The Sometime Bride

account number for Southwest Express. Have your sister call this phone number and bill it to us. She can let them know where and when to pick up the packages.”
    “Well, thanks, that’s very gracious. That will help a lot.” Gwen couldn’t let him know that her wallet was paper-thin or that her sister was destitute.
    “I’ve actually already sent out a couple of emails, feelers, if you will, to gallery contacts who might have an interest in an East Coast ocean scene or two.”
    Gwen felt her face warm with excitement. “That’s wonderful!” She fought an urge to race around the desk and hug him.
    “As soon as the pieces arrive,” he continued, “I’ll start making follow-up calls. I’m hoping to have some serious buyers in looking by the end of the week. Assuming the shipment goes as planned.”
    Gwen sprang from her seat and lunged for his hand. “I don’t know how to thank you,” she said, taking his hand in hers and holding it firmly.
    His gaze wrapped around her, trapping her in his heat. “It’s my pleasure, really,” he said, exerting delicate pressure against her palm. Little tingles raced up Gwen’s arm, and instantly she knew she’d made a mistake. She’d told herself to keep her distance. Now, all she wanted to do was get closer still. Gwen released his grip, attempting to steady herself on wobbly knees. If merely shaking hands had this much effect, she’d hate to see the pool of putty she’d be in if he’d dared to kiss her.
    “Have you eaten anything since lunch?” he asked with concern.
    Gwen pulled herself together, realizing she must have suddenly paled. “I had some wine and cheese back at the inn.”
    “Havarti?” he asked, with uncanny insight.
    “How did you…?”
    He repressed a grin, pointing to the back of her head. Gwen ran panicked fingers through her hair, finding a nice little chunk of cheese caught up in her curls.
    She stared at him, mortified. “I’m so embarrassed,” she began.
    “Don’t be,” he offered kindly. “I get Camembert in mine all the time.”
    She scanned his face for the hint of a smile but couldn’t detect one beneath his deadpan.
    “This time, I know you’re teasing,” she said, and the moment between them lightened.
    Small lines tugged at the corners of his mouth as blue eyes crinkled. “Something tells me you’re getting to know me too well.” His gaze held a hint of longing mixed with caution. “Wine and cheese isn’t much of a dinner. I know a place with great steaks, if you’d like to join me?”
    Gwen knew she was wrong to say yes. Everything inside her screamed caution, slippery roads ahead . But all Gwen wanted to do was get in that spectacular sports car and drive.
    “I’d love to,” she said, accepting his invitation.

    Dan led them down a side street to an elegant outdoor restaurant set a few blocks from the plaza. The shaded pathway to its entrance bypassed the abutting Loretto Chapel, a notable nineteenth-century structure in Gothic Revival style, complete with buttresses and spires.
    “Have you been in there?” Dan asked as they strolled by the wind art adorning the chapel’s lawn.
    Gwen admired the huge hands of the whimsical brass structures cupping and turning in the breeze as the sun sank low. “Not yet.”
    Her view panned to a fanciful wood carving of a man guarding the chapel door.
    “Saint Joseph,” Dan said, indicating the statue. “I’ll tell you the story over dinner. You do believe in miracles?” He was smiling at her in a playful way.
    A shiver shimmied down Gwen’s spine, as she thought it was nothing short of miraculous that she was here, right now, with him. Dan Holbrook was not just a feast for the eyes, he was funny and kind and apparently enjoying her company. Plus, he made her feel beautiful. Not just because he’d said it. It was in the way he looked at her, all the time.
    “I’ll keep an open mind,” she said, smiling back at him.

    Dan shoved his hand in his pocket to prevent himself from reaching out and taking hers. In some ways, it would have seemed natural as he led her toward the maître d. In others, it was completely absurd! Dan heaved a sigh, grateful good sense had prevailed.
    “Are you all right?” she asked, chocolate-brown eyes imploring.
    “Just taking in the evening,” he said, thankful there was no wait for a table.
    He ordered them filet mignon with a mushroom, red pepper, and sherry reduction, Caesar salads to start, and a choice bottle of Chilean