How to Marry a Matador (Exclusive Sneak Preview) (18 page)

Gwen felt a warmth surge through her,
recalling their close encounter of the nearly carnal kind. There
was more to Dan Holbrook than met the eye. Hadn’t he just proved
that with his turn of kindness at the end? But the truth of the
matter was that whatever sort of man he was, or wasn’t, was beside
the point. Gwen had come to Santa Fe on a mission, and that mission
involved dollar signs. She didn’t just want the money; she needed
it. Twenty thousand in cash, and she wasn’t leaving New Mexico
without it.

Dan finished business quickly with the couple
from Los Angeles after offering sincere apologies for making them
wait. They’d prearranged to purchase the desert photo series, and
everything, including price negotiations, thank goodness, had been
settled with Nancy in advance. It was a simple matter of the pair
presenting a check and Dan providing the receipt. In the morning,
he’d arrange for shipping, and Nancy’s gallery assistant would be
in to help with the details. That would be the simple part of Dan’s
day. Lunchtime could prove more problematic.

Dan chided himself for suggesting Gwen meet
him at La Cantina rather than here. Outwardly, he told himself that
he was being charitable. Gwen had seemed so uptight at the gallery,
perhaps a more comfortable venue would be less intimidating. He’d
read her résumé and understood that if she sold through Holbrook
and Holstein, it would be her first real sale, her official launch
in the art world. But deep in the veiled recesses of his soul, Dan
suspected a slight ulterior motive. He hadn’t enjoyed the company
of an attractive woman in ages, and this was a safe way to do it.
Lunch in the middle of the day, a straightforward business deal?
What could be more innocent? Raw doubts niggled at him as he warned
himself against getting in too deep. The way he’d sprung the
invitation on Gwen had been completely out of character. It had
been a split-second decision, an act on impulse, and Dan was
anything but an impulsive man.

He would never have built his empire of
custom-design homes for the moneyed set if he’d operated from a
basis of anything but collected cool. In those circles, Dan was
known for his keen eye and level head, as well as his effectiveness
in putting together a team. From the highest-level architect to the
most basic yet very skilled carpenter, every one of Holbrook
Designs’ workers was treated with utmost respect and handsomely
paid. This was particularly appreciated in the current economic
climate but had always been the operational mode for Dan. Whether
times were easy or hard, Dan’s business remained steady. While his
homes certainly weren’t cheap, they were of a consistent quality
the buyer could count on. Plus, Dan was a man of his word who stood
by his product. People could depend on him to deliver the best and
ensure they had a comfortable and stunningly beautiful place in
which to live for years to come. It was an area in which Dan felt
confident, competent.

This temporary gallery-running made him feel
something altogether different, and Dan didn’t like it one bit.
While working with the California couple had gone fine, dealing
with Ms. Gwendolyn Marsh had thrown him unexpectedly off-kilter.
Nancy had nowhere near prepared him for that. Just because he’d
helped his big sister finance this place, that didn’t mean he
wanted to be involved in any intimate way. Nancy was the art
history major who loved the ins and outs of acquiring art. Running
a gallery in Santa Fe had always been her dream, and once Dan had
found himself in a position to help with that, he’d been more than
happy to foot the bill. He’d never imagined that she’d repay him by
listing his name as the primary gallery owner. This perpetually led
to confusion, like during his exchange with Gwen today.

No matter. He’d straighten all that out
tomorrow. Surely, after a good lunch and some cordial conversation,
they’d arrive at a fair compromise on price. It would be a simple
matter to smooth over during coffee and dessert. Then Ms. Gwendolyn
Marsh could cart her sexy little tail all the way back to North
Carolina, and Dan would continue counting down the days to Nancy’s
return, when he would once again be free to retreat to the peaceful
quiet of Paradise Ranch. Life wasn’t really so complicated after
all, Dan decided, thinking it through. All you needed was a plan.
And Dan’s plans didn’t include one firecracker of a Southern belle
upending his world and sending his foolish heart racing. For Dan
Holbrook, days like that were done. His throat ached at the memory.
He swallowed hard, trying to force it back down. Dan had stepped
into the fire once and had come out barbequed. No need to start
poking at coals again.

