Terry woke a five-fifty the next morning and sat at his small table, he opened his laptop with full intentions of reviewing the new business model and doing a little tweaking. But no sooner had it booted up, he found himself typing Eva Menendez into the Google field. There she was.

There was a listing of various articles and reviews of her performances, all raving and recommending that ‘at all costs, get to see this woman dance! The flamenco has never looked so good’. At the bottom of the last article was a link to her website and Terry ran a hand down his chest before clicking. A full screen photo of her beautiful face, turned elegantly on a lithe neck and gazing down over a shoulder, adorned the first screen. Her hair was dressed tight at the base of her neck in a knot, cascading down her back and shining in the stage lights. Terry sighed but before his lungs could empty, his cell rang.

“Yeah?”

“Terry, the kid’s delivered to his dad and I’m about to board a flight to New York.”

“Good job, Grant. How are things at the office?”

“Dead. Quiet as a mouse.”

“Listen,” Terry’s eyes were glued to the woman’s face as he talked. “Why don’t you take Debbie and enjoy a few days off.”

Grant cleared his throat. “You growing a heart, Thorne?”

“Dunno. Lemme check.”

“No, no. Let’s just pretend you did and I’ll take the time. This’ll be great. Deb’s been griping about buying new clothes for the wedding. Maybe we’ll do that then just … I don’t know … pop up to the Catskills for a few days.”

“Just keep in close contact with the office, mate.”

“Hey, I still can’t reach Dino.”

“He’s … busy I guess.”

“And you? You meet a pretty senorita?”

“Just go to New York and take your time off before I change my mind. Ya did good, Grant. I know I been hard on you but … with how things have gone … well, you’re gonna be an asset. Go have yourself a little holiday and rest up for what’s ahead.”

“Alright. Who are you and what have you done with Terry Thorne?” Grant teased.

“You rather I rescind the offer? You could just get your sorry arse back to the office.”

“Outta here! Have fun, Thorne. See you when you get back.”

Terry hung up with a huffing chuckle and focused on the website. There was a brief background on the dancer. The guitarist was her younger brother, Carlos Menendez and as award winning as Eva. There was a listing of Ms. Menendez’ performances and it was obvious she was at the end of a long, grueling tour. Her final performance for months would be that very night in the same restaurant. If there was any question as to what he’d be doing that evening, it was decided that moment. But he had a good thirteen hours before he could see her dance again, so best make good use of the time.

He went down to the gym and worked out then did several laps in the pool before heading back to the room. As he pulled his key card for entry, again his cell rang.

“Yeah,” he grunted, entering and dropping his gym bag where he stood.

“Mornin’ Tio,” Dino’s voice drifted into his ear and Terry again sat at the laptop, again typed her name in Google, followed the link then simply leaned back to look at her lovely face.

“Where are you?”

“Out on her balcony.”

“She got a name?”

Dino chuckled. “Teena … with two ‘e’s.”

“Christ,” Terry snorted, his finger idly slid along Eva Menendez’ cheek on the screen.

“Youth does have its benefits. She may not be able to name the Beetles but she has stamina.”

“I bet.”

“Listen, I promised I’d do some stupid tourist bus thing with her this afternoon, but I can get away a few hours to have dinner with you.”

“Don’t bother, mate. Got plans.”

“Yeah? She over twenty-one?”

“I’ll see ya tomorrow … maybe.”

“She is over twenty-one! She there right now?”

“Get off my bloody phone, Dino. Go tour with Teena … with two ‘e’s.”

***

Terry’s day moved quickly, vacillating between devouring everything on Eva’s website and reviewing the new business structure. At exactly seven PM, he was standing at the door of the restaurant again. The lovely seating hostess grinned and tilted her head. This time she spoke in thickly accented and stalling English.

“Ah … so you … return to us, senior Thorne?”

His brow rose and she leaned closer.

“We see few … touristas … here. Your charge card … I remember your name,” her smile beamed pride at having communicated clearly as well as at her savvy to discover and recall his name. “You wish … dinner?”

“Si,” he said and followed her inside. He didn’t expect to be given a seat of honor as he had yesterday, but he was more than pleased when she led him to a small table at the edge of a balcony directly across from where Ms. Menendez would perform. It offered a completely unobstructed view, although some forty feet from his table the night before. He ordered a glass of Marques de Rascal and sipped as he fingered the menu, wondering if he should order before or between the two shows.

