career, Cole stood and moved aside so she could take his place. Isabella Allante was more beautiful now than the last time he’d seen her—sound asleep in his bed.
For the sake of the boy, Cole used every ounce of professionalism he had to reassure the anxious mother. “Adrian is fine. Just a scrape.”
“Cole,” Bella said in a monotone, as if she’d turned off a switch to her emotions. Her face registered nothing, a mask of calm.
She had always been good at keeping her emotions in check, a trait that would have made her a good doctor if she had gone to medical school as they had planned.
He did the math. Had marriage and pregnancy, not necessarily in that order, caused her to drop out? Had it been her choice or her husband’s?
That husband should have been him.
Betrayal and anger made him turn away from her, even after all these years. No other woman had ever affected him this way. He’d hardened his heart to make sure of it.
Bella bent down to inspect Adrian’s knee.
“Doesn’t look too bad, huh?” she asked her son, the compassion switched on again.
Cole watched Adrian’s face as his eyes shifted up and to the left, then back to his mother’s mouth. Adrian’s way of agreeing, Cole guessed, when Bella gave him a gentle smile.
Feature by feature, the boy didn’t look much like his mother. His eyes were dark, almost black, while hers were a crystal shade of violet. His hair was dark, too. Thick and wavy compared to hers, straight and honey-blonde. At fourteen, he was at least three inches taller than his petite mother. Maybe it was his gestures or the way he held himself that looked so familiar.
Cole glanced at Bella’s bare ring finger. Nobody had told him that her marriage had broken up—if, indeed, that was what her ring-free state meant. But, then, he’d made it clear to everyone back in New Orleans that he didn’t want to hear the name Isabella Allante ever again.
“Worth the ribbon?” She held up a medal dangling on a red ribbon.
Again, Adrian spoke with his eyes, delight showing through their dark depths.
“Want to wear it?” She lifted the ribbon to place it around Adrian’s neck.
His left hand started to pat the air while his shoulders tensed and his eyes took on a wild and startled cast.
Bella rocked back on her heels, giving her son space. “Okay, honey. Why don’t I hold it for you?”
Adrian calmed and smiled, a sweet, pure smile like his mother’s could be. “Momma.”
Bella sucked in her breath. “Yes, honey. Momma. Thank you for that.”
The loudspeaker crackled and the commentator announced refreshments for all the athletes and their guests. Adrian’s eyes lit up. He pushed himself off his chair, not even wincing as he put weight on his injured leg.
Without looking left or right, he started for the snack bar. Abruptly, he stopped, pinned Cole with those deep, dark eyes and gestured, more a command than an invitation. Adrian might not use a plethora of words but his body language spoke volumes.
Cole could feel the tension radiate from Bella.
He had no problem reading her body language either. While Adrian clearly wanted Cole to accompany him, Isabella wanted exactly the opposite.
“Adrian, honey, Dr. Lassiter is busy. I don’t think he can take a break with us,” she said, making herself clear.
The odds were stacked against her. First off, Cole was thirsty. Secondly, Adrian wanted his company—and Cole sensed a specialness in that. And, thirdly, Bella had just issued a challenge Cole wouldn’t walk away from.
“Au contraire, Mrs. Beautemps. I’m ready for a nice cold drink.”
Cole had once lived or died by Bella’s slightest desire, but now he wanted nothing more than to prove that what she did or didn’t want had no influence on his decisions.
“It’s Allante,” she corrected.
“Divorce?” Not that it should matter. He wondered purely out of curiosity. He’d always thought she and David Beautemps would stay together forever. But, then, he’d thought that about himself and Bella, too, until she’d dumped him.
“My decision,” she clarified, as if that would mean anything to him.
He shrugged. “Not my concern.”
“Then you shouldn’t have asked.”
Sorry. The flippant apology stuck in his throat.
“You’re right,” he forced out, swallowing down the bitter taste of concession.
He and Bella were ancient history—bad ancient history at that—and long since archived under “foolish youth.” Any feelings between them should have been put to bed a long time ago.
Put to bed. Not the best metaphor to choose, not when he still remembered how that honey-gold hair spread across his pillow and down her trim, bare back all those years ago.
He took in her simple T-shirt dress, flattering but not new, and her wedge-heeled sandals that showed wear around the soles. Her simple clothes were very different from the fashions she’d once worn.
Fifteen years ago, her clothes had come straight off a Paris or New York runway. From the looks of things, she would have benefitted from a better lawyer, settlement-wise.
She brushed her hand down her dress then lifted her chin. “What are you doing here?”
“Business.” The multimillion-dollar merger was the only thing that could have brought him back to his old hometown. Bella’s father had been one of the founding partners of the sports clinic a few decades previously but Cole’s lawyers had assured him that Dr. Allante had been out of the partnership for over a dozen years.
“You’re not doing business at a track-and-field meet, are you?” Her question dripped of disbelief with a tinge of suspicion.
Cole knew she had deliberately twisted his answer.
He couldn’t have told her anything even if he’d wanted to. He’d done enough of these mergers to know how tenuous early negotiations could be. Confidentiality and secrecy played a big role in making these kinds of deals run smoothly.
But, then, he had no desire to tell her anything about himself or his life. They had nothing in common anymore but a painful past.
“As you can tell, I’m a volunteer for the special games’ medical staff. I’m a last-minute substitute.” Is that what he’d been to Bella? A substitute while David was away at college?
None of this mattered anymore, he reminded himself as he swallowed down a bitterness he’d thought was long gone.
At eighteen, he’d been sure he and Bella had a soul-deep connection, more than just teenage infatuation, but he’d been wrong.
Apparently, he’d been wrong about more than one thing. Cole had expected David Beautemps to provide Bella with the high-society lifestyle she’d always had. But people changed. He certainly had.
“What’s up with David?” he asked, to prove—to himself as much as to her—that he didn’t care.
Two years older than him, and almost three years older than Bella, David had been kind, gentle and generous, as well as wealthy. When Bella had chosen David over him, Cole had understood, on a rational level.
Still, he felt raw. He thought he’d extinguished that internal firestorm long ago, but seeing Bella seemed to have stirred up embers from the ashes.
“Daddy,” Adrian said.
Next to him, Bella sucked in her breath.
Cole looked around for the man Bella had married, but didn’t see anyone approaching