Gwen sat on the patio of her airy suite,
surrounded by sweeping adobe walls, potted ferns, and cactus
flowers. Despite the record-high temperatures, the lack of humidity
made it pleasant enough to stay outdoors in the shade. She sipped
at her host’s complimentary glass of chardonnay, knowing she needed
to be cautious. At seven thousand feet above sea level, one glass
of wine could feel like two. The inn’s cocktail hour had also
offered a selection of fruits, vegetables, and cheeses, and Gwen
had fixed herself a small plate as a buffering against the booze.
She’d have to remain mindful of herself tomorrow at lunch,
particularly in light of the proposed margaritas.

Gwen couldn’t help but feel a slight tingle
of hopeful anticipation. For the first time in as long as she
remembered, she’d be eating out with an eligible man. She knew, of
course, that it was just an art deal, and she was merely passing
through town. It was nonetheless hard to deny the tiniest
fluttering in her tummy that sprang to life each time she recalled
being face-to-face on the floor with the undeniably handsome
Holbrook. Had something authentic actually passed between them, or
had Gwen been so nervous and delusional as to have imagined the
whole thing?

She glanced down at the simple gold band on
her left ring finger. Gwen wasn’t sure if it was her marriage she
couldn’t forget or her failure to maintain it.
“Marshes aren’t
quitters!”
her mom, Elizabeth, had always said. While life may
have quit on Elizabeth, she wasn’t about to let her daughters give
up on anything. It was a mantra burned into them, her and her
sister Marian both. Gwen only wished Marian had quit having babies
about three children ago. Marian was expecting her sixth, and after
years of verbal and physical abuse, her alcoholic husband, Tom, had
finally run out on her. Gwen had truthfully considered this a
blessing, as it had been clear after the first couple of years that
Marian never intended to leave Tom.

Marian worked part-time as a hospital nurse
and tried to get the day shift as much as possible. When she was
gone, she left her oldest, the eleven-year-old, in charge. During
night shifts, her elderly neighbor, Ms. Tilly, helped out. During
the academic year, Marian had daycare arranged for the twins while
the others were in school. She wasn’t sure how she’d manage once
the new baby came along, especially under the threat of losing her
home. Marian’s mortgage was several months overdue, and the
collectors were moving in. She hadn’t told Gwen that Tom stopped
sending payments, or that she was in so deep, until it was almost
too late. As it was, Marian barely had funds in her meager savings
account to buy a few months’ worth of diapers. Her checking account
was essentially empty, being worn down month after month by her
family’s needs, including the kids’ doctors’ bills.

Marian had been in tears when she’d told Gwen
the truth. If she lost her house, she feared her children would be
taken away from her. She had nowhere else to go. Gwen’s sparse
two-bedroom could scarcely hold them all, not for any length of
time, at least. And their mom, having long ago been placed in the
memory-care unit of a retirement home, was far from being able to
help. She barely scraped by on Social Security and most days didn’t
recognize either of her daughters, besides.

If Marian could just hang on one more year
until the twins were in school, she thought she could make it. With
only the new baby to place in daycare, she’d be able to work
full-time. That would give her benefits like a retirement pension
and health insurance. She’d be better able to meet her kids’
medical expenses as well as plan for her own future. As it stood,
she had six months of back mortgage to pay and another twelve
months’ obligation to look forward to. She was overwhelmed and in
pieces, unsure of what to do. Taking Tom to court wasn’t an option.
Marian didn’t have the financial resources, and even if she did, it
would be hard squeezing blood from a stone. Tom was on and off the
bottle and in and out of work. She couldn’t rely on him now any
more than she had during their marriage.

It was a dire and depressing situation. Gwen
had thought for weeks about what she might do to help her sister.
The trouble was Gwen was in financial strife herself. Robert had
been so furious at her for kicking him out, he’d run up over ten
thousand dollars in credit-card debt on purpose. The pro bono
women’s shelter attorney Gwen consulted said there was nothing Gwen
could do about Robert maxing out the account jointly held in their
names. Gwen was unfortunately just as liable for half of his debts
as entitled to half of his earnings. Good luck with that. Robert, a
successful production assistant with a Hollywood company providing
East Coast sets, had found plenty of loopholes in which to stash
his cash. Gwen twisted the simple wedding band once, realizing her
cheeks were damp.

