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Love Tango
J.M. Jeffries
The rhythm of desireFormer child star Roxanne Deveraux is stepping back into the spotlight. Tired of growing up in front of sitcom cameras, she left Hollywood and her controlling parents to finally follow her true passion which exists off stage. Still, the offer to appear on Celebrity Dance is hard to resist—as is Nicholas Torres, her dance partner. He’s creative, passionate, and they’re growing more and more in sync—until family interference throws everything off balance.Nick had a hunch that Roxanne would prove a smash-hit contestant. But he’s taken aback by her beauty, poise and his desire to partner her off the dance floor. Watching her confidence and skill soar each week is a thrill. But as Roxanne’s chaotic past resurfaces, and a secret threatens to tear his own family apart, both must weigh old loyalties against the promise of a brilliant future together.
The rhythm of desire
Former child star Roxanne Deveraux is stepping back into the spotlight. Tired of growing up in front of sitcom cameras, she left Hollywood and her controlling parents to finally follow her true passion, which exists offstage. Still, the offer to appear on Celebrity Dance is hard to resist—as is Nicholas Torres, her dance partner. He’s creative, passionate, and they’re growing more and more in sync—until family interference throws everything off balance.
Nick had a hunch that Roxanne would prove a smash-hit contestant. But he’s taken aback by her beauty, poise and his desire to partner with her off the dance floor. Watching her confidence and skill soar each week is a thrill. But as Roxanne’s chaotic past resurfaces and a secret threatens to tear his own family apart, both must weigh old loyalties against the promise of a brilliant future together.
“I don’t think we should give the neighbors a show,” she said. She held out her hand and led him into the house and straight to her bedroom.
Warmth rose off his skin. He smelled like cool water and man. She bit her bottom lip, realizing she was lost. She let her gaze explore him, from his wide shoulders down to his narrow waist. She wanted him so badly.
Desire rose inside her and should have scared her, but didn’t. He made her feel safe, protected, but mostly wanted. Very wanted. That sensation hadn’t happened to her in a long time. Her stomach somersaulted as he moved closer. She closed her eyes for a second and imagined his hands on her body, his lips on hers. Nick was her every fantasy come to life.
He shrugged. “Roxanne. Tell me you want me.”
She tilted her head. “I do.”
He brushed a strand of hair off her cheek and answered her with a seductive smile. The tip of his finger left a trail of fire on her skin. “Good.”
Dear Reader (#ub6e1d781-2f46-50f3-b32b-818cac7169fc),
For Jackie and me, finding a way to work together and make it look effortless takes time and teamwork. It’s not always as easy as it looks. Sometimes Jackie gives me this “what the devil are you talking about” look. And then I say something that confuses her even more. We argue, we shoot arrows of irony at each other, and we shake our heads in confusion. But at the end of the day, we have one goal—to write the best book we can possibly write.
For Nick Torres and Roxanne Deveraux, finding a way to create an effortless dance routine takes cooperation and persistence. Roxanne thinks she’s clumsy, but Nick thinks she’s perfect. After hours and hours of rehearsal, they perform in a way that not only entertains but strengthens the bond that will bring them together as they search for their happy-ever-after.
Much love,
Miriam and Jackie
Love Tango
Jackie and Miriam
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
JACKIE AND MIRIAM have been writing partners for twenty years, though some days it feels like forever. Jackie is a spontaneous writer and Miriam is the planner. Despite such diverse approaches to writing, they have managed to achieve a balance between their unique styles. Jackie is creative, passionate and dedicated. Miriam is focused, thoughtful and detail-oriented. Jackie loves dogs and thinks she doesn’t have enough of them. Miriam loves cats, though currently, she is catless. Between the two of them, they work hard to bring their stories to life.
To all our loyal readers: thank you for trusting us and allowing us to tell the stories of our hearts.
Acknowledgments (#ub6e1d781-2f46-50f3-b32b-818cac7169fc)
To the entire Harlequin Kimani Romance team, thank you for all of your hard work, dedication and patience. You make us look good.
Contents
Cover (#ue1bc26ef-1cd4-5630-bfca-0a3986b2fffd)
Back Cover Text (#udd8a633c-102e-563a-a1e2-07af260ff833)
Introduction (#u7a2cbbed-d446-53e8-b351-2bb6b11cd35c)
Dear Reader (#uf14eaf26-8ff8-5e7b-bd34-46ad1eb311b0)
Title Page (#udbd5a4cd-930d-5c8f-9e3e-01db73bb2e26)
About the Author (#ufe8ac551-6991-5018-9d49-c411ba43ab4f)
Dedication (#u9680eb88-a15e-5631-ba95-d051e1322343)
Acknowledgments (#u8a9a60a6-0cd6-5a74-baa0-01d416811c76)
Chapter 1 (#ua09e1d4e-795b-577d-85ec-ab65f6f43c6a)
Chapter 2 (#u9b8f8cdb-da05-5a11-a506-c675039d7b73)
Chapter 3 (#u86243d9f-1bc3-52f5-a58c-53248266ac1e)
Chapter 4 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 1 (#ub6e1d781-2f46-50f3-b32b-818cac7169fc)
Roxanne Deveraux sat at her dining room table, genealogy charts spread out around her. The front door to her house slammed. No one slammed a door like her sister, Portia.
