Twice he straightened his tie in the elevator down to the lobby. He checked out of the hotel and turned to leave. If she wasn’t out there, he’d simply go back in and book another room. If she was … he had no way of knowing what lay ahead for him. Eva Menendez had affected him in ways few people ever did. She had a tender way of cutting to the chase, leaving no stone unturned as to what she was attempting to accomplish. Her approach toward Terry was much like her dance, in quick, clear strikes that hit him directly in the heart, making it thump warmth through his entire body and soul.

Before pushing through the glass doors he closed his eyes, wondering if prayer was in order. In many ways he felt like he was moving a rescue into action. Why? And who was it he was rescuing? Could it be … himself? At that moment Terry consciously decided that whatever came of the next nine days, it was likely to change his life forever. He also realized that he had little to no choice. This was something he simply had to do.

Keep it simple, mate, he said to himself. It’s just a beautiful woman; it’s just ten days of holiday. It’s … but his thoughts came to an abrupt halt.

There before him at the curb was a vision that stopped his heart. A virtual Audrey Hepburn from a 1960’s film. Eva leaned back against a pale blue BMW convertible. She wore white linen slacks and a simple burgundy silk tee shirt that seemed to radiate in the morning sun. A gold belt, little flat shoes. Her hair was covered with a white scarf twisted around her neck and floating on the breeze down her back. Her dark sunglasses could not hide the playfulness in her hidden eyes; it reflected in her slightly twisted grin. Every detail of her penetrated Terry’s mind and he knew, without a doubt that that very moment would forever be burned in his memory.

He stepped forward and she leaned in for his sweet kiss on her cheek. “G’morning, Eva,” he whispered and she gracefully turned to open the trunk. Terry heaved his bag inside and reached to pull it closed.

“Ah, no, no, no,” her musical voice teased as her hands pushed his blue suit jacket from his shoulders. She laid the garment in the trunk then removed his perfectly straight tie, tossing it inside before opening his collar and two more buttons. “Holiday, Terry.” Her grin grew as she held up and jingled the car keys. “You drive,” she left him standing there.

His heart thumped. If he could have, he’d have frozen that moment, wrapped her against his chest and kept her there forever. But this was all going to play out however it played out. No plans, no contingencies, no worrying. Just … holiday. He chuckled, shook his head and slammed closed the trunk. Holiday. 

Conversation was impossible, the roar of the wind as the car sped through a glorious countryside blowing away all but the loudest directions Eva gave. She slid from her shoes and propped her pretty feet on the dashboard, her toenails painted red and often pulling Terry’s attention. She was the picture of relaxation and he was slightly jealous. Perhaps that was why they met, that was what she was to teach him? Past noon she finally straightened in her seat and called out for him to take a turn. They wove along a twisted road then stopped at the top of a hill. The restaurant was a magnificent hacienda and the sounds of their footfalls echoed as they entered under the large stone archway. They sat on a balcony overlooking apple and fig orchards and dined.

Terry was unsure what was more beautiful, Eva or the scenery and he laughed at himself for being so light-hearted. The sensation was odd, unique. But the back of his mind was niggling. What came to him was something he knew was deeply imbedded in all his brothers, a need to protect … and his mind wondered. Was she safe? Was her house secure? Could someone take her? Hurt her? Unconsciously he tightened and released his damaged hand repeatedly and beneath the table, his knee bounced.

Eva talked of simple things, distracting him from his concerns and drawing smiles and even laughter as she regaled stories of her youth, of her brother Carlos and of their recent, arduous international tour.

“Paris, Hamburg, London, Greece, Rome, Russia. I am sure there are places I do not even recall,” she smiled and sipped wine.

“Sounds grueling, love,” he said as he again tightened his fist. Eva reached across the table and took his hand in hers, tenderly opening the palm and sliding a fingertip along the ugly scar.

“What has happened to you, Terry?”  

Again the sound of his name on her voice sent shivers along his spine. The injury embarrassed him and he shrugged but couldn’t bear to pull his hand free. “A rescue … recently.” Her eyes drove deep into his and he cleared his throat, feeling as though Eva Menendez was walking around inside his very soul. “The kidnapper had a knife … a big one. If … well, if we didn’t move in that moment … he would have butchered the hostage.” There, he’d said it. It sounded right, it sounded correct. Not foolish or risky, simply necessary.

Her palm lay over his. “And your work? Does this affect your work?”

“Yes.”

“That is why you are on holiday?”

“Ah … no,” he actually shuffled in his chair, uncomfortable. “Took the time because … well … it’s not something I think I ever really did. Take time … for holiday.”