She finished off her chardonnay, more
determined than ever to sell those canvases and at the best
possible price. She’d started small with a few local juried art
shows around town, then had dared to put a modest portfolio of
slides together and began sending it out. Holbrook and Holstein in
Santa Fe had been her first real nibble. In effect, it had been a
really big bite. Top dollar for her work, plus the cost of
round-trip air tickets and accommodations to boot. Holbrook
probably thought that Gwen was being greedy, trying to barter up
the price for her own gain. Nothing could be further from the
truth. Marian’s kids needed their Mamá, and Gwen needed to help her
baby sister. One way or another, Gwen was going to see this
through. Dan Holbrook could think anything about her that he liked.
She’d never see him again after tomorrow anyway.

****

When Dan got to La Cantina, Gwen had already
arrived. He spied her seated at a table for two in the large atrium
styled like a Spanish courtyard and decorated in colorful tile. She
studied the menu as he approached, a white peasant blouse sweeping
her shoulders, hair pinned up in a casual way that offset her
cheekbones and fair complexion. Dan had to stop walking and catch
his breath. She was truly a beautiful woman, even more beautiful
than he’d given her credit for yesterday at the gallery. Then
again, yesterday at the gallery, she’d appeared primed to bite his
head off. Today, she just looked hungry.

“Can I help you find a table, sir?” a tall
waiter in a waistcoat inquired.

“Thanks, I see where I’m going,” Dan said,
shaking the reverie. Hearing their exchange, Gwen looked up at him
and smiled. He felt a little twist in his gut and realized this was
worse than he thought. Dan smiled back pleasantly, determined to
pull himself together. He envisioned a large Weber grill, coals
searing beneath its grate, and suddenly felt driven to thirst.

He joined Gwen at the table, exchanged
pleasantries, then took a long drag of water from the glass that
had been provided at his place. She eyed him curiously as he
drained it all.

“It’s murder out there,” he said, referencing
the weather.

“Certainly is hot,” she agreed.

“I hope you found this place okay.”

“Oh yes, just fine.” Warm brown eyes sparkled
enticingly.

“They’ve got some really great specials
today. Have you taken a look?”

Gwen turned over the menu in her hands, and
he wondered again about that wedding band. How long had she been
divorced, and why would she continue to wear it? Dan reminded
himself that delving into Gwen’s personal affairs was none of his
business.

She surveyed the ample list of entrees. “Any
recommendations?”

“Depends on whether you like spicy.”

She gave him a big, appealing grin. “I love
spicy food. All kinds. But I’d love to try something particular to
the region.” Why did she have to look so darned likable today? She
really wasn’t cooperating in encouraging Dan to keep his
distance.

“Would you like me to order for us?” he
asked, wanting to be helpful yet not wishing to overstep his
bounds.

“That would be nice. Thanks.” Gwen lowered
her face to her menu to disguise a faint blush.

Dan fought a swell of heat, surmising there
wasn’t enough air in here. “Okay, be honest with me. Yes or no to
avocado margaritas?”

“You weren’t kidding, were you?” she asked
with surprise.

“I may be many things, but I’m not really
much of a kidder.”

She stared at him intently, trying to read
him. Dan tried to repress a smile but felt his eyes crinkle just
the same.

“That was kidding, wasn’t it?” she asked,
waving a scolding finger.

He let loose a belly laugh, enjoying himself.
“I’m afraid it was.”

Gwen released a tiny puff of air, apparently
relieved. “I’ll try an avocado margarita,” she answered, “but just
one.”

A little while later, Gwen took her first
taste of the tantalizing southwestern treat. Finely pureed like a
smoothie, it was silky, cool, and delicious. You couldn’t taste the
tequila at all. Gwen was glad she’d made the advance decision to
stick with one. Holbrook did too. He ordered them a delicious
chicken poblano over Mexican rice, with a cold gazpacho soup to
start. It was a perfect meal, and he had been right. After a couple
of margaritas, their conversation flowed a lot more smoothly. For
one thing, she learned that while his name was on it, he didn’t
actually run the gallery. He was merely filling in this month for
his older sister Nancy. His real work involved home building of
some kind. It was a job he seemed to enjoy and which often kept him
outdoors.