How to Marry a Matador (Exclusive Sneak Preview) (4 page)

“
Gracias.
They slipped my mind.”

She huffed as he stuffed small portions of
these in his bag as well. “So?” she asked. “Are you going on a
picnic or running away?” Since he’d been eight years old, the
latter had crossed Fernando’s mind more than a dozen times. Yet he
would never leave her. When his father had died at forty-nine,
Fernando had been left manning the ranch. While he’d grown older
and had moved to Madrid, his heart remained in La Esperanza del
Corazón. He would always take care of his mother. She’d been his
source of strength and had granted him the freedom to follow his
dreams, even when they included—for a time—dabbling in the one
profession she’d prayed to God he’d never pursue.

“We won’t be gone long,” he said, buttoning
up his satchel. “Back by nightfall,
vale
?”

She paused for a thoughtful moment, seeming
to soften just a little. “Fernando,” she said, “are you sure you’re
doing the right thing? Is this girl really the one?”

He pensively eyed his mother, knowing she
wished only to protect him.

“The situation is…complicated,” he said
truthfully, without giving too much away.

“Love is always complicated,” she admitted
with resignation in her eyes.

“Yes, Mamá,
”
he said, kissing her on
the forehead. “It is.”

“I still don’t think this is a good idea for
the baby!” she called after him. “I was an experienced horsewoman,
you know!”

He turned back with a gentle smile. “If she
shows any signs of trouble, we’ll abandon the horses immediately.
Jessica’s in top form, and it’s still very early. I can assure you
with my word as your son, I would never take my new bride riding if
I felt that our child was in danger.”

****

Jess gripped the satellite phone with white
knuckles. “He’s a liar and a cheat, and I don’t know
how
I
let myself get talked into this!”

Evie’s calm voice resonated from the other
side of the Atlantic. “Now, if you’d just take a deep breath and
calm down, maybe I’d be able to understand you. Inhale, come
on.”

Jess imagined Evie was twisting up her hair,
as she did when taking on her consultant role. Evie’s fiery red
tresses fell in ringlets to her shoulders. She had a habit of
twisting them into a French knot and securing it with any handy
implement. Even a chopstick or a pencil would do. Jess had always
envied that ability, as her own stick-straight hair wouldn’t even
hold a barrette.

Jess took a deep breath, then let it out
slowly.

“Better?”

“Are we on speakerphone?” Jess asked.

“Nobody’s here. Out for the three-martini
lunch.” Evie worked in a small yet prestigious publishing firm
where publicity deals were forever being cut. As an assistant, she
practically ran the place but still barely got paid. Jess was
secretly ashamed to earn so much more than her, knowing that Evie
worked just as hard. Jess didn’t feel nearly as smart or savvy as
everyone thought she was. She owed her early success to a series of
lucky breaks. If things had broken differently, it could just as
easily have been her sitting in her old college roommate’s
chair.

“Well, I’d appreciate you taking it off, just
the same.”

Evie’s reply came back without the previous
echo effect. “Okay, so tell me again, because I know I didn’t hear
you clearly. It sounded almost like you’d said you’d gotten
married!” She affected a laugh.

Jess’s heart lurched in her chest. It
did
sound absurd, and she knew it. Especially for her. Jess
winced, hearing her voice come out as a squeak. “It’s true, Evie.
Oh my God.”

“
What?
”

Jess bit into her knuckle, stopping her
knee-jerk reaction at the first flash of pain. Her pulse was
racing, and her head pounded. As bad this already was, somehow it
sounded worse admitting it to her best friend. “I did it, Evie.
Just last night. I married a matador.”

Evie’s tone was shrill with disbelief. “How
did you do that?”

Jess grimaced. “It was a mistake.”

Evie huffed into her mouthpiece. “No, Jess, a
mistake
is missing your connection at the airport,
forgetting to pack extra panties! A mistake is
not
marrying
a matador!” She paused a beat, then began slowly. “I know what this
is. It’s a joke, isn’t it? Ha ha! Right?”

Jess stared down at the naked spot on her
ring finger. As soon as there was time, he’d told her, he’d buy her
a big, beautiful engagement ring—and a wedding band to match.
Didn’t matter to him that they’d never technically been
engaged.

