Santa Fe Fortune & How to Marry a Matador

didn’t. I absolutely didn’t! I saw Loretto Chapel, too!”
    “So, what did you think? About the staircase?”
    “I thought it was awesome. Really and truly. Whether or not you believe in the miracle, it’s certainly something to see.”
    Nope, what was something to see sat right across from him. Gwen was gorgeous in that sexy peasant top, long, lacy earrings dangling against the inviting line of her neck. Dan studied her expression, noting she appeared happy and carefree. The way her deep brown eyes caught the soft light was nothing short of amazing. The sun set beyond them, casting long shadows across the mountains surrounding Santa Fe
    “It’s beautiful up here,” she said, looking around. “You were right about the view.”
    “I like what I’m looking at,” he said, diving into her with his eyes. Color dusted her cheekbones as the wine steward arrived with their selection. Dan tasted and accepted the bottle, then handed Gwen her poured glass.
    “What do we drink to?” she asked.
    “How about to fortune?”
    “To good fortune for the two of us,” she said, clinking his glass.
    In that instant, Dan knew he was doomed. Gwen was beautiful in the sunset, soft gold curls framing her face. And she wasn’t just a looker, either. Gwen was sweet and kind and just the kind of woman he could trust with his secrets. Dan had surprised himself in the plaza when he’d told her about his dad. That was a subject Dan didn’t like to talk about, and one which he never brought up. There were things beyond that he longed to tell her. Things that were very personal and he’d shared with few other people. Would she reject him if he told her the truth? His track record with other women in that regard hadn’t been exactly stellar.

    “Why Dan Holbrook, I thought that was you.”
    Gwen watched the color drain from Dan's face as the beautiful brunette approached.
    “Elena?” Dan said, barely choking out the word.
    Elena positioned her sunglasses on top of her head, revealing spectacular green eyes. “You’re a hard man to track down.”
    “I didn’t know you were looking,” Dan said, tension hedging his voice.
    “Maybe that's because you don’t pick up your phone.”
    Dan turned toward Gwen, his complexion flushed. “Oh Gwen, I’m sorry. This is Elena—”
    “Caldova,” the woman cut in, extending a suntanned arm in Gwen’s direction. “The ex.”
    Gwen swallowed hard past the lump in her throat and shook Elena’s hand. “Gwendolyn Marsh. Nice to meet you.”
    Elena studied Gwen’s face, then cast a judgmental glance at her bright turquoise cowgirl boots. “And you are…?”
    “She’s a client, Elena. Not that it’s any business of yours.”
    Gwen’s heart sank in her chest that she’d been introduced this way. But of course, what would she expect?
    Elena perused the expensive bottle of wine on the table. “Looks like business is good.”
    “It was better just a few moments ago,” Dan said, surprising Gwen with his acidic tone. He pushed back his chair and stood in a brusque fashion. “If you’ll excuse me a minute,” he told Gwen, laying aside his napkin.
    “Of course,” she said, her gut on fire.

    “All right, Elena,” Dan said, leveling her a hard look. “What’s this all about?”
    “The two of us, Dan. You and me. What else?”
    “You know as well as I do that the two of us are done.”
    “You didn’t think so last month in Albuquerque.”
    “I was wrong.”
    “That’s not what you said back at my apartment,” she said with a smirk.
    “Running into you at the airport couldn’t be helped. Agreeing to have drinks with you afterwards was a big mistake.” Dan had kicked himself a million times since. He’d scarcely put Nancy on the plane when he’d felt that familiar tug at his elbow. There Elena had stood, looking lovelier than ever but with a piteous pout on her lips. She’d just lost her cousin to cancer and had flown back from the funeral. There were so many memories, and she was so broken up. If only she could talk to an old friend, just for a while. Surely they were adult enough to still be friends?
    “Dan, I have something to tell you,” she said, a moist sheen coating her eyes.
    “Oh no you don’t, Elena. You’re not pulling that on me this time. I’ve had more than enough of your—”
    “It’s important,” she said, stopping him mid-rant.
    “Important, Elena? What is it this time? Another dead relative?”
    He’d learned later through a mutual