Forbidden Lovers. Kimberley Troutte

table outside for Juanita to take his order. Some of the same old codgers sat at the other tables eating menudo and yakking above the polka beat playing in the background. It was as if he’d never left. Except that Julia wasn’t with him this time.

      A young girl slapped a basket of chips on his table followed by a small bowl of salsa. “Ready to order, mister?”

      “You’re not Juanita.”

      “Good one. And you’re not George Clooney. Juanita is working her other job today. I’m Ana.”

      Other job? Was Juanita in financial trouble? “Where? I’m an old friend in town for a few days. I’d like to see her.”

      “Sorry. It’s a secret job. As in, I don’t even know where she is. You want something to drink?”

      Matt couldn’t help feeling crushed. Juanita was the only one who’d seemed to really care about him. “Beer, please. Do you have churros today?”

      “Every day. I’ll be right back.”

      He ate his chips and dipped them into the world’s hottest salsa. His ears burned from the heat and sweat rolled down his back. He’d missed this. When Ana brought his beer, she said, “Go easy, mister. That stuff’s hot. I’ll bring you a water, too.”

      He nodded and gulped beer to cool his tongue. It didn’t help.

      At the table next to him, two women loudly discussed dresses and shoes. “Well, I don’t care if you all are going in pirate costumes. I’m wearing the new dress I ordered. It’s not every day a girl gets invited to the Harper mansion.”

      He almost choked on his beer. The women didn’t look familiar and there was no way RW Harper had invited total strangers to his house.

      “Excuse me. Did you say there is a party at the Harpers’?”

      The lady leaned closer. “Yes, Mr. RW Harper himself invited everyone in town.”

      Now he knew something was wrong. His parents had made it a policy not to fraternize with “the help” and since most of the people who worked for the Harpers lived in Pueblicito, the entire town was off-limits. Not that he’d paid any attention to that rule. “Do we know what the occasion is?”

      “No, we do not, guapo. But if you are looking for a date...” She raised her hand.

      The other woman slapped her arm with a menu. “Maria, you’d better put your hand down. Jaime is your date.”

      The woman pouted. “Jaime hates to dance. I can tell by looking at this guy’s muscles. He knows moves that would make a girl’s head spin...” She turned back to him. “You’re a good dancer, right?”

      He laughed. “I was taught that dancing is for girls.”

      “Well, that’s stupid. Who do you think dances with the girls?”

      “Most of the time we dance with each other and the guys just shuffle their feet.” A voice came up behind him. “Sorry, my cousins are a little excited about the party. I don’t know why. I wouldn’t go to that blowhard’s house if you paid me.” She stepped around him and stole a chip from her cousin’s basket. “Not that I’d be invited.”

       Julia.

      An electric current shocked every cell in his body. His chest tightened. It was hard to swallow. His heart...was it still beating?

      Julia’s dark hair captured sunlight and reflected it like stars in a midnight sky. He knew the strands were soft and would slip through his fingers and curl around his hand. If he tugged gently, her head would tip back, revealing the long neck he used to kiss. She would squirm and try not to giggle when he nibbled and whispered against her soft skin because she was so ticklish. Damn, he used to love that.

      She had tiny lines around her deep brown eyes and her sensuous lips but her expressions were exactly what he remembered. Her voice sounded like the one he still heard in his dreams. Although he’d changed in a million ways, she still seemed...perfect.

      “You’re not allowed to go, chica,” Maria said.

      “You shouldn’t have ticked off Mr. Harper until after the big party.” The other woman clicked her tongue. “Can I wear your red dress?”

      Julia shrugged and sat with the women. She was taller than he remembered and those curves. Damn! Little Julia Espinoza had grown into a gorgeous woman.

      “Sure, Linda. Why not? Where am I going to wear it?”

      She turned her attention to Matt, tipped her head and shielded her eyes. “Do I know you?”

      * * *

      Julia couldn’t see his eyes behind his mirrored aviation glasses, but something about him struck a familiar cord deep within her. He was tall, very tall—easily six foot two—and broad-shouldered. His arms were muscular and tanned. His dark hair was cut in a military style and he had a short-cropped beard. Was she always going to be attracted to military men?

      He scooped up a chunk of salsa on his chip and promptly started coughing.

      “Careful, that stuff is hot,” she warned.

      His throat was long and corded as he swallowed, his jaw square. Yummy. His nose was straight with a scar across the bridge like he’d seen a few battles of his own. Dangerous.

      What would it feel like if she ran her palms up his bearded cheeks? Soft, prickly? He had a scar on the corner of his lip. Would he be sensitive there if kissed? He was studying her. His face was hard, set in stone like one of the Greek gods she’d read about in college. Only they didn’t wear aviation glasses.

       Oh, man, am I staring at him?

       Yes, Julia, you are.

      “Um. You look like someone I once knew. My mistake.”

      His square jaw lifted. “Your mistake.”

      “Yes, sorry.” She turned back around and talked to her cousins, but her thoughts were on the handsome stranger. For some reason, she thought of Matt and tears pricked her eyes.

      “Are you listening to me, chica? What shoes should I wear with your red dress?” Linda asked.

      Julia held up her finger and spun around to face the stranger again. He was drinking his beer now. “Are you in one of my classes? Environmental Studies? Law 107?”

      His bottle froze midair and a dark eyebrow rose above his glasses.

      “Does he look like one of those pretty boys from college? No way. He’s a pilot. I saw the fancy plane circling the airport,” Maria said.

      The man raised his beer. Didn’t say a word.

      “You should try my machaca. Especially tasty for breakfast.” Linda shifted closer so the man had a better shot of her cleavage. So obvious. She’d been divorced for six months and had three kids.

      Julia looked at him again. Did he work for Mr. Harper? Was he a business partner? Friend? And was he frowning? Julia couldn’t tell with those darned glasses.

      “Linda’s burned eggs are nothing compared to my menudo. What do you say, guapo? Need a place to stay?” Maria all but purred.

      He put his bottle down. “I’m not staying.” His voice was deep and had an edge to it. He seemed annoyed.

      “We’ve bothered you. Please ignore us,” Julia said softly and motioned for her cousins to turn back around.

      Linda ignored her. “A pilot! That’s so interesting.” The word came out sounding more like sexy. “Staying for the party tonight?”

      “Maybe.” His gaze was on Julia. Why did that make her stomach flutter?

      “Oh, take Julia, then. Someone needs to get her out of