The Sometime Bride

Gwen had already arrived. He spied her seated at a table for two in the large atrium styled like a Spanish courtyard and decorated in colorful tile. She studied the menu as he approached, a white peasant blouse sweeping her shoulders, hair pinned up in a casual way that offset her cheekbones and fair complexion. Dan had to stop walking and catch his breath. She was truly a beautiful woman, even more beautiful than he’d given her credit for yesterday at the gallery. Then again, yesterday at the gallery, she’d appeared primed to bite his head off. Today, she just looked hungry.
    “Can I help you find a table, sir?” a tall waiter in a waistcoat inquired.
    “Thanks, I see where I’m going,” Dan said, shaking the reverie. Hearing their exchange, Gwen looked up at him and smiled. He felt a little twist in his gut and realized this was worse than he thought. Dan smiled back pleasantly, determined to pull himself together. He envisioned a large Weber grill, coals searing beneath its grate, and suddenly felt driven to thirst.
    He joined Gwen at the table, exchanged pleasantries, then took a long drag of water from the glass that had been provided at his place. She eyed him curiously as he drained it all.
    “It’s murder out there,” he said, referencing the weather.
    “Certainly 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