“Jess…” Evie queried. “The silence is scaring
me.”

“He’s not really a matador,” Jess said,
blinking hard. “I mean, not anymore. It’s more like the family
business.”

“So what’s this guy do?”

“He’s in telecommunications.”

“Hold the phone. Wait just one New York
second. This couldn’t possibly be…? Is it Fernando we’re talking
about?”

Jess felt her face flash hot.

“But you hate the guy!”

“That’s just what I was saying!”

“No. You said you’d married him.”

“That too.”

“Hoo boy.”

“Yep.”

“So, what did you do? Fly to the Spanish
version of Vegas?”

“More like stepped into a time warp.”

“I don’t understand.”

“La Esperanza del Corazón, some little
Spanish town near Seville.”

Jess could imagine Evie massaging her
forehead. While Evie often got into trouble, she very rarely got
stressed. Stressing was Jess’s department. “When did this
happen?”

“Just last night.”

“Oh, good, then it’s a fresh mistake. Go out
and get it undone.”

“I plan to,” Jess said with more resolve than
she felt. “Just as soon as everything here opens back up.”

“What’s wrong with today?”

“It’s Sunday, Eve. And tomorrow is some sort
of saint day. It will be Tuesday before we can get things
straightened out.”

“Did you sleep with him?”

Jess hesitated a moment too long.

“Maybe a little.”

“A little?”

“Okay, it was a lot. Quite a lot. Four times,
to be exact.”

“That’s some Latin lover.”

Jess sighed, reliving the heat of Fernando’s
caress trailing down the length of her spine.

“That good, eh?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to!”

Jess heard footsteps on the stairs. “Look
Evie, I’ve got to run. Fernando’s taking me riding.”

“Not on a bull, I hope!”

“Horses, Evie,” she said in hushed tones.
“He’s promised to explain the whole thing.”

“Which thing?”

“Why he wants to keep this sham of a marriage
going.”

“This sounds dangerous, Jess.”

“He’s not dangerous, I swear. In fact, he’s a
very devoted son.”

“
You met his mother?
”

“And she thinks I’m pregnant.”

“Jess!”

She heard him approach the door and rap
soundly.

“Is my new bride ready to ride?”

“Oh my God, is that him? Love the
accent.”

“I’ll call you later,” Jess whispered. “As
soon as I know more!”

“Wait! Don’t—”

But Jess had already pressed End Call and
opened the door.

Fernando smiled at her sweetly, a bulging
satchel slung over his shoulder. “I’m glad to see my sister’s
riding clothes fit you so well.”

Her face flushed as he gave her an
appreciative perusal. The fact was, they were a bit snug, but Jess
had managed to struggle into them.

“What will you tell your mother about taking
a woman in my condition riding?”

“I already told her what I’ll now promise
you.” He leveled her a look with his deep green eyes, and Jess once
again had that tumbling sensation. “That I would never, ever put
you in danger.”

Jess caught her breath, wondering for a
panicked second if he’d overheard her phone conversation.

Fernando brought a hand to her face and
gently stroked her cheek. “You do believe that,
querida
?”

Jess felt her heart thunder in response.

In spite of herself, she did. She was
actually starting to fear she’d too easily believe just about
anything Fernando told her. She was glad they were going outdoors
and far from this room and its host of heated memories.

“After you,” he said, gallantly stepping
aside and letting her pass.

Eve pulled the ballpoint pen from her hair
and anxiously thumped its cap against her desktop.
Married to a
matador!
How could the normally sensible Jessica have let
herself get talked into that? What was more concerning still was
that she actually seemed to be considering staying in that hasty
marriage. Eve turned toward her laptop and quickly pulled up a
search engine, typing in
Fernando Garcia de la Vega,
bullfighter
. Links for the name “Garcia de la Vega” popped up.
More than two thousand results. Wow. She selected “search images,”
and photos of the devastatingly handsome Fernando flooded the
screen. Fernando as a boy beside his equally attractive father,
both dressed in full matador regalia… Fernando in the ring at
twenty-two… A more mature Fernando with a gorgeous woman on his arm
at an animal rights fundraiser in Madrid… What?

