How to Marry a Matador (Exclusive Sneak Preview) (3 page)

“I’m a Taurus, if it matters.”

“I might have guessed.”

“What’s that’s supposed to mean?”

“The Taurus and the toreador? And you tell me
there’s no fate?”

She set her jaw, her eyes boring into his.
“Fernando Garcia de la Vega, I want you to show me to an Internet
connection this minute!”

“That might be a bit complicated. You see,
out here
en el campo
, we have limited…” His voice fell off
as he took in her increasingly enraged form. It was one thing to
lightheartedly provoke someone. But at this very moment, Fernando
sensed he was putting himself in mortal danger. “Okay, all right,”
he said, flagging a hand in her direction. “I can see when I’m not
wanted.”

His expression took a downcast turn that
almost made her feel sorry for him. The truth was, Jess had wanted
him,
wanted him in the worst way
, which was precisely what
had gotten her into this mess! She pulled her cell from her purse
and checked it for the tenth time this morning. She still wasn’t
picking up service. Just how far from civilization were they?

Fernando gestured grandly toward the door
that led downstairs. He unlocked it, then held it open. “Fair’s
fair, Jessica. After all, no one’s holding you prisoner in an ivory
tower. So, here’s what we’ll do. You and I will have a civilized
talk about everything that happened last night. Then, if you’re
still determined to get out of this marriage, I won’t stop you. I’m
far too proud a man to hold a woman against her will.”

Jess’s heart skipped a beat as something raw
and unanticipated burned inside her. She couldn’t say whether it
was relief she felt or something more akin to disappointment. Why,
oh why did his admission that he was fine in letting her go
resonate with something so utterly painful in her core?

Jess shook off the odd déjà vu and met his
gaze, his green eyes playing the soft serenade of a Spanish guitar.
Jess caught her breath, lost for a moment in their music.

“I also believe,” he said slowly, “that
sometimes things happen for a reason. And often that reason is far
too grand for us to originally understand.”

But Jess didn’t want to think about reasons
or fate or star-crossed lovers—or any of that other nonsense Evie
so ardently believed in but that she’d never been able to wrap her
own head around. Jess was a practical person who saw the world for
what it was. The fact that she’d long ago stopped believing in
fairy tales had only worked to her benefit.

“The only thing I need to understand,” she
said, “is why you persist in saying this…accident of nature…was
somehow preordained. “

He massaged his temples, apparently growing
exasperated. “I already said I’ll explain everything.”

“Good,” she said, stepping past him. “At
last, you’re talking sensibly.”

Jess hurried down the stairs, desperate to
get away. He smelled of sandalwood soap and lime, and the aroma
awakened her memory of his showering kisses last night. The sooner
she got herself out of this mistake of an arrangement, the better.
And it better be before nightfall, lest she find herself tempted to
leap back into that manly matador’s bed.

“I’ve never been accused of being
unreasonable,” he said, trailing after her. “But I am known for
keeping my commitments.”

Jess halted in her tracks, fearing this was
going somewhere. Somewhere that was going to land dangerously close
to further confounding her emotions.

He captured her in his gaze, stilling her
heart for a fraction of a second. Somehow, when he looked at her,
it was as if he could see into her depths and behold her every
weakness. And yet, his gaze soothed her, smoothing old hurts in
tender ways. Warmth surged in her cheeks as he descended the steps
two at a time, then gently cupped her face in his hands.

“And I
always
honor my commitments,”
he said, his voice a husky rasp.

Her pulse beat wildly, and for a second, she
feared he would kiss her. Next, she was terribly afraid he might
not.

“Most especially,” he continued with an
enigmatic smile, “to my mother.”

****

Jess couldn’t believe she was having lunch
with Fernando’s mother. Everything was totally out of control.
Señora Garcia de la Vega took a slow sip of wine, surveying the
American seated before her. “Tell me again, dear,” she asked, the
sweetness of her tone slightly acerbic, “how is it that you know my
Fernando?”

Fernando dabbed his mouth with a napkin, then
set the cloth aside. “We met in Madrid
.
I explained the
whole thing to you this morning.”

“Perhaps,” his mother said with a tilt of her
chin. “But I’d like to hear the story from the young lady
herself.”

That would be great, if only Jess could
recall the tale she was supposed to tell. She had no clue what
Fernando had said to his mother earlier. All she knew was that
Fernando had asked her to
“play along with things at lunch.”
He promised her an Internet connection later, along with a cell
signal in range so she could call Evie. Boy, would Evie have a
field day with this. She was forever on Jess’s case for being too
stringent and unerring. Eve was the carefree one who made mistakes.
Now, here Jess sat in the middle of some matador’s ranch—and the
global communications magnate didn’t even have Wi-Fi! Things were
positively prehistoric in La Esperanza del Corazón, and Jess had
the feeling she was dining with a carnivore.

Mrs. Garcia de la Vega’s deep brown eyes
settled on hers as she carefully spooned cold gazpacho soup to her
lips. Fernando’s mother had to be in her late fifties but was
beautiful still, fine wisps of gray just making themselves visible
in her coiled-up hair.

Fernando reached across the table and
squeezed Jess’s hand, lending encouragement. “Just tell her how we
met,
querida.
All the business deals and such.” He lifted
her hand to give the back of it a firm kiss, and Jess’s resolve
wilted. She was not seriously interested in Fernando in the least.
They had chemistry—nothing more. And she resented the trappings of
this little charade confusing her.