That decision was made for him as no waiter neared and the house lights lowered. The anticipation of the crowd told him that the gathered Madrid locals were clearly aware that this would be her last two performances in Spain for nearly a year. They silenced and waited. Carlos took his place but this time did not lift his guitar to warm the already heated crowd. He sat in the silence then quietly, the sound of her heels was heard and Eva Menendez look the stage, performing an entire dance without music; her feet, her movements, the fire in her very eyes all the melody needed and the crowd went wild.

Terry’s heart beat loud in his ears as he watched, for more than once during her twenty minutes on the stage, her eyes caught and held his. Of course he was imagining it, but then again, a bloke could dream, right? As she left the stage and the room calmed, he opened the menu.

“Senior Thorne?”

He looked up into the kind face of the seating hostess. Bloody hell; was he about to lose his excellent seat? Had some city dignitary arrived and requested the table? Was he about to be asked to move, or worse yet, leave? His brow rose and he did his best to keep the distaste from his expression. “Yes, love?”

“Senior Thorne … Ms. Menendez has requested that you dine with her in her dressing room.”

Nope, he wasn’t expecting that. “Are you sure?” he looked around him, there had to be someone important she was meaning to invite.

The pretty woman lifted his wine glass and smiled. “I am sure. Please to follow me, Senior.” They walked through the dining room and into the bustling kitchen then up a flight of stairs. There, she handed him his glass and tapped on the door. It was opened and Terry never noticed the woman leave. All his focus was on the lovely creature close enough to touch.

Eva swept her hand for him to enter as several waiters set up a table loaded with luscious smelling tapas and two place settings, flowers and a bottle of Valdespano sherry. Terry entered then set his wine aside, reaching out his right hand as she took it tenderly into both of hers. He could feel the warmth of her at the top of his hand; the palm was dead, numb, but somehow tingling. She smiled and her eyes twinkled.

Terry’s mind scrambled. Perhaps she didn’t speak English? Was his Spanish up to par? He was well versed in several dialects but always insecure when faced with very personal interactions like this one. Needless to say, when the waiters left and she waved him to a seat, all his concerns melted away.

“Thank you for joining me, Mr. Thorne.” The words rolled aloft a thick Spanish accent, making each one seem new, as though it held more meaning that it really did.

“My pleasure, Ms. Menendez. I .. I wanna say … although I’m sure you hear this a million times a day … but you are truly an extraordinary dancer.”

She opened a linen napkin and settled it on the ruffled red satin at her lap. “Only a fool would say that hearing such a thing more than a million times is not always welcome, si?”

She passed him a small plate and he took a bit of the pickled baby eels, tasting the briny, sea flavor of it and grinning in response. The restaurant was surely the best Spanish cuisine he’d ever had. He cleared his throat and leaned back to watch her eat. “Have you been dancing your entire life, Ms. Menendez?”

She set her fork down and laughed, a playful action that sparked in her eyes as she looked directly into his. “You must call me Eva. I fear I am not … so … ah … formal.”

“Then you must call me Terry.” He waited and she finally relaxed in her chair, crossing her leg and he got a glimpse of an elegant ankle, the leather strapped shoes and the heels that make so much music as she performed.

“I would say yes … yes Terry, I believe I have danced all of my life.”

His breath caught at the sound of his name coming from her beautiful, full lips. He blinked and attempted to listen, really listen to every word she spoke.

“I was five when I began to learn from my grandfather. When I was twelve, he placed me into my grandmother’s hands and she taught me the finer ways of movement, the … female … ways of movement.” She sipped wine and sighed. “When I was sixteen, I went to Paris … I studied ballet for eight years … then,” her eyes rose and laughed along with her bubbling voice. “Then, my papa decided that I would begin to perform.”

“He could see your amazing talent,” Terry stated.

“He could see my ability to save our family. Papa … liked to gamble in Monaco … he nearly lost our villa. But, Carlos and I were able to save it all.” She didn’t tell the story as though it was a sad, disappointing memory; didn’t seem to feel used or abused over it all. To Terry’s amazement, she told it as if she enjoyed it all. “But I am not … so … interesting, Terry. Tell me of you, of your work. You have a business? A … ah … kidnap and ransom insurance business, no?”

