Hotter Than Hell(70)
Though Cat had spent most of her life in the dynamic world of urban Los Angeles, she found Taos no less stimulating. The locals were easygoing and sometimes eccentric, reminding her of people she’d met in Berkeley and San Francisco. The mood was both peaceful and inspiring.
She felt remarkably free as she rambled about the town, stopping as the mood struck her, listening to a Mariachi band in Kit Carson Park and Finnish folk music at an eclectic coffee house. She had a sandwich and iced tea for lunch, browsed shops on the plaza for several hours and then decided to have a drink at a bar off Paseo del Pueblo. She found music there as well; a young, long-haired man perched on a stool in the corner and played melancholy airs on a Native American flute.
Cat claimed an empty bar stool and sat, feeling in great good charity with the world. Though she seldom enjoyed beer, she tried a pale ale from a local microbrewery and found it quite congenial. She’d just started on the second glass when the young flautist stepped down and another musician took his place. She didn’t pay much attention until she heard the first golden strains of the guitar, beginning a melody rich with the distant and exotic sounds of another age.
The voice that accompanied the music sang in liquid Spanish, a voice she recognized even before she turned to see the man who owned it.
Even from his corner, Andrés dominated the room. He sat with one knee drawn up, cradling the guitar like a lover while his fingers danced over the strings. He sang with such intensity and sorrow that every eye in the room was drawn to him, yet he never glanced up from his intricate finger work. The melody curled around Cat like a silken rope, binding her limbs and her loins and her heart.
“Do you understand the song?”
She started, turning toward the bar. The bartender, a man of middle years and a slight Spanish accent, leaned on the scarred wood and nodded toward the singer.
“It is a very old song,” he said. “The words he sings are from an ancient form of Spanish…one only scholars would know today.”
“Really?” Cat said, feeling stupid and confused. “Is he a scholar?”
“He doesn’t look like one, does he? But looks can deceive.” He smiled. “I was a teacher myself, once. Shall I translate?”
“Please.”
The bartender began to recite.
“‘I don’t know how I can reveal to you
the ardent fire
that burns me to the bone
and I can’t see any time or place;
alas, I’m burning in the fire
without any comfort.’”
Cat shivered. She could almost imagine that Andrés was singing directly to her. But surely he hadn’t even noticed her. Surely the fact that they were together in this bar was the sheerest coincidence….
Andrés looked up. His gaze met hers.
“Do you know him?” the bartender asked.
“No.” She heard her own trepidation and deliberately turned her back on Andrés. “Do you?”
“I’ve never seen him here before. Would you like me to ask around?”
“No. No, that’s all right, thanks.” She placed several small bills on the bar and headed for the door.
“Where’re you going so fast, beautiful?”
The man at the table caught Cat’s arm and held on, stopping her in her tracks. He was blond, muscular, and handsome; plenty of women would have been flattered by his attention. Cat wasn’t.
“Excuse me,” she said, shaking him off.
“Hey. No need to be so unfriendly.” He gave her a dazzling grin and patted the chair beside him. “Have a seat. I’ll get you whatever you want.”
“Sorry. I’ve got…things to do.”
“It can’t be all that urgent. Come on.” He grabbed the hem of her jacket and tugged. She lost her balance and banged her hip on the table. The blond looped his arm around her waist and pulled her against him. Cat could smell the alcohol on his breath.
“I’d advise you to let me go,” she said.
“Advise?” He laughed. “You a lawyer or something?”
“As a matter of fact, I am.”
He rolled his eyes. “Oooh. I’m seared.” He pushed her into the chair. “You need some loosening up, princess. And I’m just the man to do it.”
“You will unhand the lady, cabrón, or you will regret it.”
The jerk looked up into Andrés’s face with blank incomprehension. “What did you call me?”
“Do you require a translation, pajero?” Andrés glanced at Cat. “Are you hurt, señorita?”