Portia stormed into the dining room, thumped her purse down on the table and glared at her sister. She dropped a pile of scripts down on the table. “Here’s your weekly pile of scripts from Mom and Dad.”
“What’s wrong?” Roxanne asked in a mild voice designed to calm her sister. For almost the first half of her life, she had been the peacemaker, the problem solver in a family that thrived on chaos.
“I’ll tell you in a minute. Did you know you’re trending?” Portia asked, as she pulled out her iPad, woke it up and scrolled through the screens. “In fact, you have been for the last three days.”
“I really haven’t done anything.”
“You play a corpse for five minutes on Bayside PD and people take notice. After all, it’s the number one cop show.”
“I was alive for thirty seconds before I was a corpse.” Acting was now her creative hobby and she used her gigs to get celebrity clients for her genealogy business and keep her SAG membership active. “Even a corpse on a number one show gets paid and I get to look at hot actors.”
“Mom and Dad weren’t impressed.” Portia took several deep breaths, as though willing herself to calm down. The anger in her dark brown eyes slowly faded and her breathing evened out.
“I do it just to irritate them.” Roxanne stood and neatly gathered up the charts and placed them in a folder next to her laptop.
“Mom says it’s a waste of your talent.” She gestured at the pile of scripts. “Plus even a bit part is going to give you money that isn’t going into their pockets, which is also a point of contention.”
“No, it’s not. I get exactly what I need out of it.” Even though she hadn’t talked to her parents in years, they still felt the need to meddle in her life.
Portia’s phone chimed and she rummaged in her purse for her phone and turned it completely off.
For two women from the same parents they were as dissimilar as two sisters could be. They resembled each other in their facial structure, high cheekbones, large brown eyes and elegant lips.
Roxanne stood five foot ten in her stocking feet, slim and trim from all the jogging and yoga she did. Portia, at twenty-two, was six years younger, five inches shorter, curvier in the bosom and hips and in some ways more volatile. She was into kickboxing and tae kwon do. While Roxanne’s hair was cut into a fashionable shape and left in its natural curly state, Portia had gone for a straightened hairdo, cut into a stylish bob in a Naomi Campbell way. Portia’s tawny skin tone and amber eyes were slightly darker than Roxanne’s.
Roxanne liked to dress in casual clothing, though today she wore a black pencil skirt with a scarlet leather jacket belted around the waist, black kitten heel shoes and a gold locket nestled against her throat. Portia, who was more fashion conscious and usually wore clothes more cutting-edge in the latest trend, had chosen an ivory pants suit with a short black jacket and a colorful Hermès scarf. A platinum necklace in the shape of a panther with emerald eyes winked against the darkness of her jacket.
“Going back to why you’re angry at Mom and Dad.”
Portia sighed. “Among many things, they want me to convince you to let them be your agents again. Even the residuals from your old sitcom still bring in a lot of money and they want to capitalize on it.”
While the residuals were okay, each year brought a little less since the show wasn’t always on the schedule as it became dated and secondary networks had more choices. She was still dependent on her parents sending her the money since it went to them first. She couldn’t always depend on them paying out in a timely manner.
Portia gestured at the pile of scripts and picked up the one on top. “I’m supposed to talk you into this movie.”
“I was in a movie last year.”
“You played a salesgirl. You were on screen for exactly four and half minutes.”
“I enjoyed that role, small as it was.”
Portia issued another sigh. She picked up the script and held it out to Roxanne. “If you accept this role, their commission will pay the balance of Dad’s past-due taxes. You’ve always been the big moneymaker in the family. Me, I’m just a minor actress who does commercials and voice-overs. Plus the positive media they’d get from having you involved with one of their projects—especially since things have gone downhill since your emancipation—would go a long way into reviving their business reputation.”
“I’m not interested in helping him pay off his back taxes. Dad’s IRS problem isn’t our fault,” Roxanne said. “He did it on his own. If he’d filed properly and claimed all the income he was supposed to claim, he wouldn’t be in this fix.” Instead of trying to hide the fact that he’d borrowed heavily from her trust fund for reasons he’d never totally explained.
“His scheduled payments are going to last at least another two years. Failure to make any of his payments on time could land him in jail. I’m counting the days until I can stop working and maybe get in to UC Davis.” Portia had always been into animal rescue and her dream was to be a veterinarian. In her spare time she volunteered at the Los Angeles Zoo.
