How to Marry a Matador (Exclusive Sneak Preview) (20 page)

“To Santa Fe? Why, in just a few days.
They’re all packaged and ready to ship.”

“That settles it, then,” he said with a wide,
easy grin.

“Settles what? I haven’t signed any
contract.”

“No, but if you will, I have an idea,” he
said slyly.

“What sort of idea is that?” she whispered,
angling forward.

Dan looked straight in her eyes with calm
reassurance. “We don’t normally operate this fast, but I do have a
list of potential buyers I can contact.”

Her face lit up like the most stunning
sunrise. “Are you saying what I think you are?”

“If fortune smiles on us, we might be able to
sell a canvas or two before you leave.”

“All five?” she asked with a hopeful
glow.

Dan feared he’d done the wrong thing, caused
her to think it was a certainty that this would go off. But when
she’d gone all weepy on him, it had been impossible for Dan to stop
himself. The truth was he had the means to buy all five of Gwen’s
canvases himself without even making a dent in his money-market
account. But that would make the dealings between them personal,
and Dan had vowed to keep things on a professional level.

Dan returned her gaze with cautious
determination. “Let’s not go pushing our luck,” he said, sensing
he’d gotten in over his head. He envisioned a huge, raw T-bone
getting tossed onto a grill. Perspiration built at his brow, and he
lifted Gwen’s soggy napkin from the table to dab it.

“I need to get back to work,” he said,
standing and helping Gwen with her chair. “Think you might stop by
later to sign the papers? The gallery closes at eight. That would
be a good time.”

“Eight o’clock it is,” she said with a smile
that knocked his socks off and held potential to knock other items
of clothing off too.

Dan said a polite good-bye, then hustled out
of there like a rabbit being hunted by a pack of wild coyotes. He
needed to get his head together and figure his way through these
next few days. Not that this should be a problem for a take-charge
guy like him who knew how and where to draw the line.

Dan knew it was for the best, and really in
Gwen’s interest, for him to back off from any sort of romantic
notions now, while the backing was good. No matter what
Santa
Fean
magazine said about Dan being the “Best Billionaire
Bachelor Catch in the West,” privately he knew his shortcomings
would give even the most understanding woman pause. Dan had been
down that dusty trail once and was determined never to go there
again. Didn’t matter what sort of attractive filly came out of the
gate. The fact of the matter was Dan wasn’t riding.

****

Gwen left the restaurant by exiting onto the
main plaza, an oasis of green in the earth-toned adobe town. Huge
shade trees lined its crisscrossing sidewalks, dotted with
wrought-iron benches and lampposts. Bordered by the nation’s oldest
public building, the Palace of Governors, on one side and an array
of upscale shops on the others, it was the city’s central gathering
spot and playground, complete with a bandstand in which an
impromptu flautist played. Gwen strode past a snow-cone vendor and
a couple of quesadilla carts on her way to explore the smattering
of handmade goods the locals had spread on the ground atop woven
blankets. She surveyed the assorted silver jewelry, accented with
turquoise, and small trinkets for sale with an appreciative eye,
and made complimentary small talk with the Native American and
Mexican peoples proudly showcasing their wares.

A warm breeze blew as the sun angled high,
bathing Santa Fe in its rosy glow, the impressive Sangre de Cristo
Mountains just visible in the distance, their highest peaks capped
with snow, even in summertime. Gwen made her way up a side street
to visit Saint Francis Cathedral, a stunning Romanesque Revival
structure challenging the surrounding adobe architecture with its
sweeping arches and brightly hued stained-glass windows.

Perspiration dampened her hairline as she
climbed the steps to the building’s entrance. It was warmer in the
sunlight, the scarcely filtered ultraviolet rays bearing down on
her, causing her feet and hands to swell. At once, the thin gold
band on her left ring finger felt too tight. She twisted it
slightly as she continued her ascent toward the cathedral’s front
door. Gwen hadn’t prayed for anything in a long time. In fact, she
hadn’t been to church since Robert left. Maybe she should have.
Thinking it over, she understood she had much to be thankful for.
Not least among her blessings was her opportunity to come here.

