Santa Fe Fortune & How to Marry a Matador

Esperanza del Corazón, he’d presented her with this high-tech replacement that received service in any locale, even in the most remote regions of Africa. He’d programmed in just one number, his, and had promised to transfer her address book over once they’d returned to the ranch. But with Evie’s unexpected arrival and Jess’s rushed departure from town, the data transfer had never taken place.
    Jess’s thumb hovered over the single entry in her address book. Maybe she should call him now to say she was on the way. That would be the polite thing to do, wouldn’t it? Give him a bit of warning. Jess considered her alternatives, weighing the fact that if she caught Fernando in an off mood, he just might get on his horse and decide to go on an eternal ride. If he was angry still and there was going to be some sort of showdown, best to have it occur first thing. Get it done with, so their happily ever after could begin. And it would start too. That was, if Jess had anything to do with it, which she most certainly intended to.
    Jess surveyed the landscape of flowing sunflower fields and twisted almond groves, grasping the fact that this was her new home. It was a place she would grow to love, because it was a place she had selected. All her life, Jess had been told what to do, advised on the course which suited her best. Now, she had decided for herself to take this brave, untraveled path—and see where it led. She was over the moon at the thought of sharing it with Fernando, the sexy Spaniard who’d vowed to love and protect her, and to whom she wished to give her heart.
    What this meant for her job, she wasn’t sure, but she trusted Fernando would be supportive as she worked things out. Perhaps she could make an arrangement with her existing company, or maybe she’d be adventuresome and branch out, starting a new endeavor of her own. Whatever she would do, Jess would ensure the career choice was hers . Something that called to her and to which she could contribute. Something that made her proud of her efforts and tired with satisfaction at the end of each day.
    They came to the turn in the drive to Casa Garcia de la Vega, which loomed large in its splendor before them. Jess realized with a smile that for most of her life she’d been running away. Suddenly, here she was in Spain, galloping ahead. If she could move any faster, she would. Oh, to see Fernando and tell him all that was in her heart and head. Jess was bursting with the moment as she leapt from the cab, nearly forgetting to pay the driver. He thanked her with a tip of his cap and left her standing on the large stone steps with her luggage.
    Before this day ended, Jess’s new life would begin.

    Fernando stood in the ring, facing off, eye to eye, with Alejandro. The animal stood five feet at the shoulder, a mixture of muscle and menace. Fernando had never really known what had provoked Alejandro’s ire, but he’d been ornery since the day he was born. When he’d been rejected as a candidate for the corrida, Ana María had next thought to place him in Pamplona. But the officials there investigated Alejandro’s unsavory history with horses and had deemed him a bad risk for marauding tourists hoping to best the bulls during the July street fest. So he’d stayed on the ranch, his temperament worsening with age. He was now in the prime of his life, fiercely fit and unruly. Fernando lowered his cape as the beast scraped the dirt with his hoof. Then with a swish, he twirled the cape sideways as Alejandro tore by, barely breezing past Fernando’s right side. Fernando turned on his heels, once more beckoning the bull. Each paso was perfect, his feet keeping rhythm with his body and expertly marking the tempo of the fluttering red cape.
    A noise erupted in Fernando’s ears, the sweet cacophony of the crowd urging him on. “ ¡Olé! ” Fernando shouted as Alejandro passed him by yet again, this time on his left. Theirs was an intricate dance, a ballet, really, and Fernando delighted in his practiced control—each muscle primed and ready. This was the life he was born to. He loved the corrida and couldn’t deny it. Every ounce of his soul keened in the wind as he scarcely missed the deadly horns. Fernando buckled as Alejandro swept by once more, skillfully avoiding danger. He’d been gored once and didn’t long to repeat it. His whole life had flashed in one instant at the tender age of twenty-three. He saw Gustavo sitting on the fence, strong