Eva nodded thoughtfully. “Come, I wish to watch the sunset over the Mediterranean. We should leave.”

***

Barcelona. Unlike anyplace he had ever been for only one reason … Terry knew he would never forget the city as he had forgotten so many places during his career. The Rambolas, Guell Parc. She was an exuberant city alive with color and energy and he learned more in two short days about himself than he had ever known. Terry discovered that for the first time he had truly experienced a place outside of his sense of its politics and dangers. He learned that a place was not about its attractions or cultures; it was about the light and the darkness, the soft shadows that drift and vacillate, about the spirit of its magic. He felt familiarities he was never before aware of; similarities to the Vermont Inn, to memories of growing up in Australia. A depth of softness and comfort he’d managed to layer heavily with experiences so painful or harsh they buried the truth of it all.

He and Eva had taken separate rooms at the elegant hotel but they spent every waking moment together. They walked and talked, dined and smiled. They laughed and they grew sad, sharing parts of their lives Terry was amazed to be voicing or hearing. Everything about those forty-eight hours was a surprise and a delight.

Tomorrow they would leave for San Sebastian and Eva’s family home. He rose at dawn and left to jog along the beach then met her for breakfast at the outdoor café. That evening they walked, a strange peaceful quiet between them and he forced his mind not to imagine they’d gone as far as they could, knew everything there was to know about each other. Hand in hand his bare feet splashed water as they strolled the surf, the sunset’s afterglow brilliantly painted on the clouds and bounced a surreal light down on them.

“When do we leave tomorrow?” he asked.

“When we feel like leaving,” her eyes twinkled playfully and he shrugged.

“It’s a long drive, love.”

“Must you always know and plan everything, Terry?”

He stopped, gripped her hand tight and she turned to him. The water foamed at their feet, washed up and away and back again as he looked down into her beautiful dark eyes. “Eva,” he said softly. “I need to know where I’m goin’. I need to know where we’re goin’. Darlin’, my life is in flux and …”

Her hand reached up and cupped his face, tenderly warming him from her touch to his chilled toes. Then she reached her neck up and settled her lips softly on his. The kiss, their first kiss, was gentle but astoundingly promising. He slithered his arms around her and held her close, moving his mouth to take in her top lip, her bottom lip and his tongue sought permission to enter. It was granted and he was breathless. She was taking his very soul, pulling it through his desperate mouth and somehow, replacing it with something more. When she finally released him from her spell, she once again gazed into his eyes.

“Terry, we are going to my bed, for I fear I am falling in love with you.”

“Fear?” his heart stopped. Should she fear that? Was he worthy of this?

She grinned and gripped his hand.

It was not what he expected but somehow everything he’d hoped. Stripped of all his armor Terry was vulnerable but oddly safe in her hands. The sheets felt like satin as did her tender flesh and he moved over her body with admiration and reverence, not the desperation he was most afraid would surface. He tasted every part of her, nursed at tight dark nipples until he could stand it no longer. He needed more, so much more. He too was falling in love with this woman he had hardly touched. Finally his skin in full contact with hers seemed nothing more than was meant to be. It didn’t carry the terrifying excitement of holding off for so long. Instead it offered all the glories of a reward for letting himself discover her mind and having exposed his before coming to that intimate place.

He played and fingered, slithered and pressed. No movement a practiced technique, everything dictated by where her body called to him. When he moved into her, entering slowly and savoring every millimeter of the passage and finally reached his full depth, Terry stilled, lowered himself to kiss her panting mouth and press his chest to soft, inviting breast.

Eva sighed, trembled and Terry whispered. “Still. Let’s feel the stillness, love. I wanna feel it all.”

Her belly quivered and path tightened slightly. She was so close, painfully close and he wanted to see her touch heaven at his command. He rose slightly, careful to remain deep and throbbing within her depths, then he slid a finger to the trigger. Slowly, ever so slowly, watching her face flush, her chest heave with each deep breath she took. And suddenly, surprisingly she tensed around him; a crushing tightness that threatened to bring him to an explosion. She writhed then stiffened, cried out his name and groaned.

Again he dropped over her, wrapping her close, feeling the climax inside and outside of her body. And his hips moved. Thrust. Slow, even, shallow movements that enticed and tossed her higher into the wind. Terry struggled to hold off but nothing could stop where they were going … and to his amazement, they were in fact going somewhere together. Yes, he’d climaxed at the same time a lover had, but Eva was different. The orgasms were different. They were more than physical and images he could hardly identify soared through Terry’s muddled brain. The ejaculation was massive, seemingly to last and pulse forever. He grunted and gasped struggled to breathe then finally felt his muscles melt in the aftermath. And the only thing inside Terry’s thought was that he had done the unthinkable. He had fully, completely fallen in love. Saying that his life was in flux was surely a gross understatement.

