The Sometime Bride

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 lunch was nearly over and they’d not yet talked turkey.
    “Some people have more natural talent than others,” she said kindly.
    “Like you do for painting, for instance,” he said, turning the conversation in what Gwen hoped would be the right direction.
    “I appreciate you thinking so,” she said, feeling her heart warm. “I really enjoy what I do. The thought that it might also bring happiness to someone else is just wonderful.”
    “When did you start painting again?”
    “Oh, I did it off and on. Just for me, you know. Could never entirely let it go over the years. Then on my thirtieth birthday, my little sister, Marian, gave me the most beautiful gift, a completely new set of oils and brushes. I’d been getting by with old things, mostly cast-offs from the school art teacher who’d been sympathetic to my cause.”
    “Marian must know you very well.”
    “We’re super close,” Gwen said, feeling the burn in her throat. “The gift was extra special because oils are expensive, and Marian… Well, she…she doesn’t have a lot of money.”
    “So that’s when it really started? When you began painting more regularly?”
    Gwen nodded, willing away the unpleasant memory of Robert coming in and upending her very first seascape. “Ridiculous,” he’d said. “Where do you think you’ll get with that? You sure as hell can’t sing. What makes you think you can paint?”
    Gwen blinked, briefly turning away. When she turned back to Dan, she found herself caught up in his sky-blue gaze. The way he looked at her was soothing, as if he had all the time in the world to listen to what she had to say, and like none of it was ridiculous.
    “I did start painting more then, yes. It was easier without the resistance.”
    “Resistance?”
    “That doesn’t really matter anymore,” she said, forcing a smile. “I found a way to move beyond it.”
    “And the clients at Holbrook and Holstein will be glad. I assure you.”
    “I’m glad you brought that up so I didn’t have to.”
    He looked at her earnestly. “Gwen, I’ve had a great time at lunch with you, really I have. But I have no illusions about why a beautiful young woman like you would spend time with a washed-up old bachelor like me.”
    Gwen blushed at the compliment but wasn’t about to let herself get derailed by his manly attentions. As long as he’d started the ball rolling, she needed to push it along. “You underestimate yourself, Dan. But it’s good to know you’ve reconsidered underestimating my work.”
    His gaze filled with admiration. She was being a little saucy, and he apparently liked it. “I spoke with Nancy like I promised. Holbrook and Holstein is prepared to set a fair price for your art. We can’t quite go up to four thousand, but if you’re willing to agree to three-five, we think we can cut a deal.”
    The way he’d said that made it almost seem real, as if this was actually going to happen for her. Gwen tried to contain her excitement. “Excellent,” she said, giving him what she hoped was a warm, even smile. “I’m open to discussing that.”
    “Of course, I’m sure you’re familiar with how things work,” he