Santa Fe Fortune & How to Marry a Matador

sophisticated Western entrepreneur like him want with a Carolina girl like her anyway? Apart from a quick good time, probably not a lot, and Gwendolyn Marsh was quite done with being somebody’s goodtime girl, thank you very much.
    Little lines pulled at the corners of his mouth, and she realized suddenly they were still both on the floor. “If you’ve got all you need, don’t you think we should…” He gave a thumbs-up, and she pushed back, standing awkwardly.
    Holbrook brushed off his trousers, the slight tugs showing off powerfully muscled thighs. Clearly not just a gallery owner, she thought, cheeks flaming as he caught her staring.
    A tense moment ensued as both appeared to forget where they were or what they were there for. As if to remind them, the California man loudly cleared his throat.
    “Just finishing up,” Dan told him. “Ms. Marsh,” he began, addressing her.
    “Gwen, please. I’d be happy if you called me Gwen.” She smoothed the wrinkles from her dress and straightened the neckline.
    “Gwen,” he said, offering up his first true smile since she’d arrived, and boy, was it a winner. If a heartbreaker contest existed in all of the Southwest, Gwen would bet on Holbrook to take the prize. “I’m afraid I’ve already taken up too much of your time.”
    Gwen spied the California couple circling closer like sharks, apparently having grown tired of waiting, and panic set in. What a terrible two days she’d had. First, her flight to Atlanta was delayed. Then, she’d missed her Albuquerque connection, causing her to miss her originally scheduled gallery appointment. To top it off, when she finally got a replacement flight, she’d chipped a nail stuffing her bulging carry-on into the overhead compartment.
    Making Santa Fe from the airport last night was easy. Finding the craftily concealed entity of Holbrook and Holstein on Canyon Road this morning proved more elusive. Even her GPS was miffed, telling her to make legal U-turns wherever possible, no matter that the prospect involved going round and round in the Vegan Market parking lot.
    Now, after making a wreck of this business call, she’d be leaving here having done no business at all. Not one sale to the gallery, despite her tumultuous flight and anxiety-producing encounter with Dan Holbrook.
    Gwen pulled herself up a little straighter and squared her small shoulders. She couldn’t leave New Mexico without getting what she came for. Too many people depended on her, and this was the one shot she had.
    “Maybe we can continue this conversation later?” she asked with a hopeful twist to her lips.
    “I was just about to suggest that.”
    “You were?” she asked with surprise.
    “Ms. Marsh…” He stopped himself. “Gwen… Do you really think Holbrook and Holstein would have had you come all this way if we didn’t have a genuine interest in your work?” Crinkles formed at the corners of his blue eyes, and Gwen’s heart soared.
    “But I thought you said the prices quoted to me in the email were…”
    “Everything in life is negotiable. Well, almost everything. Tell you what, why don’t you give me a few hours to put through a phone call to France, and I’ll see what I can do.”
    In an instant, Gwen retracted every uncharitable thought she’d had about him. When she’d first walked into the swanky, upscale warehouse and spied him double-checking the pricing on a large wall weaving, she’d imagined him incredibly stuck-up. Who wouldn’t be with that six-foot build and well-proportioned frame that spoke of power and unerring self-control? She’d pegged him as the rigid sort who never took no for an answer and considered his own words the final determinant. Now that he was showing a small sliver of humanity, she realized she might have misjudged him.
    “I’d love to talk again,” she said, meaning it sincerely. “When’s best for you?”
    “How about tomorrow at lunch? Will that work?”
    Ms. Holstein, his business partner, Gwen presumed, had proposed that Gwen make a little vacation out of her stay in Santa Fe while she was at it. Her sister Marian had thought it was a fine idea too. “Go for it, Gwen! Now’s your chance to finally get away!” What Marian didn’t know, and Gwen hadn’t been prepared to tell her, was that Gwen’s coming to Santa Fe had a whole lot to do with her.
    “I’m booked at the inn for ten days,” she said, smiling softly. “So, lunch tomorrow is fine.”
    Holbrook surprised her