***

They left early for San Sebastian and arrived before sunset. The huge villa was surrounded by acres of cultivated land, grapes, orchards, wheat. A sparkling corral held several beautiful Spanish horses but the biggest surprise was when they walked into the elegant courtyard, stepping carefully around nearly twenty chickens and a rather loud, possessive rooster. Terry chuckled and Eva lowered to her knee, several chickens coming close to peck at her outstretched hand in welcome. She laughed then stood.

“Carlos despises them, but I can not bear to lock them in cages.”

“And your parents?”

“They are gone, several years now. Papa hated the chickens too, but mama was like me. As long as I live, these creatures will be free. Of course, it does make it difficult in the morning, finding the eggs, no?” She laughed and Terry hugged her close, taking the chance to kiss the lips he knew he could no longer live without.

“Where’s Carlos?” Terry asked as they entered the grand foyer.

“With his lover in Paris.”

His eyes took in everything, the curling staircase, the high ceilings, the many, many doors. “Eva, tell me you’re not staying here alone.”

“You are with me,” she smiled but he scowled.

“You know I mean when I’m not with you.”

“I have servants. They are third generation servants of the same families, but I pay them far better than my father did. Come, I will introduce you to them. I assure you; they are a sturdy stock and can protect me if you were not here.”

They were in fact a rather large breed of Basque, healthy and strong people who worked the stock and the land and kept the mansion in perfect condition. And to Terry’s great pleasure, the servants also knew when and how to be virtually invisible. Except for meal service, he never again saw one of them.

He and Eva loved and talked, they found ways he’d never known to be closer and closer, but as he neared his time to return to New York and his real life, he felt the distance come in tiny increments that made him want to panic. How could he just walk away? Yes, it was holiday and he had fully enjoyed it, done and learned everything a man should do and learn from true R&R. But Eva … could he just walk away?

Being rational and practical was far from his current state of being, but something had to be decided. It was not until two days before his flight to the States that Terry knew what to do. What he had to do.

Eva had been systematically taking time alone over the past week. At first an hour or so to deal with household requirements, then a few hours to walk or read alone. And finally, most of the afternoon to practice in her studio. Terry had taken to giving her the space she wanted, but watching from a distance. He stood at the studio door, listened to the stereo blast tapes obviously made by Carlos himself, and watched Eva dance. The wall of mirrors reflected her grace as well as his silent form in the distance. The hardwood floor was polished and brilliant, reflecting the afternoon sun floating in through several opened French doors. She spun and moved out onto the stone patio, the click of her heels altering with the new surface and Terry’s heart flowed with her. As she spun to her finish she eyed him and smiled.

He clapped, hoping she’d join him, but instead she flipped the tape in the sound system and struck her starting pose yet again. She was committed, relentless, but somehow he could feel she was not as enrobed in the passion of the Flamenco as she was the first time he saw her. Something … something subtle but very clear, was obviously missing.

He watched her begin … stop … begin again and stop again. He thought to ask her if she’d like him to leave but Terry’s gut moved him a different way. He boldly stepped into the studio and turned off the music. In three long strides he had her in his arms and felt her sob.

“Shh, what is it, love? Don’t be so hard on yourself. Bloody hell, you haven’t danced in a week. It takes time to get back in stride, darlin’.”

“It is not the dance … it is you … you are leaving and I cannot seem to release my heart to free you.”

It was like a fist to the gut. That was it. Decision made. He pushed her at arms length and looked into her face. Her eyes were wet, her lips trembling, her nose, red. He kissed the tip of that nose and sighed. “Free me? Is that what you think I want, Eva?”

She lowered her eyes, said nothing.

“Eva … come with me.”

Slowly her head swung from side to side.

“Come with me, love. Come to my mate’s wedding in Vermont, come to New York, come … into my life. Eva … come with me.”

“I cannot.”

“Sure you can. Sweetheart, you’re not scheduled for another tour for eight months. Come with me.”

She stepped free, blinked and squared her shoulders. “I cannot.”

“Why?”

“You say your life is in flux, Terry … my life too … is in flux. I cannot come with you.” She switched on the music, struck her pose and began her dance.

And Terry watched until he couldn’t watch any longer. He packed his bags and left for the airport. There was no farewell. There was no plan for the future. She had been clear. She could not come with him. Period.