Santa Fe Fortune & How to Marry a Matador

is hot,” she agreed.
    “I hope you found this place okay.”
    “Oh yes, just fine.” Warm brown eyes sparkled enticingly.
    “They’ve got some really great specials today. Have you taken a look?”
    Gwen turned over the menu in her hands, and he wondered again about that wedding band. How long had she been divorced, and why would she continue to wear it? Dan reminded himself that delving into Gwen’s personal affairs was none of his business.
    She surveyed the ample list of entrees. “Any recommendations?”
    “Depends on whether you like spicy.”
    She gave him a big, appealing grin. “I love spicy food. All kinds. But I’d love to try something particular to the region.” Why did she have to look so darned likable today? She really wasn’t cooperating in encouraging Dan to keep his distance.
    “Would you like me to order for us?” he asked, wanting to be helpful yet not wishing to overstep his bounds.
    “That would be nice. Thanks.” Gwen lowered her face to her menu to disguise a faint blush.
    Dan fought a swell of heat, surmising there wasn’t enough air in here. “Okay, be honest with me. Yes or no to avocado margaritas?”
    “You weren’t kidding, were you?” she asked with surprise.
    “I may be many things, but I’m not really much of a kidder.”
    She stared at him intently, trying to read him. Dan tried to repress a smile but felt his eyes crinkle just the same.
    “That was kidding, wasn’t it?” she asked, waving a scolding finger.
    He let loose a belly laugh, enjoying himself. “I’m afraid it was.”
    Gwen released a tiny puff of air, apparently relieved. “I’ll try an avocado margarita,” she answered, “but just one.”

    A little while later, Gwen took her first taste of the tantalizing southwestern treat. Finely pureed like a smoothie, it was silky, cool, and delicious. You couldn’t taste the tequila at all. Gwen was glad she’d made the advance decision to stick with one. Holbrook did too. He ordered them a delicious chicken poblano over Mexican rice, with a cold gazpacho soup to start. It was a perfect meal, and he had been right. After a couple of margaritas, their conversation flowed a lot more smoothly. For one thing, she learned that while his name was on it, he didn’t actually run the gallery. He was merely filling in this month for his older sister Nancy. His real work involved home building of some kind. It was a job he seemed to enjoy and which often kept him outdoors.
    “I insist that you call me Dan,” he said as their plates were cleared. “Mr. Holbrook hardly seems right with me calling you Gwen. You’re making me feel like an old man.”
    “Oh, I suspect you’re not that old,” she said, feeling as if she was flirting.
    He colored slightly around his open collar. “Thirty-nine next month. Practically over the hill.”
    He was dressed casually today, in khaki slacks and an azure polo shirt that complemented his eyes. The shirt fit him nicely, stretching evenly across his broad and muscled chest. Gwen found herself wondering what it would be like to press her hands against it, feel the strength and power there. Maybe that margarita was getting to her after all.
    “Well, I’m thirty-two, so not that far behind you.”
    He took a long, slow sip of his drink, surveying her over the rim of his glass. “Something tells me it will be some time before Ms. Gwendolyn Marsh makes it over that hill.”
    Now was he flirting with her? The way he studied her made Gwen think Dan had more than painting on his mind. She imagined removing his shirt and applying a deep massage oil, stroking the musculature there. Heat welled within her, sending electric currents from her fingertips to her toes. Gwen reminded herself to stay on track. Maybe the margarita was getting to him as well. Although that seemed difficult to believe, given his sturdy and scrumptious build. Oh dear, there she went again. It was a relief when Dan changed the subject by suggesting dessert. Anything to take her mind off further explorations of that come-hither chest.
    “It was a wonderful lunch, but I honestly don’t have room for more.”
    “Not even jalapeño custard pie?” Dan tempted. Gwen had the sense that Dan Holbrook could tempt even the most sensible woman into almost anything.
    “Maybe next time,” she said, combating a new rush of heat with a long drink of water, which, instead of hitting her lips, splashed in her lap. “Oh dear!” Gwen brought her palms to her cheeks