His Perfect Partner Read online

His mind knew that. Now he just had to figure out a way to convince the rest of him.

  Chapter Four

  “Papi, you holding up okay?” Yazmine asked as they strolled down the neighborhood sidewalk late Sunday afternoon.

  “I’m fine, nena. Stop badgering me.”

  Yaz bit back a frustrated sigh. “I’m not badgering, I’m—”

  “Por favor, don’t worry.”

  The disheartened note in her father’s voice stopped her from pressing him. Instead, she looped her right arm through his left and leaned her head on his shoulder. His wool winter coat scratched her cheek, but she snuggled closer. “I don’t mean to nag, but it’s hard not to worry. Te quiero, Papi.”

  He patted her hand with his. “I love you, too. Now let’s enjoy the beautiful day. Before we know it, snow will fall and a walk to the park will not be as easy.”

  His labored breathing made her think the walk wasn’t so easy for him now. Out of respect, she let the subject go, but her unease wasn’t soothed. She wouldn’t stop worrying until she went with him for his next doctor visit and she had solid answers. In three days Rosa and Lilí would be home for Thanksgiving. She and her sisters would get Papi to talk.

  For now, Yaz simply enjoyed their stroll together along the leaf-strewn sidewalk. They passed brick-and-siding houses, their front porches and wide lawns adorned with pumpkins, pilgrims, and scarecrows. By this time next weekend the fall decorations would be replaced by poinsettias, Santas with reindeer, brightly colored lights, and nativity scenes. Soon snow would fall, blanketing her small town. Turning it into a winter wonderland.

  She breathed in the crisp autumn air, welcoming its refreshing lift to her spirits, then waved back at a group of kids jumping into a pile of gold and red leaves. Their laughter carried on the sharp breeze, calling her to join in the fun.

  Ay, how she loved the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays. The cooking, the caroling. Families reuniting. Some of her fondest memories were of hours spent in the kitchen with Mami, Rosa, and Lilí, while Papi sat at the counter sneaking samples. Christmas morning wasn’t the same without the mouthwatering aroma of a perníl, basted with scrumptious spices, slow-cooking in the oven. She’d learned that truth the hard way her first year in New York.

  Barely scraping by financially, she couldn’t afford time off her waitressing job, or the money to buy a pork roast for a Christmas dinner. On her own, far from her family, she’d never felt more alone in her life.

  “Rosa will be here Tuesday, right?” Papi asked as they turned the corner onto Hamilton Drive.

  Yaz nodded. “And Lilí’s leaving Carbondale as soon as her last class finishes on Wednesday. They’ll both be here in time to help put the turkey in the oven and start peeling the plantains for the tostones.”

  Ooh, she could already taste the fried green plantains.

  Up ahead she caught sight of the rocket-ship slide on the outer edge of the city’s park, their turnaround point to head home. The wind picked up, its cool bite hitting her full in the face and she ducked her head, hunching her shoulders in her peacoat.

  “It will be good to have my girls together again. Mis tres nenas.” The sad, almost wistful note in Papi’s voice as he talked about his three girls drew Yaz’s concerned gaze. His normally cheerful face wore a brooding expression. His dark eyes brimmed with sadness.

  Fear rose up in Yaz, chasing away her good spirits. Even when he’d first been diagnosed, Papi had remained upbeat. Lately though, something had changed. His usual excitement over Rosa and Lilí’s upcoming visit had dimmed. He hadn’t said anything about Los Paisanos having a practice session at the house, and the band always got together over the holidays.

  Her chest tightened with anxiety as she thought back on his recent pallor and fatigue, his glum demeanor. Something had to be wrong.

  “Did you and Pablo talk at the rec center about Los Paisanos coming over next weekend? I’m sure the girls would love to hear you sing again.”

  “No.”

  “How come?”

  “We had other things to discuss.”

  Yaz grit her teeth, frustrated by his curt responses. Questions and fears she longed to voice clogged her throat. If she kept pushing, though, he’d only get exasperated like he had a few moments ago. Or yesterday when she’d pressed for details about his time at the rec center.

