Before I Do Amazon (21 page)

"Sorry, to keep you waiting," she said. "I slept through the alarm. I don't usually sleep this late."

"Jet lag and time zone changes," he said. "It's not a problem."

"Good. How are you, Martin?"

"Great. Eager to get to the show tonight," Martin said. "I can't wait to see you two—dance together."

Nick saw the wicked light in Martin's eyes and gave him a silent glare that told him to behave. Not that that would have much effect on Martin, who apparently felt enough job security to say whatever was on his mind.

"You're going to be impressed," Isabella told Martin as they walked out of the hotel and got into the waiting SUV. "Nick is going to knock your socks off with his smooth moves."

"That is something I can't wait to see," Martin said, giving Nick another sly look before taking the seat in the back of the vehicle. He immediately put on his headphones. "You two feel free to talk. I'm going to listen to Joel's webinar on international sales strategies."

There would have been a time when he might have listened to that, too, or spent the ninety-minute drive to Juan Carlos's house talking on the phone or reviewing the plans for the project. But now he was more interested in talking to Isabella.

He sat down on the bench seat next to Isabella and fastened his seat belt. "Did you get any sleep last night?"

"It took me awhile to calm my brain down," she admitted. "I had a lot to think about, but I'm happy the night ended on a better note than it started."

"Your family was entertaining. Do you think you'll keep in touch?"

"Definitely. Liliana said she's planning a trip to California next summer, so I will see her then."

"How do you think your mother will feel about you reconnecting with your father's side of the family?"

"I'm not sure. But I think—I hope—she'll be open to it. Carlotta acknowledged that she hadn't treated my mother well and had blamed her for a lot of my father's problems. If she is willing to tell my mother that, it will definitely help pave the path to a truce." Isabella blew out a breath. "I can't thank you enough for going with me, Nick. I wouldn't have made it into those disgusting bars if you hadn't been with me. And I wouldn't have seen my father."

He wasn't sure it was such a great thing for her to have found her father in the condition the man was in, but if she was happy, he was happy. "No problem."

She looked out the window as they got onto the highway. "I'm excited to get out of the city. It will be fun to see more of the country."

"Did you take many trips out of the city when you were young?"

"I'm quite sure we went to some beaches, but I don't remember where they were."

"Well, you're about to be driven through some of the most beautiful land in the world."

"You really do love this country, don't you?" she asked, giving him a thoughtful smile. "You're not faking it to get the deal. You love Argentina."

"I don't know about love, but I do like it here. And I believe the resort will do extremely well, both for me and for the local economy."

"Are you nervous about dancing tonight?"

Actually, he wasn't as stressed about that as he'd thought he would be. A lot had happened in the past week that had shifted his focus—in a good way. He hadn't thought he was living in a narrow world until that world had been blown wide open. Who would have thought a tango teacher from Argentina could have done that?

"Why are you smiling?" Isabella asked curiously.

He shrugged. "It's just a good day."

She nodded, meeting his gaze. "I think so, too."

He could have gone on looking at her forever, but eventually she turned toward the window. "I can't wait to see your beach, Nick."

"It looks like the picture I showed you. I wasn't sure it would, because rarely does anything look the same after so many years have passed, but it did. The hotel, however, didn't fare so well."

She gave him a quick look. "The hotel?"

"The small hotel where my mother wanted to stay. It had only eight rooms, but four of them had beautiful ocean views. And one of them was only a step away from the sand. The grandparents of the man I'm doing business with now—Juan Carlos—owned the hotel for forty years, but they've both passed away, and while Juan has plenty of money and will soon have a lot more, he's decided to let the hotel be torn down to make way for my resort. He told me that his grandmother had always wanted a bigger place, so rather than preserve the old in her memory, he would allow something grander to be built."

"It's funny how we're all influenced by our families."

He hadn't really thought of it that way until now. "You're right. But just in case you're thinking I always have a sentimental reason behind my business decisions, I would have to tell you that this is the first and only time that I've bought anything because of a personal motivation."

