Under the Spanish Stars Read Online Free Page A

steady rhythm gaining momentum as her body dipped and twirled. The fluidity and strength in her movements commanded full attention from everyone in the room.
    The singer’s words chased the swirling notes through the cavern, weaving between audience members’ bodies frozen in the moment. The dancer grabbed the hem of her skirt, revealing slim, athletic legs and black, patent leather shoes. She hit the boards hard with her heels, shot her arms towards the heavens and let out a guttural cry that hit Charlotte straight in the chest. This primal energy surging through the room ignited an unfamiliar feeling in Charlotte. What was it? Electricity? Sensuality? Ghosts of her family?
    The power of the dancer radiated within the small cave then she abruptly moved to the side of the stage, her chest rising and falling heavily. The guitarist ran his fingers up, down and across the strings with ease. He finished the solo and the dancer took centre stage again, her passion and intensity hitting Charlotte once more. When the performance finished, the audience leapt to its feet and shouted their appreciation. The group played a few more songs and then Charlotte realised nothing was left in the wine carafe.
    Oops.
    With the set complete, the group disbanded. Picking at the tapas to line her stomach, Charlotte wished she’d had one, perhaps two, glasses fewer than she’d guzzled but it was too late. Light-headedness had descended.
    The guitarist had sauntered over then slid onto the chair as thoughthey’d been friends for years. This time, she welcomed his presence. ‘Did you enjoy the performance?’
    â€˜It was … uh … it was …’ For someone with a dual degree in economics and business management she nevertheless abjectly failed to string a sentence together in this instance.
    He gave a gentle laugh, smile lines crinkling around his dark eyes. ‘Do you always have trouble with your native language?’
    â€˜I …’ God, what was wrong with her? ‘That whole performance gave me goosebumps. I’ve never experienced anything like it. Was that duende ?’
    â€˜You know of this?’
    She nodded and his smile broadened.
    â€˜Señorita, if you have to ask if it was duende, then I am afraid it was not. You will know it when it happens, I promise.’ He punctuated this with an authoritative nod. Even after the magic he’d worked on stage not one bead of sweat appeared on his lovely olive skin.
    The waiter finally reappeared with another carafe of wine, two glasses and more tapas. He set it down on the table and topped up Charlotte’s glass. Her head spun at the thought of drinking any more but to be sociable, she took a small sip.
    The waiter winked at her and slapped the guitarist on the back. ‘Tonight you perform very well, Mateo.’

CHAPTER
2
    Wine flew up Charlotte’s nostrils, burning their insides, as she gasped then slammed her glass down. ‘ You are Mateo Vives?’
    â€˜ Sí . You are surprised?’ He raised his eyebrows and poured himself a wine.
    â€˜Why didn’t you tell me before?’
    He shrugged and popped an olive in his mouth.
    â€˜I feel like an idiot,’ she mumbled, annoyed. The professor had warned her about the gitanos being difficult, but she hadn’t expected it would also pertain to this Mateo Vives clown.
    â€˜Do not be so hard on yourself. The waiter, Pedro, said a woman was looking for me. Many women come to this bar and ask for me, but they have intentions I am not interested in. I wanted to know if you are the same before I revealed my identity.’
    Who did he think he was, James Bond? Charlotte crossed her arms, not sure if he was spinning a story, messing with her head, or both. Or, quite simply, he could be telling the truth.
    â€˜I’m not a groupie or a tourist looking for a Spanish lover, if that’s what you’re angling at.’
    Mateo raised his palms in the air.