Eve clicked on the related story and began
reading. It seemed that Fernando’s grandfather had not only been
one of Spain’s most prized matadors, he’d also introduced a new
form of “
a mano
” bullfighting in which the bull was killed
cleanly with one stroke. Picadors were still present in the ring
but only for show. None were allowed to injure or torment the bull.
This was a game of pure skill, man versus beast, each with his own
pointed weapon. One matador’s blade against two deadly horns. His
insistence on fighting this way had made him more than a famous
matador; he’d become something of a folk hero, known for his
respect for the bulls as well as his utter bravery. He’d died in
the ring before the age of fifty, just as his son—Fernando’s
father—had, leaving behind an enormous estate.

Eve returned to the images, studying the one
of Fernando as a boy who appeared to be about eight. She scanned
the date of the picture, mentally calculating that Fernando must
now be in his early thirties. Jessica was twenty-eight, and
beautiful and talented. She hadn’t had the best luck with men to
date, but that didn’t mean she’d have to run off and marry some guy
in Spain! If Eve had the leave-time and the money, she’d get on a
plane herself and talk some sense into Jess. Eve drew a deep
breath, hoping that wouldn’t be necessary. Eve twisted her hair
back up and penned it in place. Surely, Jess would come around on
her own and quickly extract herself from that
marriage by
mistake
. If she didn’t, Eve might just have to go begging to
her boss and break out the credit card. What else on earth were
best friends for?

“Jessica! Wait up!” Fernando called,
galloping after her.

It had been years since she’d been on a
horse, and she delighted in the freedom of the ride.

Fernando gave a loud call, and his bay
Andalusian stallion picked up speed, drawing alongside Jess’s gray
mare.

“You are moving awfully fast for a woman in
your condition.” He shot her a charming grin. “Not that I’d expect
anything less from a spitfire like you.”

Jess slowed her horse to a trot as Fernando
kept pace. “The pregnancy thing was really over the top,” she said,
giving him a glance. “Even for a flamboyant inventor like you.”

He tilted his chin in her direction, easily
reining in his horse. “I know, and I apologize for surprising you.
It’s just—when the idea occurred, it fit so perfectly with
everything else.”

“What everything else?”

He gestured to a grove of olive trees up
ahead in the distance. “We’ll find some afternoon shade over there.
Let’s stop for a while and rest the horses.”

Jess was irritated he kept putting her off.
She was ready for the truth and deserved it now.

Fernando dismounted, then held out his hand.
She accepted his help in getting off her horse, nearly sliding into
his arms. He was ruggedly handsome out here on these windswept
plains, the sun dancing above them in a nearly cloudless azure
sky.

“Would you mind holding this?” he asked,
depositing the satchel in her arms. He withdrew a light picnic
blanket from its interior and spread it beneath the craggy branches
of an ancient tree.

“Won’t you sit?” he said, retrieving the bag
to lay it on the ground, where he kneeled beside it.

Jess sat uncertainly at a safe distance,
taking in the lovely landscape, the ranch, and the riding ring
barely visible beyond the rolling vineyards. “How much property do
you own?” she asked.

“Enough to get by,” he said, uncorking the
wine. “Although it’s not really mine.” He handed her a plastic cup
filled to the brim with the lush, aromatic wine.

“It smells divine,” she said, taking a sip
and appreciating its full-bodied warmth and peppery finish. “Hmm.
Is this one of yours?”

“A Bodega Garcia 2005. Do you like it?”

Jess more than liked it. It was fabulous, as
was this place. Yet, she reminded herself, Fernando hadn’t taken
her into the country for some casual wine tasting. There were more
serious matters at play. “It’s delicious,” she said, cupping her
glass in both hands. “Now, your story?”

Fernando sighed, worry lines creasing his
brow. “You’re terribly angry with me, aren’t you?”

“It takes two to tango, Fernando. I’m not
saying all of this is your fault. I played a part in what happened
yesterday too.”

He turned toward her with a penetrating look.
“That’s what I don’t understand. Why did you?”

Jess felt a lurch of emotion as he dissected
her with his earnest green gaze. “I…don’t know.”