She smiled. "I get it. You don't want to come off weak and sappy. And I believe you rarely make decisions based on sentiment, but I'm glad that you can, because a life without emotion is really not much of a life."

He thought about that for a long while, when he wasn't thinking about how silky Isabella's hair was, how it brushed against his shoulder, how he'd love to run his hands through it and see it spread across his pillow.

When those thoughts made him shift uncomfortably in his seat, he tried to focus on the countryside, but even the dark-haired, dark-eyed children playing on the side of the road made him think of Isabella, of what her babies would look like. Would her girls have her sparkling eyes, her sense of adventure? Or would they take after him?

Damn! Another bad daydream. He'd never thought about having kids. His parents' marriage had been dismal. He'd barely spent any time with either of his parents even though he had felt the closest to his mother, but she'd always been with his dad. What was the point of bringing a child into the world if you didn't want to spend the time with them?

And he had little time in his life for anything but business.

At least, he hadn't had that time in the past.

Maybe things would be different in the future.

As Isabella had said, a life without emotion wasn't really much of a life. He knew that was true, because he'd lived that life. And he wanted more. He'd always wanted more. That was nothing new. But now that
more
included a woman…

* * *

Argentina was a beautiful country, Isabella thought, as they passed by picturesque farms and vineyards as well as small, charming towns with lots of history. Someday she would come back and take a longer trip, explore everything the country had to offer from the dramatic glaciers to the vibrant jungle and the sprawling pampas. She owed it to herself to learn more about where she came from, not just who her father was. For too long she'd turned her back on that side of herself, and in the future that would change.

The vibration of her cell phone drew her attention. She took it out and saw her aunt's number. "It's Carlotta," she murmured.

"Take it," Nick said with a nod.

"Hola," she said.

"He came home," Carlotta said, her voice filled with emotion. "Your father came to my house this morning. He looked me in the eye, and I saw my brother for the first time in a very long time."

"Really?" she asked, shocked at the news.

"He said that last night he was visited by an angel. Her name was Isabella. She asked him to try to get better. He said he wanted to do it for her. We just took him to the clinic. He'll stay there for many weeks. Hopefully, he'll get better."

Her heart turned over in her chest as she was overwhelmed with happiness. "I'm so glad. I didn't think he recognized me or understood who I was."

"Somewhere in his head, he knew. You did this, Isabella. You brought him back."

"Do you think he'll stay at the clinic?"

"I pray that he will. He's taken the first step. Hopefully, he will continue down this path."

"Should I try to contact him again?"

"A letter would probably be appreciated, maybe a photo, give him something to look at, to care about. I'll text you the address of the clinic."

"Thank you."

"You have only yourself to thank. I'm ashamed to say I had given up."

"You don't have to be ashamed to say that. I don't know that I could have dealt with his condition for as long as you have without losing hope or the will to fight."

"We must stay in touch, Isabella, and please tell your mother how sorry I am."

"I will," she promised. She slipped the phone back into her bag and looked at Nick. "My father contacted Carlotta, and she got him to go to a clinic. He said he was visited by an angel last night."

Nick gave her a compassionate smile. "Well, he was."

"I hope he stays there and gets better. I know it's not a sure thing."

"It's a start. You got through to him, Isabella."

"I really didn't think I had, but maybe so. Or else he just thinks he had a dream. But it doesn't matter. He's in a place where he can get help. And when I return home, I'll write to him."

He put his hand on her thigh and gave it a squeeze. "You did well. You should be proud of yourself."

"Thanks." She let out a breath. "I feel so much better."

"Good." He tipped his head toward the window. "We're almost there."

She turned back to the scenery, amazed by the turquoise blue sea that sparkled under a clear blue sky and a very bright sun. "Is this your beach?"

"It's part of it," he said.

"It's beautiful, Nick."

"That three-story building is the hotel my mother wanted to visit."

