he was in town, he worked out of his garage on people’s cars. Folks were surprised to discover he was such a good mechanic.
Then he reminisced about what a great wide receiver Joe had been in high school, what an outstanding team they’d had their senior year when they went to the finals before losing out to some school up north. Up north in Texas, that is. Few people in their circle ever left Texas.
While Chico had been pouring her second beer the previous evening, he’d asked, “So whatever happened to you, Elena? You seemed to disappear as soon as we graduated. Now you say you’ve been working in Maryland?” He made the place sound as though it was located on an asteroid in another galaxy.
She shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. But it didn’t really work out.”
Most of her classmates had been content to stay in Santiago once they finished school. She, on the other hand, had counted first the years, then the months and finally the days until she could leave the dusty streets of the small border town. Once gone, she’d never looked back. To paraphrase the title of an old country song, happiness to her was seeing Santiago, Texas, in the rearview mirror.
Elena would have been content never to return here for more than brief visits with her mother. So where was she sent for her first and probably only field assignment?
Santiago, Texas.
The irony of the situation was inescapable.
Elena glanced at her watch. It was after ten o’clock. She supposed she had gathered enough information for one day. She wondered how Chris and the other men were doing with their assignments. She was supposed to meet Chris in San Antonio the day after tomorrow for her first debriefing. She hadn’t done badly in gathering general information, but she had nothing specific to report, which irked her.
Oh, well. She might as well go home, visit with her mom for a while and get to bed. Another exciting day in Santiago was drawing to a close.
A couple of the men at the bar said their goodbyes and headed toward the front door. When it swung open, a man stepped inside, moving out of their way and greeting them with a smile and a few words.
Elena glanced up, her glass halfway to her mouth, then stared.
She recognized him immediately. She straightened on the barstool and watched as he sauntered across the small area cleared for dancing as if he owned the place.
Joe Sanchez, as I live and breathe, she thought sarcastically. Her next thought was, It’s about time.
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