He blinked surprise and she laughed softly.

“I … look at your website. Is it dangerous work? Kidnap and ransom insurance?”

“Well, not the selling part, at least not normally. You do have kidnap and ransom insurance, I assume.”

“I do,” she pushed back a thick, shiny wave of dark hair.

“Good. Good.”

“Are you in Madrid for business?”

“Ah … no. Holiday.”

Her pretty brow curled. “No. No. You are not a man on holiday. You, Terry Thorne … are a man … trying ... to be on holiday.”

He squirmed in his seat, uncomfortable at yet another shocking observation. Clearly he wasn’t as good at hiding things as he thought.

“I know what you need.”

He watched the last of his red wine as he swirled it in his glass.

“Barcelona,” her voice held a playful lilt.

“Barcelona?” He looked up, struggled to keep breathing. Eva Menendez was far more than beautiful, she was shockingly, strikingly, surprisingly beautiful, sending shivers through him every time he took her in.

“Si, Barcelona. I leave tomorrow morning for a few days in Barcelona. Come with me, Terry.”

A bloke can dream, but these kinda dreams just didn’t come true for Terry. The mere idea of it all made him vibrate. Granted, Eva was fully, instinctively European but she didn’t strike him as overtly promiscuous. Needless to say, Terry had to keep his imagination in check. After all, one can never have too many friends and he found her easy to be with, pleasant and entertaining. What mattered if it never went further? He sighed, gulped the last of his wine. “Barcelona,” he rolled it on his tongue with the heady flavor of the Marques de Rascal.

“Barcelona,” she repeated deliciously. “Let me take you there, let me show you how to relax … how to truly enjoy a holiday. Come with me, Terry.”

He swallowed hard. Relaxing wasn’t something he imagined would be easy around this woman but he was no fool. He grinned. “Tomorrow morning?”

She nodded.

“Where are you staying? Where shall I pick you up?”

Her laugh was musical, disarming … and obviously at his expense, he just couldn’t figure out how. Eva took no time explaining.

“I am staying at the very hotel where you are staying, Terry. I have seen you … several times … in the lobby … in the restaurant … coming from the gym.”

How the hell could he have missed her? Her laughter tingled along his spine and he had to give in and chuckle right along.

She actually reached across the table and settled her hand over his. “I have my car. I will meet you in front of the hotel at ten o’clock. We will drive to Barcelona … and then … maybe we go to San Sebastian. I will show you my home.”

Warmth flowed through him, a kind of comfort that defied everything in his nature and he felt himself respond to her glow. “San Sebastian. You’re Basque?”

“Si,” she answered and poured Sherry for them both. She raised her glass. “To holiday,” she sighed and he clinked his glass to hers, wishing the conversation could continue forever.

A tap at the door ended it all. She was being called for her next and final performance for many months. Terry felt his heart deflate. He stood, kissed her cheek lightly and Eva smiled.

“I will see you tomorrow at ten. Do not be late, Senior Thorne.”

Terry could not return to his table, it had already been filled, but he couldn’t bear to leave either. He stood below the performance balcony and watched Eva spin and emote the passions of flamenco. When it was done, so was he, weak and almost bloody giddy with it all. He returned to the hotel, packed and slept better than he could remember.

Nine forty-five. Showered. Dressed and ready to leave, he lifted his cell and dialed Dino’s cell, unsure if he’d get an answer, but at least he could leave a message. He was surprised to hear the man’s voice.

“What?”

Terry chuckled. “Just wanted ya to know, I’m leavin’ for Barcelona this morning.”

The adjoining door opened and Dino slipped in, bare chested and wearing a pair of sweats … backwards. He pulled the door closed quickly. Obviously Teena with two ‘e’s was naked in the bed. “What do you mean we’re going to Barcelona?” Dino grunted and scratched his balls.

“Not we, mate. Me. Leavin’ in,” Terry glanced at his watch, “right now. See ya in the States.”

Dino stood, grinning as Terry gathered his bag and headed out the door. Oh, uh … hey Terry?”

“Yeah?”