Hard To Forget

Thank God he’d shown up. Her patience had been rewarded. She hadn’t been forced to go looking for him. At least now their meeting would be construed as accidental.

Oh, if the powers that be only knew how much she hated having to pretend to be friendly toward this guy, they would nominate her for a medal for serving her country above and beyond the call of duty. Much, much beyond.

She watched him in the mirror mounted behind the bar.

Joe paused at the jukebox at the other end of the bar and made several selections before walking to the middle of the bar and ordering a drink. Several of the men clustered at the other end turned and greeted him, keeping him in conversation. Now she had to decide how to handle this first encounter.

She’d studied his file and looked at his photo until she had it memorized, but she still wasn’t prepared to see how the added inches in height and the extra pounds that were part of his vital statistics made him even more attractive than he had been eleven years ago.

Whatever he’d done in the army had given him a physique most women would sigh for.

Not her, of course.

She knew the person inside. She knew him for the piece of cow dung he was, but she had to admit that he managed to fill out a pair of jeans just fine.

Oh, my, yes. He certainly did.

She hadn’t missed the glances he’d received from the other women in the place as soon as he walked in and while he’d studied the titles on the jukebox. In those snug jeans he wore, he was a walking advertisement for buns of steel. His feminine audience was definitely appreciative. She could practically hear the lip smacking going on.

She sipped her beer and mentally made a face at the taste. Maybe tonight would be the last time she would have to order that particular beverage. A good white wine was her drink of choice, but she shuddered to think what she might have been served if she’d dared to order wine here.

Elena knew that her thoughts were going in six different directions. What difference did it make what she was drinking or what the other women thought of Joe Sanchez? She had to focus on what was important, why she was here. She had to figure out a way to cause him to notice her without making it obvious.

Eventually he glanced into the mirror and caught her gaze.

Oh, that’s not obvious, Maldonado. Staring at the guy like some lovelorn soul until he catches you.

Rather than pretend he hadn’t caught her staring at him, she held his gaze for a long moment before she tilted her glass toward him in a slight—a very slight—salute. She took a sip without dropping her gaze.

He turned his head and looked squarely at her, his forearms resting on the bar so that his carefully sculpted butt stood out in relief. She had no doubt he knew exactly the effect he had on most women.

Just not her.

Never her.

She put her suddenly racing pulse down to the fact that she had finally made contact with her quarry.

She deliberately glanced at her watch, then drank some more from her beer without looking directly at him again. From the corner of her eye she watched as he called Chico over and said something to him. Between the music blaring from the jukebox and the lively discussions going on around her, she couldn’t hear what he said. However, it didn’t take a brain surgeon to guess that he was asking Chico about her.

She saw the shocked look on his face when Chico answered him and almost smiled. Yeah, Sanchez, I imagine I’m the last person you’d expect to find here in Santiago.

He straightened without taking his eyes off her. After tilting the bottle to his mouth and letting the golden liquid flow down his throat, Joe ambled along the bar until he came to the short arm of the L where she sat.

He leaned his elbow on the bar as he continued to look at her.

She didn’t move, but kept her hand lightly wrapped around her almost empty glass.

Up close she could see the lines that bracketed his mouth, as well as the sun lines radiating from the corners of his eyes. The dent in his chin appeared to be more pronounced. She’d grown used to looking at the photograph of him staring at the camera without expression. Now his eyes showed their shock and a warmth that surprised her.

“I don’t believe it,” he said softly, his gaze taking in each of her features as though mentally comparing them with earlier memories. He spoke below the blaring music and boisterous conversations so that she heard his words as clearly as if he’d whispered them in her ear. “I’m out of town for a few days and look who I find is here when I return.”

She suppressed the shiver that ran through her body. She’d forgotten how his deep voice had always had such a strong effect on her. In a flash she was that shy teenager again, reacting to his good looks and blatant charm.

Somebody help me, I’m drowning in memories here, she thought in panic.

“Hello, Joe,” she said quietly, then quickly picked up her glass and drained it.

He immediately signaled Chico to bring her another as he sat down on the stool at the elbow of the bar, so that they were almost facing each other. She was thankful she’d chosen to sit next to the wall. Now she turned on the stool and casually braced herself against the wall, hoping to look relaxed and totally at ease with this meeting, thankful for the three barstools that separated them.

“Elena Maldonado,” he let the syllables of her name roll off his tongue as though savoring each one. “I would never have recognized you if Chico hadn’t told me it was you hiding over here in the shadows.” His voice was filled with admiration and pleasure.

Chico arrived with her drink, wearing a grin. “What do you say, man? She’s looking pretty good, don’t you think?”

Chico’s presence gave her the time she needed to get a grip on her emotions. She’d known for a week that her ultimate goal was to make contact with Joe in a believable manner.

So far, so good.

Elena gave each of them a slow sensuous smile. “Thank you both,” she replied. Once Chico left, she tilted her glass and carefully refilled it from the new bottle before she glanced at Joe and said, “I believe Chico mentioned that you still lived around here. It is Joe Sanchez, isn’t it?” she asked casually, determined not to let him know how much she was affected by this encounter.

She was a professional. She could do this.

His smile flashed white in his darkly tanned face. “That’s right. I’m surprised you remembered.”

She lifted one shoulder. “Oh, you really haven’t changed all that much since you were our high-school football hero.” She fluttered her lashes at him mockingly and sipped from her full glass.

Interesting. He actually flushed.

“What did you do after we finished high school?” she asked, as though she couldn’t recite to him everything she’d found in his dossier about the past eleven years. At least what he had done legally. He had no criminal record. Yet. She hoped to change that before all this was over.

He looked down at his drink as though surprised to see it in front of him. “I got that scholarship to go to A & M. Opted to go into the army once I graduated.” He paused, then cleared his throat. “I was discharged three months ago.”

She lifted an eyebrow and smiled. “Decided not to reenlist?”

He looked away and her gaze followed his to two couples dancing. She thought he wasn’t going to answer her before he finally turned back to her and said, “I needed to come home.”

I just bet you did.

He leaned forward. “No kidding, I can’t believe how great you look these days. No glasses, that long hair cut off—” he leaned to the side so that he could see more of her “—and you’ve filled out in all the right places.”

She could have said the same thing about him.

But she didn’t.