“But...” Roxanne coaxed. She’d offered to pay for her schooling, but Portia turned her down time after time because their parents already exploited Roxanne for money and Portia felt accepting money from her sister would make her just like them.
“They’re pressuring me to sign another two-year contract with them. I feel guilty because I don’t want to stay in this business and yet—” she paused, the conflict she was feeling showing on her face “—even I can’t argue with the money. I have almost enough put away for school.”
“You always were the nice daughter.” Roxanne gave her sister a kiss on the cheek.
Portia rubbed her forehead and Roxanne hoped one of her migraines wasn’t about to start.
Portia frowned. “I’d rather be like you—the smart, stealthy daughter who got away.”
Roxanne’s parents had never forgiven her for emancipating herself when she was sixteen and all but walking away from the business. After eleven years on a popular family sitcom, she hadn’t wanted to be a full-time actress anymore. The industry had become more and more obsessed with an actress’s physical appearance and less appreciative of a woman’s talent, and Roxanne was tired of fitting into someone else’s mold. With her grandmother’s encouragement, she’d won an early admittance to Berkeley and eventually earned a degree in history at the age of twenty and her parents hadn’t spoken to her since.
Roxanne, who’d always been interested in genealogy, had taken her hobby and turned it into a small business that she’d been trying to expand into something more the past couple years. She used her own colorful ancestry, which had turned out to be filled with swindlers and con artists, as part of her sales pitch to her clients to show them what could be found.
“You look really nice.” Portia motioned for Roxanne to turn around, studying her clothes. “You should have worn those stilettos instead of the shoes you’re wearing. I know they add inches to your height you don’t want, but they make your legs look really long and sexy and every man in the restaurant will be watching you.”
She didn’t want every man in the restaurant watching her—especially when she might fall on her face walking in stilettos. She wouldn’t consider herself the most coordinated.
Portia reached behind her neck and unfastened her panther necklace. “Take off that locket and wear this instead.”
“Where did you get that?” Roxanne hadn’t seen the necklace before.
“Mom bought it and then decided she didn’t like it and gave it to me. It’s really more your style than mine anyway, but I like it.”
“Like Nancy is going to care what I’m wearing.”
Roxanne had met Nancy several years ago when Roxanne had a small part on a sitcom Nancy’s husband, Mike, produced. Nancy had been on the set and curious about an ancestry chart Roxanne had done for another member of the cast. Curious about her own ancestry, Nancy hired Roxanne to investigate and they’d become friends. Portia, who occasionally helped with the searches, had formed her own friendship with the older woman. Roxanne fastened the heavy platinum necklace around her neck and glanced at herself in the mirror over the sideboard. She’d worn her hair up in a French twist. The necklace added just that last bit of style she knew she needed to emphasize her long, slender neck. Leave it to Portia to recognize exactly what would complete an outfit.
“Nancy is all about appearances and she expects you to show up looking classy,” Portia said, opening the front door and gesturing toward the car. “Let’s go, you know how Nancy hates waiting.”
* * *
“Nancy,” Roxanne said, surprised. “I hope we’re not late.” Ever since Nancy’s phone call asking to meet for lunch at her favorite restaurant, Believe, Roxanne had been curious.
Nancy Bertram was a tiny woman, barely five feet tall with an even tinier waist. Roxanne found it hard to believe her petite body had birthed two lusty boys and one girl. But more than that, Roxanne had always envied Nancy’s unerring sense of fashion, from the peach Louboutins on her feet to the matching Chanel suit and tiny gold starburst pin on the collar.
The hostess seated them in a comfortable booth in the back of the restaurant and handed them menus.
“What’s going on?” Roxanne asked. “You seemed urgent to see me.”
Nancy grinned. “My husband sent me to ask if you’d like to be on Celebrity Dance.” Her husband produced a number of shows, all of them dramas except for Celebrity Dance.
Roxanne’s stomach dropped to the floor. Dancing? On television? This wasn’t acting, this was a coordination test—one she was sure to fail.
“What? I mean why?” Celebrity Dance had only been on television for a year, but was already popular, challenging Dancing with the Stars for top ratings. Roxanne had a hard time seeing herself on the show. She wasn’t very graceful and didn’t know how to dance.
Nancy whipped out her iPad and swiped across the screen. She held it out to Roxanne. “Have you read any of the comments about your small role in Bayside PD from the last episode?”
“I never read those comments. The only thing I read is to make sure my name is spelled correctly on my paycheck.”
Nancy took her iPad back. “In the few minutes your character was on scene, you created your own following. People bonded with your character and spent the rest of the show wondering who killed you and why.”
“A lot of advertising featured me in it. Maybe the audience was just curious.”
“Bayside PD has been solidly placed this year and ratings have been steadily growing. Something about this episode just piqued a lot of interest in your character.” Nancy shook her head, her elegant blond bob swishing back and forth and settling back into style without one hair out of place.
