herself appreciating his musky scent. Basta, she chided herself. Enough already.

  “So you think it’s too soon for me to worry about her?” Tomás asked.

  “Uh, yeah.” Yaz tried to focus on his question rather than her unpredictable hormones. “I’ll admit at first I figured Maria was simply a shy child. But every once in a while I’d see a flash of her spunk. Then, when I mentioned the Christmas show, her hand shot up to volunteer. It actually took me by surprise.”

  “You and me both,” Tomás grumbled, his chuckle softening his dry tone. “I thought she was kidding when she told me.”

  His humble words and easygoing charm were at odds with the man Yaz had envisioned during the weeks of his no-show routine.

  “This dance class stuff isn’t really my forte,” Tomás muttered.

  “Don’t worry about the recital. If you’re serious about practicing, you’ll catch on. You did a decent job today.”

  “But there’s room for improvement?”

  “Yeah.”

  He threw back his head and laughed, a rich sound that swirled around her, enticing her to join in.

  “You don’t pull any punches, do you?” he asked.

  “I get the impression you can take it. Though, I guess, I probably overstepped my bounds earlier . . .”

  “Man, that apology is killing you. Isn’t it?” He moved quickly, stepping in front of her to block her path.

  Keep walking, she warned herself, unnerved that he seemed to read her so easily. That didn’t bode well for a girl with secrets she didn’t want to share.

  “You just can’t bring yourself to say the words if you don’t mean them, can you?” The note of respect in his voice intrigued her.

  “No, not really.”

  “Good. I’d rather hear the truth than some candy-coated lie. I’m a big boy.”

  It was like a hand-delivered invitation, but she stopped herself, barely, from letting her gaze travel the length of him.

  What she would give for this man’s level of self-confidence. But she was great at pretending. “I take every aspect of dance seriously. Even the father-daughter Christmas routine.”

  “And it’s important to Maria, so that makes it important to me. Maybe we have more in common than we realized.”

  His naughty grin widened and Yaz gulped. Between his cleft chin, hide-and-seek dimple, and smiling eyes, she could get in some serious trouble with this guy.

  The truth was, after her farce of an engagement to Victor had ended, she knew her life had no room for personal relationships. She understood well the sacrifices needed for her to be successful in New York. Papi had given up his dreams of stardom for their family. She owed it to him to see his dream for her come true.

  Her heart heavy with the fear of disappointing her loved ones, Yaz edged away from Tomás Garcia’s distraction. “Like I said, as long as you keep practicing and mak
e it to class, you’ll catch on, Mr. Garcia.”

  “Tomás.” He placed a hand on her arm to stop her. Heat surged through her at his touch. “My name is Tomás. Encantado de conocerte.”

  Dios mío, he was pleased to meet her?

  The man stood less than a foot away, close enough that she could see his five o’clock shadow. Tempting enough to make her wonder if she pressed a hand to his starched, white shirt, would she find his heart pounding as fast as hers?

  Ay bendito, she was undeniably losing it.

  “Well, uh, Tomás, we’ll see you after the Thanksgiving break.” That gave her plenty of time to get her head screwed back on straight.

  “Oh, you will certainly see me after the holiday. You can count on it.” He gave her a cheeky wink, then strode out of the studio.

  Her knees wobbled. Those words coming from any other parent wouldn’t have made her think twice. Coming from Tomás Garcia, they made her think about a lot more than what should have been a harmless dance class.

  Chapter Two

  With the cold winter wind nipping at her heels, Yaz stepped inside Center Stage, Oakton’s local shop for “all your dance and costume needs.” Her gaze strayed to the footwear display along the far-right wall. She tugged off her wool cap, unbuttoned her red peacoat, and let the flood of fond memories soothe her soul.

  As if it were yesterday, and even though Mami had been gone since Yaz was in high school, Yaz saw her mother standing there. Her dark curls framing her gentle face. Her patience never wavering despite Yaz’s excitement over buying her first pair of toe shoes. Mami and Papi had championed her every step of the way as she endeavored to take New York by storm.

  Yaz closed her eyes, seeking a brief respite from what had become the weight of expectations wrapped in family pride and love.

  The sound of footsteps drew her attention and she let the memories fade.

  The black curtain behind the glass counter fluttered to the side and Mrs. Morgan came out from the stockroom carrying a large box.

  “Yazmine! What a wonderful surprise!” The older woman plopped the box on the counter and opened her arms for a hug. “I missed you the last time you came by. How are you?”