  He usually returned relaxed and smiling, happy to share the latest news from Pablo or one of his other cronies. But yesterday he’d come home tired and pale. Sidestepping her questions, he’d asked about her day instead. Still smarting from Tomás’s brush-off at the end of lunch, she hadn’t wanted to share details either.

  Ultimately, neither she nor Papi had wound up with much information about the other’s day.

  They reached the intersection and she trained her gaze on the town’s park and outdoor sports complex across the street. Huge oak trees dotted the land, towering over the park to provide shade during the hot summer months. Today the trees stood like silent, barren sentinels in the crisp autumn air, stark limbs shooting up into the cloudless blue sky.

  The light changed and Papi stepped off the sidewalk.

  “Are you sure you want to cross?” she asked, afraid he’d get overtired if they stayed out too long. “Should we turn back and head home?”

  He shook his head. “Not yet. Let’s sit on a bench for a while and watch the children. Their energy keeps me young.”

  “You should come see some of my students in action. Their energy tires me out.”

  Papi chuckled. “Somehow, I don’t think so. You’re too strong for that.”

  Yaz laid her head on his shoulder again, buoyed by the return of his playful teasing. The rightness of the moment, of being here with him, calmed her. After her years alone in New York, she’d come to cherish time with her family. Since his health scare, she’d especially come to cherish every day with Papi.

  Ay, she would miss walks like this when she left home again. It was one of many sacrifices she had to make for her profession, especially if she wanted to make her family and others in their small town proud.

  Somehow she’d have to learn to cope with her homesickness. Grow a thicker skin to deal with the cutthroat mentality in the dance world. Prove to her cheating bastard of an ex that he was wrong. She could cut it in New York.

  Because her dreams weren’t the only ones at stake.

  Papi’s plans to pursue a music career had brought her parents to the Chicago area from their native Puerto Rico years ago. But when Mami developed complications during her pregnancy with Yaz, Papi found a more traditional job to pay the medical bills and provide for his growing family.

  Countless times Yaz had thought about how successful Papi and Los Paisanos would have been if she hadn’t come along so soon.

  Papi may have given up his dream, but she’d never disappoint him by giving up on their dream for her.

  “Do you remember when I used to practice dance while you and the guys rehearsed in the basement?” Yaz asked.

  “Ay, those were the days, ha nena? I still love watching you dance, seeing you thrill the audience. It makes me proud.”

  Yaz clasped her hand with his. Her triumph as a Broadway performer was a gift she could give him. Small payment for all he’d set aside for her and her sisters.

  “Mira.” Papi pointed to a dark-haired little girl wearing a pink puffer coat over jeans and a pair of pink sneakers. “She reminds me of you girls at her age.”

  Yaz slowed her steps as she recognized the child.

  Legs pumping, Maria Garcia ran toward the swing set amid shrieks of joy. Behind her, looking far too good in faded jeans, a scoop-necked black sweater peeking out from under his dark leather jacket, Tomás pretended to give chase, his mock evil laughter ringing in the cool wind.

  Since his about-face and hasty retreat from Luigi’s yesterday, the man had strayed far too often into Yaz’s thoughts, despite her attempts to banish him. Along with her lingering attraction.

  He
r quickened pulse alerted her that she hadn’t quite succeeded.

  Maria reached the swings at about the same time Yaz and Papi reached the edge of the grass surrounding the play area.

  “Hey, Ms. Yazmine!” Maria threw her swing aside, sending it flying in the air to loop over the top bar. “Papá, look who’s here!”

  Yaz grinned at Maria’s exuberant greeting.

  “How come you’re here?” Maria asked, her breath coming in short gasps when she skidded to a stop in front of Yaz.

  “I’m taking a walk with my dad. Papi, this is Maria Garcia, one of my special dancers at Hanson’s. I think I mentioned we had lunch at Luigi’s yesterday. Maria, this is my dad, Señor Fernandez.”

  While her father coaxed a shy smile out of Maria, Yaz looked up to find Tomás dragging his feet through the grass, apparently loath to move closer. The frown marring his handsome features said he wasn’t pleased to see her.

  The feeling was mutual. Well, mostly mutual. “Hello,” she said, aiming for cool and detached, though not quite sure she got there.

  He responded with a brusque nod.

  Like an idiot, she actually missed his playful banter, the flash of his sexy dimple.