Gwen passed through the enormous wooden door,
her senses immediately engulfed by burning incense. Though she
wasn’t Catholic, she didn’t believe God would mind if she took a
spot on a pew for a few moments to mull through her life. What an
event it had been. There’d been so much to it she’d never seen
coming. When she met Robert in college, he’d appeared so promising.
He was ambitious and fun and seemed poised to carve out a good life
for himself and any lady lucky enough to join him. When he’d asked
Gwen to marry him just before graduation, she’d been over the moon.
He had a good job offer in Wilmington, and they could settle in the
nearby town where Gwen had grown up and her family still lived. It
had all seemed so idyllic at first.

Gwen glanced down at the completely
ineffectual wedding ring as her hand rested in her lap. It hadn’t
taken long for Robert to find someone he thought more intelligent
and interesting than her. She bored him to tears with her tales of
kids in school and had no real talents as far as he could gather.
The people he worked with were insightful, intuitive, interesting…
Maybe if Gwen looked more at the papers or followed the news, she’d
be interesting too, though he kind of doubted it.

Gwen heaved a sigh, knowing she couldn’t
continue to beat herself up over Robert’s shortcomings. When she
was thinking clearly, as Marian often encouraged her to do, she
understood that her marriage falling apart had more to do with him
than her. Or perhaps it was due to them both and the fact that,
once they’d escaped from the cocoonlike sanctuary of the
university, neither of them truly fit together. Gwen wondered sadly
if she was destined to fit together with any man. Perhaps that
wasn’t in the cards for her, and maybe that was okay. If her art
took off and she built herself a career, something that she adored
and was really proud of, that might be enough.

She considered her meeting this evening with
Dan, realizing she’d been acting like a silly schoolgirl. It wasn’t
his fault she hadn’t dated since her divorce, so why should she
hold him accountable for her surging hormones? Any nice-looking man
who’d paid her attention would likely have made her feel the same.
As an elementary schoolteacher, she simply hadn’t had much
opportunity for that. All the men she met were either married or
formerly married and quickly reattached. It seemed the decent ones
didn’t last long on the market. From what she’d gathered from her
quick perusals of Internet dating sites, the perpetual bachelors
all seemed to have something wrong with them. Then again, Dan
appeared normal. Exceedingly normal, healthy, and sexually enticing
as well. So why hadn’t a tamale-hot catch like him been snapped up
already?

Gwen decided to head back to the inn to cool
off for a few hours before her gallery appointment. This praying
business didn’t seem to be going too well. She thought she’d
probably done it wrong. It had been such a while, she couldn’t
tell. In any case, she was grateful to Dan for granting her this
chance. At the heart of it, Gwen understood that was all this
really was, a chance to sell some of her art to a very fine place
and hopefully help turn her sister’s life around. That was worth a
few amens, no doubt. She dipped her head, offering them quickly,
and bowed out of the cathedral before anyone could stop her and ask
her for money. That was one part of going to church she hadn’t
forgotten. There was a lady near the door collecting donations for
the restoration fund. Gwen slipped silently past her and out into
the sunshine before the woman could hold up a brochure. Maybe once
Gwen was rich and famous she’d feel a bit more philanthropic. At
the moment, she scarcely had cash for dinner. She’d have to hurry
to catch the wine-and-cheese hour before the other guests cleaned
out the Havarti.

Dan paced the redwood-pine floors,
double-checking the time on his BlackBerry. The afternoon couldn’t
have dragged out more if he’d planned it. It all seemed to go in
slow motion, as if he were deep-sea diving, arms and legs battling
against ocean pressure.

The occasional browsers stopped by, and there
was the shipment to get out to Los Angeles, but Nancy’s assistant
Megan had come in to see to that. She wore a nose piercing and a
puckish haircut that added to her image of a small sprite sprinting
around the gallery. Dan had never seen a twenty-three-year-old with
so much energy. She was very astute though, her nimble mind eager
to acquire anything and everything about gallery running. She hoped
to manage a place of her own one day and apparently did some sort
of printmaking on the side.

“That’s it, then,” Megan said, peering up at
him through heavily mascaraed eyes. “Think that I might sneak out
early? I’ve got a date for drinks at Nines.” Nines was the hipster
bar on an adobe rooftop overlooking the mountains.

