Santa Fe Fortune & How to Marry a Matador

arms steadying his position on the railing. It had been Gustavo, nine years ago, who’d pulled him from near-certain death. ¡Olé!
    Fernando felt his sweat building, steaming his temples. ¡Olé!
    While he was not as young as he’d once been, he still had the stamina of teenagers half his age. Hadn’t he proved that time and again with Jessica? In thinking of her, he spied a heavenly image. The love of his life racing toward him. No, a mirage. Had to be. So then why did she smile sweetly and call out his name? And Gustavo, rushing to her, begging her to quell her eager cries…
    Fernando turned toward the bull, seconds too late, to find Alejandro nearly upon him. Jessica’s eyes flashed with terror as Gustavo lunged forward.
    “Fernando!” she called in a voice shrill with panic. The thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud of menacing hoofbeats thundered near. Alejandro lowered his head, positioned for a death thrust. He was angry and tired of these human creatures that continued to torment him.

    Jess stopped short, caught in Gustavo’s quick embrace. “Leave it,” he said, his tone terse.
    But how could she leave what she witnessed happening before her? Fernando was about to get gored by a bull, most certainly on account of her! She’d distracted him at a critical moment, leaving him limited time to react. Oh my God, not now! Not her dear Fernando. Tears burned hot down Jess’s checks as Fernando turned on the bull, confronting him head-on. What impressed Jess most was Fernando’s calm. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t back away. Just stood there, poised and ready. Seconds ticked by like hours as the bull advanced.
    And then, without warning, Fernando lunged forward, seizing the enormous beast by his horns. In a flash, Fernando flipped over him, landing hard with one shoulder to the animal’s back and then crashing in a heap to the ground.
    Gustavo released Jess and raced into the ring, swinging open its gate and coaxing the bull outside. He bolted back toward Fernando, panting, to find Jess hopelessly wailing at his side.

Chapter Fourteen

    Jess sat in the beautifully designed living area, not daring to meet Señora Garcia de la Vega’s eyes. She blamed Jess, of course. The accident never would have happened without Jess’s unexpected arrival and invasion on the scene. Gustavo had assisted in getting Fernando upstairs, and the doctor had been with them for over an hour. Jess wanted to pray but wasn’t sure it would count. She wasn’t exactly in with the Holy Savior, and the one here went through the pope besides. Jess wouldn’t know where to begin other than to suggest lighting candles. That sounded right and was something they always did in movies.
    “Would it help if we lit some candles?” she lamely asked Fernando’s mom.
    Ana María’s charcoal gaze fell on hers. “The electricity works just fine.”
    “Right,” Jess said, pressing her knees together firmly. She’d worn a short dress, one she’d thought was sexy. The fashion change-up had been impromptu and had occurred once Evie had taken her leave. After Jess declared she wasn’t going back to New York, Eve initially hadn’t understood her reservation about sharing the taxi. “Well, you’ve got to get back to the airport, haven’t you?” was all Evie had asked. The truth was, Jess did need to get to the airport. But first she had a few essential items to take care of, like stopping by the main post office and changing into an outfit that would sweep a matador off his feet.
    Jess sucked in a breath, realizing she’d done more than that. She’d landed him facedown in the dirt. If Fernando were hurt in any substantial way, she’d never forgive herself, or her designer mini either. Fernando had always been fond of her legs. Perhaps their full revelation at such a critical moment had proved disastrous. No, Jess couldn’t take full credit for that. It wasn’t really her fault Fernando had gotten hurt, was it? And he couldn’t be hurt in any horrible way if he’d been able to let Gustavo help him up the stairs.
    The doctor appeared, traipsing down the steps, a limp stethoscope strung around his neck.
    Ana María stood tensely.
    “He wants to see you,” the old man said, staring straight at Jess.
    A wellspring of hope arose in her heart. “He’s all right?” Jess asked.
    “A little sore, but yes, he’ll live.”
    “Thank God,” Ana María said, sinking back in her chair.
    Jess stood and straightened her skirt, hoping she