Santa Fe Fortune & How to Marry a Matador

lipstick. She smacked thin lips together, then checked her image in a compact purse mirror.
    “Um-hmm,” she agreed. “Absolutely. Maybe you’ll pick up something for Shangri-La?”
    “Vacation home on the Gulf Coast,” the first one said to Dan by way of explanation.
    “I think these might be well suited to a place like that. I hope you’ll drop back by?”
    “Of course we will,” the shorter one said, suddenly taking charge. Her sister raised both eyebrows. “Well, I wouldn’t want you to pass up the opportunity. You heard what he said; it might be perfect for you. Besides, you don’t know how many others he’s advised to stop in.”
    Both shot Dan inquiring, green-eyed glances. “I have to admit I’ve been spreading the word,” he said pleasantly.
    “That settles it, then,” the shorter one said.
    “Emily’s right, I am intrigued. When will the new work be available to view?”
    “The day after tomorrow. We open at ten.”
    “Delightful!” the taller woman said. “My name’s Victoria, by the way,” she said, offering Dan her hand. “Victoria Kent.”
    “Dan Holbrook,” he said, with a short, businesslike handshake.
    “Holbrook as in Holbrook and Holstein?” Emily inquired.
    “One and the same,” Dan said with a pleasant smile. “Although the real brains behind the operation belongs to my sister, Nancy.”
    “I can see where the muscle comes in,” Emily added with an admiring gaze.
    Dan thought he saw Gwen pass by again.
    “Excuse me just one second,” he said, striding to the door and peering outside. A figure in a flouncy skirt and highly stylized boots slipped around the corner.
    “Everything all right?” Victoria called from the gallery’s center.
    “Just thought I recognized someone,” Dan said, wondering if he was losing his mind. “I hope to see you both back here on Friday.”
    “We wouldn’t miss it for the world, would we, Victoria?” Emily said in a tone that was a tad too flirty.
    “Not for the world,” Victoria agreed with a bright smile.

    Gwen scurried around the corner, then stopped to catch her breath. Was she out of her mind? She must have strolled past Holbrook and Holstein’s array of windows a half dozen times, just hoping to catch sight of him. And then, when she had, he’d been caught up in conversation with two gorgeous women!
    “Excuse me, honey,” the first one said, nearly running over her.
    Gwen scooted out of the way as the pair closed in. The shorter one pointed to Gwen’s feet, then shot Gwen an appreciative look. “Radical boots!” she said, strolling by. She linked arms with the other one, and the two of them strode off, sharing private jokes and laughter, their pencil-thin legs gleaming in the sunlight.
    Gwen felt her face burn hot and ducked into a nearby gallery to cool off. So okay, she’d had a weak moment. Not long after she’d opted not to buy these boots, she’d decided she had to. How often did she treat herself anyway? The answer was never. Gwen had spent her whole life on a financial tightrope of one sort or another. Growing up, she’d felt guilty about the sacrifices her single mother constantly made; then in marriage, she’d been burdened with Robert’s unending scrutiny. After the divorce, she’d scarcely had two coins to rub together and had a debt crisis to recover from besides. She wasn’t about to indulge in extravagances. But the truth was Gwen was tired, flat-out exhausted from the merciless monetary restraint. She wanted one thing, just one little thing, that she could buy and claim as hers without feeling as if she’d have to head straight to church afterwards.
    Feeling emboldened by the wine-and-cheese hour, she’d pranced right back to the Wild West Boutique and extracted her charge card. It had been a glorious moment, preceded by heady anticipation. Gwen was about to do something wonderful for herself and not get caught! Or so she hoped. Just to ensure her moral turpitude wouldn’t count against her, Gwen had dropped by Loretto Chapel on the way back to the inn. Comforted by Catholic memorabilia, fresh flowers, and dripping rosaries, she’d immediately felt her sin absolved. There she was in the presence of the miraculous staircase, for heaven’s sake! How could the Mighty Savior give a fiddle about fancy boots when there were such acts of grandeur to contemplate?
    Gwen ducked behind an indoor sculpture as a man matching Dan’s description passed by on the street. She’d presumably come