“Don’t let me hold you back,” Dan said.

“Are you all right?” Megan asked. “You’ve
seemed a little…off this afternoon. Maybe you should head out early
too.”

Dan was more than a little off; he was
distractingly discombobulated. He’d spent over three hours poring
through Nancy’s customary client list, trying to discern those who
might be interested in Gwen’s work. If he’d had his head on
straight, the task might have taken him forty-five minutes.
Instead, he’d caught himself daydreaming at every turn, reliving
his lively lunch with Ms. Gwendolyn Marsh. Just as in the gallery
the day before, he’d been sucked in by the feminine scent of her.
Didn’t help one iota that she obviously perfumed her legs, legs
that were attached to one knock-out of a womanly body, teamed with
a damnably adorable and kissable, he couldn’t help but reason,
face. And, when her eyes sparked with delight at the thought that
he might help her, could actually sell her canvases in this absurd
ten-day timeframe, Dan’s heart had done an unexpected
flip-flop.

“I’m fine,” he lied to Megan. “Why don’t you
go on ahead? I’ve got an artist stopping by at closing. I’ll lock
up.”

Megan grabbed her colorful straw bag that
looked large enough to hold a weekend wardrobe and pranced out the
door.

Dan strode to the desk and withdrew Gwen’s
contract from the nearby filing cabinet. He glanced through the
folder for maybe the tenth time today, ensuring everything was in
order. The paperwork was all lined up. Now all Dan had to do was
steel his heart. He was getting far too carried away with this.
Just because Gwen looked like an angel and spoke in a sweet
Southern twang that was sexy as sin, that didn’t mean he’d have to
give in to her. He was a rational man, by all accounts, savvy at
business dealings and skilled at keeping his emotions in check.

Okay, he’d made that one mistake. But it
wasn’t like it was going to come back to haunt him. It had been
more than a month now, and he’d heard nothing further about it. It
had been a harsh lesson in letting sleeping dogs lie. Once you make
a pact to move on, there should be no looking back. Looking ahead
wasn’t sounding so safe at the moment either. Gwen was scheduled to
be in town only ten days. She had her life back East to lead, and
Dan had his own ghosts to contend with here. He shook off a gloomy
feel, determined to make the best of their meeting. Dan was
sensible enough to know he could assist a damsel in distress
without falling into bed with her. And just to make certain he
hadn’t forgotten, the fates had pressed a branding iron to his
chest a mere six weeks ago to drive that message home.

Gwen tugged at the zipper of her skirt,
sliding it up her ample hip. She’d put on a few pounds since her
divorce but still looked okay, she supposed. She’d never been
accused of being overly thin. Marian was the slight one in the
family, while Gwen fought the perpetual battle of the booty.
Breasts, hips, and thighs had a will of their own. No matter how
she tried, they relished maintaining their prefab form. After a
while, Gwen had just given up and decided to enjoy life. As long as
she operated within reason, didn’t diet or exercise too much, she
could stay within the same five-pound range that she’d grown
accustomed to and certain men seemed to appreciate.

Gwen flushed at the memory of Dan’s sky-blue
gaze. At first she’d thought he’d just been flattering her, trying
to put a gallery contact at ease. But the more she pondered it, the
less she thought so. As they’d sat there discussing canvas pricing,
his heated perusal had washed all over her like the clearest
Caribbean wave. Gwen imagined the two of them on a distant beach,
Dan bare-chested in the sun. He’d tell her once more how beautiful
she was, and, half-naked in her tummy-control swimsuit, she’d feel
forced to believe it. He’d take her by the waist then, pull her
soft body to his, taut stomach muscles tensing as he wrapped his
arms around her… Gwen heard the surf crash, water swirling
furiously at their feet, as he brought his glorious mouth to
hers.

Suddenly, she realized she’d stalled in
applying her lipstick and was standing there all puckered up like a
ridiculous guppy. “That’s the price I pay for that second Shiraz,”
she scolded herself, vowing to make coffee. She was glad the
suite’s miniature kitchen supplied what she needed for that. Now
where was the sugar cube she could find to quell her outlandish
fantasies?