Read Santa Fe Fortune & How to Marry a Matador for Free Online

She’d have to hurry to catch the wine-and-cheese hour before the other guests cleaned out the Havarti.

    Dan paced the redwood-pine floors, double-checking the time on his BlackBerry. The afternoon couldn’t have dragged out more if he’d planned it. It all seemed to go in slow motion, as if he were deep-sea diving, arms and legs battling against ocean pressure.
    The occasional browsers stopped by, and there was the shipment to get out to Los Angeles, but Nancy’s assistant Megan had come in to see to that. She wore a nose piercing and a puckish haircut that added to her image of a small sprite sprinting around the gallery. Dan had never seen a twenty-three-year-old with so much energy. She was very astute though, her nimble mind eager to acquire anything and everything about gallery running. She hoped to manage a place of her own one day and apparently did some sort of printmaking on the side.
    “That’s it, then,” Megan said, peering up at him through heavily mascaraed eyes. “Think that I might sneak out early? I’ve got a date for drinks at Nines.” Nines was the hipster bar on an adobe rooftop overlooking the mountains.
    “Don’t let me hold you back,” Dan said.
    “Are you all right?” Megan asked. “You’ve seemed a little…off this afternoon. Maybe you should head out early too.”
    Dan was more than a little off; he was distractingly discombobulated. He’d spent over three hours poring through Nancy’s customary client list, trying to discern those who might be interested in Gwen’s work. If he’d had his head on straight, the task might have taken him forty-five minutes. Instead, he’d caught himself daydreaming at every turn, reliving his lively lunch with Ms. Gwendolyn Marsh. Just as in the gallery the day before, he’d been sucked in by the feminine scent of her. Didn’t help one iota that she obviously perfumed her legs, legs that were attached to one knock-out of a womanly body, teamed with a damnably adorable and kissable, he couldn’t help but reason, face. And, when her eyes sparked with delight at the thought that he might help her, could actually sell her canvases in this absurd ten-day timeframe, Dan’s heart had done an unexpected flip-flop.
    “I’m fine,” he lied to Megan. “Why don’t you go on ahead? I’ve got an artist stopping by at closing. I’ll lock up.”
    Megan grabbed her colorful straw bag that looked large enough to hold a weekend wardrobe and pranced out the door.
    Dan strode to the desk and withdrew Gwen’s contract from the nearby filing cabinet. He glanced through the folder for maybe the tenth time today, ensuring everything was in order. The paperwork was all lined up. Now all Dan had to do was steel his heart. He was getting far too carried away with this. Just because Gwen looked like an angel and spoke in a sweet Southern twang that was sexy as sin, that didn’t mean he’d have to give in to her. He was a rational man, by all accounts, savvy at business dealings and skilled at keeping his emotions in check.
    Okay, he’d made that one mistake. But it wasn’t like it was going to come back to haunt him. It had been more than a month now, and he’d heard nothing further about it. It had been a harsh lesson in letting sleeping dogs lie. Once you make a pact to move on, there should be no looking back. Looking ahead wasn’t sounding so safe at the moment either. Gwen was scheduled to be in town only ten days. She had her life back East to lead, and Dan had his own ghosts to contend with here. He shook off a gloomy feel, determined to make the best of their meeting. Dan was sensible enough to know he could assist a damsel in distress without falling into bed with her. And just to make certain he hadn’t forgotten, the fates had pressed a branding iron to his chest a mere six weeks ago to drive that message home.

    Gwen tugged at the zipper of her skirt, sliding it up her ample hip. She’d put on a few pounds since her divorce but still looked