  “Reynaldo Fernandez, encantado.” Papi held out his hand to shake.

  “Tomás Garcia. It’s a pleasure to meet you, too. Your daughter is quite talented. My Maria enjoys her class.”

  Yaz drank in Tomás’s praise, calling herself all kinds of a fool for enjoying it.

  “Gracias, I think she is one of a kind myself.” Papi pulled Yaz to his side in a one-armed hug. “She’s always been my little star, ha nena?”

  “Papi, por favor,” Yaz mumbled, embarrassed by his bragging. Though her certainty about her skills might waver from time to time, his remained constant.

  “I’m sure you have much to be proud of.”

  Yaz frowned at Tomás’s stiff-upper-lip tone.

  Maria tugged lightly on Yazmine’s coat sleeve, pulling her attention away from Tomás. “Will you push me on the swing?”

  “Sur—”

  “M’ija, don’t bother her,” Tomás cut in. “We don’t want to intrude on their walk.”

  Irritation bubbled up in Yazmine’s belly, pushing her to tell him where he could stick his overly polite façade. “Maria is never a bo—”

  “That sounds like a good idea.” Papi jumped into the conversation before Yazmine could voice her snappy comeback. “I need to sit on the bench and rest a few minutes. My stamina isn’t what it used to be.”

  The fight in her instantly evaporated. “Are you feeling okay?”

  “Sí, sí, don’t worry. I only need a short rest.” Papi patted her arm, probably sensing her concern. “Yazmine, why don’t you push the little one for awhile. Then she and Tomás can join us for dinner at our home?”

  “Papi, I don’t think—”

  “We wouldn’t want to—”

  “Yeah!”

  Maria’s cry of approval superseded Tomás’s and Yaz’s denials.

  “We have a big pot of asopao,” Reynaldo said, bending down to Maria, an obvious ally in his plan. “If you don’t help us eat it, we’ll be stuck having leftover soup for days.”

  Maria’s scrunched-up face let him know how little she enjoyed leftovers. “Por favor, Papá,” she begged Tomás. “Can we go? Please, please.”

  Yaz held her breath, hoping he’d say no. Unable to quiet the silly voice in her head joining in Maria’s pleas for him to say yes.

  “¡Por favor!” Maria continued, her hands clasped in prayer in front of her. One firm glance from Tomás was enough to silence her.

  “Gracias,” he said to Papi. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m sure you didn’t plan on surprise guests. Perhaps some other time.”

  His taut shoulders and grim expression told Yaz he’d rather there not be another time. She squelched a flare of disappointment.

  From the beginning she’d known Tomás was a man to steer clear of. His fickleness only confirmed her opinion.

  “I insist,” Reynaldo pressed, straightening to his full five-foot-eight height. Though he remained nearly half a foot shorter than Tomás, experience reminded Yaz that Papi was still a man to be reckoned with once he set his mind to something. “To thank you for treating my Yazmine to lunch yesterday while I played dominoes.”

  Yaz bit back a groan. Great, now she sounded like a charity case.

  “Come on, Papá.” Maria gave Tomás one of the best hang-dog expressions Yaz had seen in ages, all sad eyes and pouty lips. “Mrs. B is gone and you’re gonna be stuck cooking for us.”

  Leaning toward Reynaldo, the girl lifted a hand to block one side of her mouth as she stage whispered, “And he’s not very good at it.”

  Papi put his hands out, palms up, and laughed. “Bueno, there you go.”

  If there was ever a be-careful-what-you-wish-for moment, this was it. Earlier Yaz had grumbled about Papi’s melancholy mood, wishing he’d perk up, get back to his old self. She loved hearing his booming laughter again, but there had to be another way to cheer him up other than inviting Tomás into her home.

  “Papi, I’m not—” Yaz argued, only to have her words drowned out by Tomás.

  “I really don’t want to put you out . . .” Tomás trailed off as Reynaldo shook his head.

  “Por favor. No es molestia. I would not offer if it was a bother. You will come for dinner. I even have a brand-new tin of florecitas to share.”

  “Florecitas?” Maria asked, her cute face lit with interest.

  “Sí, little flower cookies from the Island. The perfect size for you.”

