Still in Love

Cortez removed his sunglasses, almost as if in slow motion, and Nadine felt the full strength of his gaze, like a blow to her chest. Her breath held for a beat, rendering her motionless, tightening every muscle in her body. In that moment, she was very much like one of his millions of adoring fans. Transfixed. Thrilled, that of all the people hurrying by, he’d chosen to lavish her with his attention.

Finally she found her voice. “Hello, Cortez. It’s been a long time.”

Three years, in fact, since they’d last seen each other in person. Their split had been less than amicable, and in all that time she’d only seen the odd photo of him online, but mostly the photos she did see were pictures Antonella shared after each trip. By silent, mutual agreement, their only contact was by phone or email. Elsa, her former sister-in-law, had been the one to escort Antonella south every year on a chartered flight.

“Nadine.” Nah-deen. He and his entire family said her name the same way, using a lyrical, almost poetic pronunciation. But his voice…God, his voice was like the gentle strum of a guitar—deep and enticing, and made her want to lean into the sound.

His eyes roamed over her, gaze lingering on her breasts and skimming her hips, before dropping lower to her denim-clad thighs. The thorough examination left her tingling all over.

“You have not changed much,” he murmured, almost to himself.

The warm-sounding compliment made her heart ache. This was what she’d been dreading ever since her decision to come—the face-to-face with Cortez and having to endure the emotions he’d evoke.

“Neither have you, so we’re even.”

He’d been a gorgeous young man, in every sense of the word, and as an older, mature-looking man, he could clearly still turn heads. His eyes, gray with hints of blue, showed signs of wrinkles at the corners, but age had simply ripened his looks, giving him a more distinguished appearance.

Tall and very broad, Cortez was half-Italian and half-Argentine, and exemplified what could happen when two equally attractive people fell in love and procreated. His father had come to the country as part of a wave of Italian and Spanish immigrants from Europe and fallen in love with Cortez’s mother. They married and proceeded to have a large family of three boys and three girls.

“I think you must be blind.” A sexy smile lifted one side of his mouth. During the height of his popularity as a recording artist, that same expression had been duplicated on posters and advertisements around the continent, plastered on the walls of teenaged girls, and made the hearts of women of every ethnicity go pitter-patter. “I have many more gray hairs since the last time I saw you.” He touched a hand to his silky hair.

Now that he was no longer in the public eye and hounded by adoring fans, he’d allowed his hair to grow a little longer, the curling mass dusting his collar and ears. Silver around the temples indicated middle age had caught up with him, but by his fit body and trim waist, he might have been caught, but not yet conquered.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it,” Nadine said. “You look fine.”

They stared at each other, the moment a little awkward, and the air becoming thick and soupy with the burden of unspoken thoughts. Right as Cortez opened his mouth to talk, Antonella tugged his hand, drawing their attention and slamming the door on whatever was transpiring between them.

“Let’s go, Papá. I’m ready to see everybody.”

One would think Antonella hadn’t been here just six months before, but she’d lived in Argentina the first nine years of her life, and though she’d become acclimated to the United States very quickly, she loved her home country and her family one hundred times more.

Cortez’s face softened, filling with affection as he looked at his daughter. “After you, mi amor.”

Antonella hurried into the back of the vehicle, and Cortez extended an arm toward the open door. “After you,” he said to Nadine.

“Thank you.”

She slid past him and climbed into the plush interior. She settled onto the leather seat beside Antonella, and Cortez joined them, sitting with his back to the front.

“Are you taking me to Elsa’s first?” Nadine asked, setting her purse on the seat next to her.

Her sister-in-law had offered to let Nadine stay in one of the bedrooms of her three-bedroom condo.

“Didn’t she tell you?” Cortez frowned at her.

“Tell me what?”

“You’re staying at the house.”

Nadine’s heart jolted at the news. “I—I don’t understand. Elsa said I’d be staying at her place.”

Cortez crossed his legs and extended a hand across the back of the leather seat. “Change of plans. Two of her close college girlfriends who originally couldn’t make it were able to come and they’re staying at her condo. She asked me if you could stay at the house, and I told her that was fine. That’s not a problem, is it?”

“No, of course not.” Unless one considered a week in the same house as her ex-husband a problem.

Nadine was very aware of Antonella’s presence, and she didn’t want to give the impression that they couldn’t get along.

“Gustavo and his family will be coming to stay for the wedding,” Cortez said, referring to his older brother, “but there’s plenty of room at the house.”

“I know. I used to live there.” Nadine wished she could pull back the words. She’d meant to only state a fact but had sounded bitchy instead.

A muscle in his cheek twitched. “Yes, you did.” The words sounded like an indictment of wrongdoing rather than a simple statement.

Abruptly, he shifted his attention to Antonella. “How was the trip, mi amor?”

They lapsed into Spanish to continue the conversation.

As the vehicle rolled toward the gated community where Cortez lived, impending dread rode along in Nadine’s stomach. She wondered how she’d make it through the next seven days without falling apart, in a house she used to live in, with the man she used to love.