Santa Fe Fortune & How to Marry a Matador

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    Characters in this book are fiction and figments of the author’s imagination.

    Edited by Linda Ingmanson
    Cover by Dar Albert

HOW TO MARRY A MATADOR

    Fernando sighed, worry lines creasing his brow. “You’re terribly angry with me, aren’t you?”
    “It takes two to tango, Fernando. I’m not saying all of this is your fault. I played a part in what happened yesterday too.”
    He turned toward her with a penetrating look. “That’s what I don’t understand. Why did you?”
    Jess felt a lurch of emotion as he dissected her with his earnest green gaze. “I…don’t know.”
    He leaned toward her with a husky whisper. “Oh, but I think you do.”
    He drew nearer, his mouth hovering over hers. Jess cursed herself for so badly wanting his kiss. His kisses had been so tantalizing last night, they’d made her lose all sense of reason. And it wasn’t just the way he’d held her. When he’d looked deep in her eyes and said that one thing, she’d inexplicably believed him as she had no man before.
    “Why did you?”
    Fernando reached out and cupped her chin in his hand. “Because, querida, when I saw you standing there in that garden, with that beautiful smile on your lips, I knew with a certainty that I’d have to claim them. That I wouldn’t rest until I made you mine.”
    “It was a simple sexual attraction.”
    “There was nothing simple about it,” he said, brushing his lips to hers.
    Jess closed her eyes as her heart stilled. She couldn’t let herself do this, but she couldn’t stop herself either. His masculine scent washed over her as she felt his palm press into the small of her back.
    “Jessica,” he said, resting his forehead on hers. “When I tell you the truth about this morning, I don’t want you to believe that anything last night was a lie.” And then to prove it, he kissed her deeply, with a skill and a passion that made her lose grip of her wine, sending the contents of her cup sloshing sideways.
    “Your sister’s riding pants,” she said, nearly breathless.
    “They’ll wash,” he said, tenderly stroking her thigh.
    “Fernando,” Jess gasped, pulling back. “We can’t.”
    He studied her a thoughtful moment as she gazed at him wide-eyed.
    “Then we won’t,” he said with a quick peck on her lips.
    She shivered involuntarily in spite of herself. This man had a way of completely undoing her.
    “We’ll have a little something to eat first.” He pulled several small bundles from his bag, along with a small knife and a cutting board.
    “While we talk?”
    “Of course,” he said, handing her a napkin for her slacks. “Then afterwards, I’ll let you decide.”
    “Decide what?”
    Fernando shot her a sexy grin as he refilled her wine.
    “Whether or not I’m the husband of your dreams.”

Chapter One

    Jess rolled over into a wall of steel. She opened her eyes, encountering a strong, masculine shoulder. Hoofbeats echoed outside to the sound of ándale, ándale, vámanos ! Her gaze panned the spread of his broad, olive chest, graced with charcoal hair matching the wavy array on his head. Impossibly perfect cheekbones offset a patrician nose. No Renaissance sculptor could have crafted a finer face. Jess’s mind whirled, recalling the evening of wild flamenco dancing and sangria. This slumbering specimen can’t be, but he is!
    She gingerly lifted the sheet and peered beneath it with a gasp.
    “Good morning, princesa ,” he said, emerald eyes upon her.
    Jess pinched the duvet to her chest, her face on fire. “Fernando.”
    He turned toward her, covers gaping. “I trust you slept well,” he said, trailing a finger down her arm. Little shivers raced up her spine, then plummeted in a dead heat toward her tailbone. He brought warm lips to her shoulder, gracing it with a kiss. “I also hope,” he said, his Spanish accent trilling, “you meant what you said last night.”
    Panic tore through her as she desperately tried to recall. Gracefully, he filled in the blank. “That you were happy to be my wife.” Wife? Did he just say wife?
    Fernando tenderly peeled back the duvet, admiring the curve of her hip beneath a satiny sheer nighty. His palm centered on the small of her back as he angled his ruggedly handsome face toward hers. “And you took pains to prove it,” he said in a husky rasp, pressing her lower region toward his vivid response.
    Jess pushed back with a