Santa Fe Fortune & How to Marry a Matador

as Dan sprang from his chair.
    “Take mine,” he said, pressing his cloth napkin to her skirt. Suddenly, his warmth spread through her nether regions. She gasped, and he glanced up, their eyes locking.
    “I’ll get it, thanks,” she stammered as he pulled his napkin aside, and she took to the task with hers, promptly dropping her napkin on the floor. “My goodness.”
    Dan scooped low to retrieve the soggy rag. He hesitated briefly to study her dangling ankle bracelet, then righted himself slowly, his sky-blue gaze grazing hers.
    Dan reddened as he handed Gwen back her napkin. “I’ll call the waiter over and ask for more.”
    “Don’t bother,” she said sweetly. “I think that’s got it.”
    Gwen couldn’t believe what a klutz she’d been. What was it about this man that made her all butterfingered? Okay, the truth was Marian had sometimes accused her of being a teensy bit clumsy, but she’d never been an out-and-out wrecking ball like this. It was probably a combination of things. Her mission for money complicated by Dan’s inexcusable hotness. She found herself wishing briefly that his sister Nancy had been here to meet with her instead. A split-second later, she realized that was a lie.
    The hard fact was Gwen was attracted to Dan. Seriously attracted. And perhaps he’d given indications that he was the slightest bit interested in her as well. But what was wrong with that? Colleagues could enjoy a simple flirtation, for heaven’s sake. Gwen was sure it happened all the time. That certainly didn’t mean it had to go anywhere. Gwen hadn’t come to Santa Fe to find a man. She’d come to launch her art career and help her sister. Over time, she’d also be helping herself. After a while, she could do less and less of her day job and more of what gave her pleasure and caused her spirit to soar.

    “You know,” Dan said as coffee arrived for the two of them. “I’ve gone on at length about my work, and you haven’t really talked about yours. Have you been painting long?”
    “I did a bit in high school, but then sort of let it go.”
    “How’s that?” he asked.
    “When I started applying to colleges, my mom encouraged me to pursue something a bit more practical.” She shrugged, resigned. “She may have had a point. I’m not sure what sort of job I might have gotten as an art major. I couldn’t imagine teaching something I loved so much and found so personal. I’m afraid it would have taken the passion out of it for me. So I decided to finish in music instead.”
    “Music?” he asked with surprise. “Are you talented?”
    “Not in the least,” she said with a laugh. “In fact, do you know that expression?”
    Dan grinned. “Those who can, do; those who can’t, teach?”
    “Precisely. I can’t carry a tune in a bucket, and I’m impossibly inept on the keyboard.”
    Dan leaned forward on his elbows. “Then how…?”
    “Oh, I have a great ear for things. I mean, when someone else is doing the playing, I can pluck the mistakes right out. Not that I’m hard on my students. I’m really a very encouraging teacher.” And she was too. The children appeared to love her, and their parents praised her abilities. Gwen was just thankful that none of them had borne witness to her botchery of university piano recitals. It was a blessing that she could graduate in teaching without having to prove her own exceptional skill.
    Dan gave a delighted chuckle. “What grades do you teach?”
    “Elementary during the school year. In the summertime, I take private piano students on, all ages up to adults.”
    “So you could teach me?” he asked invitingly. Uh-oh, there he went, flirting again. Gwen doubted very seriously that she could teach the dangerously capable Dan Holbrook anything. At thirty-eight, he was bound to have seen a bit of the world and more than his share of women. Gwen reminded herself not to be foolishly flattered by his probably practiced attentions.
    “I’m not sure about that. Something tells me you might not be the most cooperative student.”
    Dan raised his brows in surprise, then released another belly laugh. “You’ve probably got me there. Nancy tried to teach me ‘Chopsticks’ once when I was ten, and I never quite got through it.”
    Gwen couldn’t help but soften at his self-effacing honesty. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to start liking the man, and that might cloud her judgment in any business dealings. She finished her coffee, realizing