European Secrets (Madrid - Vol. One) by Ana Vela Page A

change of conversation, too tired to find the patience to
explain her marital status to a Spanish cab driver. “Is it usually
so hot this time of day?”
     
    “ Of
course! It’s July! Always hot! But you can relax with some
sangria…” He peered at her in the rear-view mirror, and she worried
he’d lose sight of the traffic veering in out of lanes on both
sides of the cab. Sangria...that sounded right. And to change out
of the travel clothes that did nothing to keep her cool from the
blistering heat. The cab came to an abrupt halt outside a hotel.
Iron-railed balconies fronted tall windows and terracotta tiles
sloped down the roof. A man with a thick moustache and leathered
skin stood by a gated courtyard out front, and wandered over to
greet her as the cab neared the curb.
     
    The smell of floral
shrubbery hit her as she followed the man inside. The lobby was
lined with bright flowers blooming over heavy vases on wire console
tables. Nothing looked newer than twenty-five years old, except the
young man who winked at her as she checked in. Her hotel room was
simple but comfortable, with a brass-framed bed sitting in the
center of a small bedroom and a tiny kitchen behind closet doors.
She felt a sudden rush of excitement at the realization that she’d
arrived. Alone and free in a new city with a date already planned.
It could lead anywhere. As her heart raced and her fingers twitched
with a blend of nerves and excitement, she felt inspiration flow
from her head, and somewhere in her stomach. A fluttering. Her
novel’s character was already forming, and the plot began to shape
itself as each moment passed.
     
    The bed was hard but
welcomed her tired body, and Latin music from street cafes wafted
in through the bedroom window, along with a hint of cigar smoke.
She reached for her cell phone and braced herself for roaming
charges.
     
    “ Kate? I’m here!”
     
    “ You
made it! How was the flight?” Her agent sounded tired but happy to
hear her voice.
     
    “ Fine, thanks. Relieved to be here. So this is still
on?”
     
    “ Yes, he’s expecting you in an hour. He’s smoking hot...your
type. I’ve known him a while. He’s happy to play the game. He’s
seen your photo. Call him Pedro.”
     
    The scenario was so
tempting, so enticing. A stranger. No strings attached. And all in
the name of research. Life experience transcribed to paper, with
words spilling forth as she was still reeling from a stranger’s
touch.
     
    “ That sounds about perfect. If he’s that hot, I can’t wait.”
She twirled a lock of dark brown hair around her finger and
considered what to wear. Her pulse raced with a blend of tiredness
and excitement. She padded over to the bathroom and hesitantly
turned the dial of the electric shower, convinced she would
electrocute herself. The water was tepid, missing the reek of
chlorine she was used to. She was really in Spain. Writing could wait
until tomorrow: the rest of the day was dedicated to some sensual
field research.
     
    An
hour later she stepped out onto the dusty street in a thin floral
dress and flip-flops. Her cab passed endless roundabouts and old,
imposing government buildings that gave way to more cobbled back
streets and small plazas. Pedro’s office sat at the top floor of a
stone apartment block, overlooking a park lined with trees, in the
old quarters of the city. The door stood open, and she walked into
a tiled hallway that immediately sheltered her from the waning
afternoon heat. A rickety wire elevator begrudgingly lifted her to
the top floor. She bit her lip, hoping he spoke a little English,
and she wouldn’t have to embarrass herself with her limited
Spanish.
     
    “ Hello? Hola?” She rapped lightly on the door until he
appeared. She was immediately relieved and tempted by how
attractive he was. He smiled broadly as he let his eyes linger over
her and motioned her inside.
     
    How
does Kate know this guy? She asked
herself, silently. His thick black hair. His