  Maria’s eyes widened, her mouth forming a little “oh” of excitement.

  “See,” Papi said on a laugh. “We don’t want to disappoint the little one, no? It’s settled then.”

  After a quick wink for Maria, Papi ambled over to the bench near the merry-go-round.

  Maria let out a whoop of joy and ran off to choose her swing.

  Yaz stuffed her hands into her coat pockets and let out an exasperated huff.

  A befuddled expression settled onto Tomás’s face. “The man certainly knows how to win an argument, doesn’t he? He’d be a killer in boardroom negotiations.”

  “No doubt.” Yaz bobbed her head at Papi’s wave when he sat down.

  “He lived with a house full of women. He’s survived PMS, boyfriend heartaches, and insanely high estrogen levels.” Yaz lifted her shoulders in a resigned shrug. “I should have known you and I didn’t stand a chance. Papi doesn’t put his foot down too often. But when he does, he means it.”

  Tomás’s deep chuckle snaked up her spine, wrapping around her chest to steal her breath. “I’ll have to remember that next time.”

  She doubted there would be a next time. Though part of her hoped there would.

  “Are you coming?” Maria called.

  “Be patient.” Tomás took a few steps toward the swing set, then paused to look over his shoulder at Yaz. “Are you up for this?”

  Torn between following him or running for the hills, she hesitated.

  Ultimately, Maria’s ear-to-ear grin lulled Yaz out of indecision.

  “Can I have an underdoggie? Por favor,” Maria added at her father’s raised brow.

  Tomás grabbed Maria’s seat with both hands to give her a big push, then he quickly stepped forward and ducked under her swing.

  Maria squealed with delight.

  “How about if I give you one, too?” Yaz asked, wanting to join in the child’s fun.

  “¡Sí!” Maria cried.

  Yaz reached for the seat as it swung back toward her. Following Tomás’s example, she ran under the chair, pushing it high into the air. She ducked to avoid getting whacked in the head and her foot sank awkwardly into the protective gravel scattered around the area. Her knee buckled, throwing her off balance, and she yelped in surprise.

  “Whoa, cuidado.” Tomás reached out to catch her before her face made close and personal contact with th
e ground. Instead, it made close and personal contact with his muscular chest.

  She grabbed his biceps for support and suddenly falling was the last thing on her mind.

  His muscles flexed under her grip. Awareness zapped her fingers, shooting straight to her core.

  His words of caution moments ago took on a whole new meaning.

  Ducking her head in embarrassment, she accidentally pressed her nose to the warmth of his neck. She inhaled, filling her lungs with his musky male scent, a hint of a woodsy aftershave adding a little extra kick. In a flash, she felt more woozy than if she’d downed a few Bacardi and Diet Cokes.

  Ay, no dreams, no matter how vivid, did justice to the all-too-real potency of this man.

  “Is your knee hurt?”

  She felt his words vibrate along his neck, rumble through his chest, and into her.

  That easily, she found herself falling again, this time for him.

  Alarms shrilled in her head.

  “Ms. Yazmine, you okay?” Maria’s sweet, little-girl voice cushioned Yazmine’s free fall into trouble.

  Was she okay? Not really.

  With Victor, at least she hadn’t realized how big a mistake she was making. The man was an incredible dancer, but he’d turned out to be a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Or nice dance wear, anyway.

  With Tomás there was no getting around it. Falling for him was a big fat no. Capital N. Capital O. Capped off with an exclamation point!

  New York. Success. Atoning for Papi’s dashed dreams.

  She repeated the words in her head, focusing on what they meant. Rather than on giving in to the tingling sensations being near Tomás brought to life inside her.

  “I’m fine. Though for a second there I thought I’d be eating gravel for dinner,” Yaz joked, hoping laughter would defuse the situation.

  Regaining her footing, she straightened and looked up at Tomás.

  Wrong move.

  His face was only inches away from hers. Much too close.

  “Uh, thank you.” She cleared her throat, hoping Tomás didn’t hear the damn-I-think-you’re-hot rasp in her voice.

  A light flared in his dark mahogany eyes, turning them to melted chocolate. For the briefest moment she swore she felt his arms tighten around her. Then he dropped his hands to his sides and stepped back. “You’re welcome.”