"It has a sad kind of charm, but beautiful beach views. You're really going to tear it down?"

"Yes, but we'll take items from the hotel—photos, a fireplace, a window, doorknobs—and use those pieces in the resort to bring authenticity."

"It sounds like you've thought of everything." She wasn't surprised by that. Nick was nothing if not very, very thorough.

"I've been thinking about it for a long time."

As they passed by the hotel, they turned away from the beach and took a long, winding one-lane road for another few miles. The car finally stopped in front of a large three-story home with a wide veranda that wrapped around the building.

The garden in front of the house was blooming with color, and behind the home she could see a barn and some horses grazing in the more distant meadow.

An older man and a woman came out to the porch as they got out of the car. The man was short in stature with a wiry frame and an energetic stride. He had dark hair and eyes and wore a short-sleeved embroidered black shirt with gray pants. His wife was also dark, her long hair pulled back in a single braid that fell down to her waist. Almost the same height as her husband, she wore a simple peasant blouse with a long skirt. They both appeared to be in their sixties or early seventies.

"Juan and his wife, Dolores," Nick said as he helped her out of the car.

After Nick and Martin exchanged greetings with Juan and Dolores, it was her turn to accept a warm, welcoming hug from both of them.

"We are looking forward to your dance tonight," Dolores said with a smile. "We have invited our friends and family to the party."

"We're looking forward to it, too," Isabella replied, thinking it would be easier for her to say that and mean it than for Nick to do so.

"Dolores is making lunch for you. I hope you are hungry," Juan said. "After lunch, perhaps you would care for a siesta or you will have time to work, Nicholas. I know how much you like to work."

"I usually do, but I think I'd like to take a walk down to the beach before lunch—if there's time."

"Of course. There is always time. I will go with you. Would you like to join us?" Juan asked Isabella.

As much as she'd like to see the beach, she thought that Nick needed this time alone with Juan. "I'll help Dolores with lunch. You two go ahead."

"Martin?" Juan asked.

"I have to make a few more calls, so I'm going to disappear for a while as well," Martin replied.

"I'll show you your rooms," Dolores suggested. "Lunch will be ready in thirty minutes, Juan. Don't stay too long at the beach."

"We won't," Juan promised.

Isabella gave Nick an encouraging smile and then followed Dolores into the house.

* * *

Nick walked alongside of Juan as they took the path to the beach. They didn't speak until they reached the sand, until he was looking out at the blue-green water that had been in his dreams for so many years.

"Is it as beautiful as you remember?" Juan asked.

"My memory didn't do it justice." He looked down at Juan. "I'm glad we have a chance to speak before the party tonight."

Juan gave him a wary smile. "You are angry about my request, yes?"

"I was angry," he admitted. "We made you an extremely good offer. I think you know that."

"The land means more to me than money. I want the resort to blend with my culture and for the owner to respect the people who have lived here for hundreds of years."

"I understand that a little better now. Actually, I want to thank you, Juan. You forced me to do something I didn't want to do, and it has changed my life."

"The tango has changed your life?" Juan asked in surprise.

"Well, not exactly the tango."

Juan nodded, understanding now running through his gaze. "Ah, it is the beautiful Isabella then."

"Yes. I hired her to teach me how to dance, but she did a lot more than that. She encouraged me to look up from my work, to reconnect with my family, to stop and enjoy the small moments of life."

"That is quite a lot."

"Yes, it is." He paused. "Isabella was born in Buenos Aires. She hadn't been back here in eighteen years—until yesterday. We walked all around the city. Seeing it through her eyes made me realize how much I had missed on my last visit here. She also introduced me to some of her family members, and I enjoyed getting to know them. You were right, Juan. When I was here before, I didn't know the people. I had studied the facts, but the emotions were not important to me until someone reminded me that life without feeling is really not any kind of life." He paused. "Isabella told me that the tango is a dance of opposing desires, a battle of wills, need versus desire, love versus hate, passion versus love. The tango is a metaphor for life."