Santa Fe Fortune & How to Marry a Matador

with plates and fruits and cheeses. Perhaps she’d grown hungry or faint, Dan thought hopefully. Gwen’s gaze homed in on the Texas twosome standing nearby with replenished wines, and Dan changed his mind. He didn’t know what Gwen was up to, but the way she clip-clopped purposely across the room told him no good.
    He frantically scanned the gallery for Megan and gratefully caught her eye. Dan held up his BlackBerry and motioned moving forward with the other hand, telling Megan to speed up the time line. She raised her finger in understanding and quickly set to the task. But even Megan’s keen mental abilities and efficiency weren’t enough. Dan hustled to the small table where Gwen was heaping mounds of food upon a flimsy plate. “I insist,” she said to Emily with a broad grin that appeared slightly manic.
    “Not so much cheese,” the Texan protested. “I’m watching my waistline.”
    Gwen arched both eyebrows and momentarily stopped heaping. “Oh, are you really? That’s too bad.” She smiled sweetly at the statuesque Victoria, who’d already fixed herself a healthy plate. “Let’s take some tips from your sister, then. Shall we? The Southwestern Ranch dressing on celery sticks is to die for!”
    Dan grimaced at Megan, who hustled over as Gwen dropped spoonful after spoonful of creamy, white dressing onto the overloaded plate.
    “That’s really quite enough,” Emily protested as Megan cut in.
    “Mr. Holbrook,!” Megan said, holding up the house phone.
    The group angled toward Megan, startled by the distraction.
    “Oh dear!” Gwen cried, tipping the unsteady plate in Emily’s direction. Emily looked down in horror as streams of Ranch dressing raced down her dress.
    “It’s designer!” she shrieked, grabbing for napkins.
    Dan handed her some more to help. “So sorry!”
    “I feel so stupid,” Gwen said. “I don’t know how that happened!”
    “The gallery will pay for dry cleaning,” Dan offered to Emily.
    “Thanks,” she said, still mopping herself up. “Let me hit the restroom and see what I can do.”
    Dan directed his gaze at Megan, wanting to somehow salvage this evening. It was the first time he’d ever seen the young girl look flustered. He hoped she’d still be able to pull this off. Things surely weren’t looking good in the selling-to-Texas department.
    “Mr. Holbrook,” she uttered weakly, still holding up the phone. “The gentleman who was in earlier today wants to put in a bid on the Marsh series.”
    “All five?” Gwen asked, elated.
    “That’s quite a lot,” Victoria added.
    “He’s willing to pay top dollar,” Megan said. “Four thousand a piece.”
    “Four thousand!” Victoria exclaimed. “But each is only marked at three-five.”
    “Plus gallery commission,” Megan added, as if reciting from memory.
    “What’s that?” Victoria inquired of Dan.
    “Twenty percent. Another four thousand dollars.” Dan smiled pleasantly all around. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said to the group. “I think I’d better take this call.”
    “Wait!” Victoria said, blinking hard. “I’d like a chance to make an offer as well.”
    “Would you?” Dan asked, stunned as Emily returned still a royal mess.
    “What’s going on?” Emily asked.
    “Somebody’s trying to outbid me,” Victoria said, as if it had never happened before.
    “No! We’ve already been online and scoped out new swags and fabrics for the rooms.”
    “Yes. Ones that will complement this theme exactly,” Victoria added.
    “Gwen?” Dan asked, turning to her.
    “Well, it seems to me if we have such a spectacular offer… Four thousand a piece, plus the gallery commission…”
    “I’ll match that!” Victoria cut in. “In cash!”
    “Cash?” Dan asked with surprise.
    “The banks open for a few hours in the morning. I can get a cashier’s check or make a wire transfer.”
    Gwen’s lovely face lit up like a thousand fireworks on the Fourth of July. She turned eagerly toward Dan and nodded with a heartwarming grin.
    “We’ll take it,” Dan said, shaking Victoria’s hand.

    Megan handed Gwen a cup of coffee with a smile. “Creamer and sugar, two packs.”
    Gwen flushed with embarrassment, thinking of the display she’d put on. She hadn’t precisely been drunk, but she’d clearly been tipsy. What else would excuse her utter assault on Emily’s wardrobe, designer or not? “I feel like I should be helping you,” she told Dan as he carted empty wine bottles to the