Santa Fe Fortune & How to Marry a Matador

herself on wobbly knees. If merely shaking hands had this much effect, she’d hate to see the pool of putty she’d be in if he’d dared to kiss her.
    “Have you eaten anything since lunch?” he asked with concern.
    Gwen pulled herself together, realizing she must have suddenly paled. “I had some wine and cheese back at the inn.”
    “Havarti?” he asked, with uncanny insight.
    “How did you…?”
    He repressed a grin, pointing to the back of her head. Gwen ran panicked fingers through her hair, finding a nice little chunk of cheese caught up in her curls.
    She stared at him, mortified. “I’m so embarrassed,” she began.
    “Don’t be,” he offered kindly. “I get Camembert in mine all the time.”
    She scanned his face for the hint of a smile but couldn’t detect one beneath his deadpan.
    “This time, I know you’re teasing,” she said, and the moment between them lightened.
    Small lines tugged at the corners of his mouth as blue eyes crinkled. “Something tells me you’re getting to know me too well.” His gaze held a hint of longing mixed with caution. “Wine and cheese isn’t much of a dinner. I know a place with great steaks, if you’d like to join me?”
    Gwen knew she was wrong to say yes. Everything inside her screamed caution, slippery roads ahead . But all Gwen wanted to do was get in that spectacular sports car and drive.
    “I’d love to,” she said, accepting his invitation.

    Dan led them down a side street to an elegant outdoor restaurant set a few blocks from the plaza. The shaded pathway to its entrance bypassed the abutting Loretto Chapel, a notable nineteenth-century structure in Gothic Revival style, complete with buttresses and spires.
    “Have you been in there?” Dan asked as they strolled by the wind art adorning the chapel’s lawn.
    Gwen admired the huge hands of the whimsical brass structures cupping and turning in the breeze as the sun sank low. “Not yet.”
    Her view panned to a fanciful wood carving of a man guarding the chapel door.
    “Saint Joseph,” Dan said, indicating the statue. “I’ll tell you the story over dinner. You do believe in miracles?” He was smiling at her in a playful way.
    A shiver shimmied down Gwen’s spine, as she thought it was nothing short of miraculous that she was here, right now, with him. Dan Holbrook was not just a feast for the eyes, he was funny and kind and apparently enjoying her company. Plus, he made her feel beautiful. Not just because he’d said it. It was in the way he looked at her, all the time.
    “I’ll keep an open mind,” she said, smiling back at him.

    Dan shoved his hand in his pocket to prevent himself from reaching out and taking hers. In some ways, it would have seemed natural as he led her toward the maître d. In others, it was completely absurd! Dan heaved a sigh, grateful good sense had prevailed.
    “Are you all right?” she asked, chocolate-brown eyes imploring.
    “Just taking in the evening,” he said, thankful there was no wait for a table.
    He ordered them filet mignon with a mushroom, red pepper, and sherry reduction, Caesar salads to start, and a choice bottle of Chilean red wine. Dan didn’t want to mess this up. Gwen’s dinner had to be perfect. He’d slipped the maître d an unseen tip to ensure it. He’d also told Gwen upfront that the meal was on him. He’d seen the way her brow had knitted slightly as she’d surveyed the menu prices. Dan wasn’t sure what sort of money trouble she was in, but he could bet her budget didn’t include places like this one.
    “The service is fabulous here,” Gwen said as her water glass magically refilled.
    Dan had the impression Gwen wasn’t used to men treating her right. He was glad to be able to change that, to show her that not all men were schmucks, maybe just the ones she’d previously run into. “Wait until you taste the food.”
    She smiled sweetly over the rim of her wineglass. “ This carménère is delicious. I’m so glad I got to try it.”
    “Should go well with the steak,” Dan said, hoping he’d scored a point. For the life of him, he wanted to impress this woman. She looked prettier than ever, sitting there relaxed in the candle’s glow. He compared her now to how she’d appeared yesterday afternoon in the gallery, anxiously combative, like if he didn’t see things her way, there’d be hell to pay. He probably liked this Gwen better. Though the truth of the matter was Dan didn’t really mind the other one