Jess withdrew her hand from his grip and
massaged it with the one in her lap. “Yes, that’s right,” she
politely told Mrs. Garcia de la Vega. “It was business. All
business. Strictly business from the start.” She shot Fernando a
stern look to remind him their business here was nearly done.

“And your business is…?” the older woman
prompted.

“Telecommunications, just like mine,”
Fernando interjected.

“The young woman speaks just fine for
herself,” his mother quipped, annoyed.

Jess uncrossed her legs under the table and
sat up a little straighter in her chair. “The name of my firm is
Global Financial Telecom. We’re headquartered in New York, and I’m
in charge of international acquisitions.”

“Like my son, for example,”
Señora Garcia de la Vega said
flatly.

A breeze ruffled across the tabletop, sending
the fresh-flower centerpiece fluttering. While Jess normally loved
dining outdoors, the chill hovering above them on this balmy
afternoon was unmistakable.

“I came here on an acquisitions merger, it’s
true.
Involving your
son’s
company
, Señora
Garcia de la Vega.
Fernando knew about… What I mean is, this
was all arranged in advance. There were no surprises.”

“Except for one,” Fernando added with a
wink.

A tension in her gut told her she was about
to get broadsided. “Which one was that?”

“Why, you know, my love. That little
unexpected package.”

Jess felt the blood drain from her face.
“Package?”

“Special delivery,
mi amor.
Our bundle
of joy.” Fernando scooted his chair against hers so he could drape
his arm around her shoulder. “Mamá,” he said, addressing his mother
sincerely. “Jessica and I have known each other for months now.
I’ve come to respect her not just as a business colleague but as a
woman as well. A beautiful, sensuous woman that any man would be
proud to call his—”

“Is there a restroom downstairs?” Jess asked,
abruptly pushing back from the table and breaking Fernando’s
embrace. She stood unsteadily, glancing helplessly about the patio.
Oddly, she felt more trapped in this beautifully arranged open
space than in any cage.

“Past the kitchen,” Mrs. Garcia de la Vega
stated, her quizzical gaze on her son.

Fernando shrugged at his mom as Jess stood
from her chair. “It’s the baby.”

“
Baby?
” The joint chorus was so loud
neither Jess nor Mrs. Garcia de la Vega could be sure whose shriek
registered the loudest.

Jess stared at Fernando and blinked hard, her
wobbling knees forcing her back in her chair. “
That’s too high a
telecommunications price tag,
” she hissed under her breath.

“
Consuelo!”
Señora Garcia de la Vega cried
desperately toward the house. “More water, please!”

Jess didn’t know what game Fernando was
playing, but she refused to be party to it. “Excuse me,” she said,
gathering her strength and standing again. “Mrs. Garcia de la Vega,
thanks for a lovely meal, but it’s time I head back to Madrid.”

“Madrid?” Fernando and his mother parroted
together.

“Yes, Fernando. Madrid. That’s where I have
an apartment—with an included Internet connection.”

Mrs. Garcia de la Vega set aside her empty
water glass. “We have an Internet connection.”

Jess raised an accusatory eyebrow at
Fernando. “Here?”

“Naturally,” his mother continued. “Premium
satellite. What else would you expect?”

What else would she expect, indeed? Nothing
more than Fernando’s continued conniving. The man didn’t have an
honest bone in his body!

“But Jessica,” he began, pleading, “our
arrangements. You and I should talk…alone.”

“I think that’s a very good idea,” his mother
said grimly. “This situation sounds serious. It is not one you
settle in haste.”

Fernando stood with a gallant air and took
Jessica by the elbow. “This way,
querida
. We wouldn’t want a
woman in your condition taxing her nerves.” Then he called back
over his shoulder, “I’ll see to it she calms down, Mamá.”

As viciously as she could, Jess stomped her
three-inch heel into Fernando’s loafer.

“
Ouch!”

“
Son?”
Mrs. Garcia de la Vega inquired as they
slipped out the door.

“It’s nothing. I just felt a sudden…twinge,”
he said, leading Jess from the room.

“Of guilt, I hope,” Jess spewed under her
breath.

“All right, Fernando,” Jess whispered as
Consuelo whisked by them, carting a chilled bottle of water. “What
precisely was going on in there?”

Fernando raked his fingers through his hair,
then addressed her with a strained expression. “The truth?”

“That would be a nice start.”

“Okay, I’ll tell you, but not here.”

“Not here? Then where?”

Consuelo passed back by them, and Fernando
called after her. “Consuelo, if you please, ask Don Pedrito to
saddle up two horses.”

Jess stared at him aghast. “First I’m
pregnant; next I’m riding?”

“My mother rode until she was full term.”

“Oh! That’s what happened to you! Too many
prenatal bumps to the noggin!”

“You
can
ride?” he asked.

She set her hand on her hip. “I was raised in
a saddle.”

“That settles it.”

“
Gracias
, Consuelo,” he said to the
housekeeper, who studied them agape. Consuelo backed away, clearly
not wanting to miss one moment of the action.

“What’s all the shouting about?”
Señora Garcia de la Vega called from
outside.

Fernando pressed his palms together in a
prayer position. “Please, dear Jessica, I’m begging you—for only a
few more hours of your time. The rest of your life…whatever you opt
to do with the information…those choices are yours.”

Mrs. Garcia de la Vega stood in her spacious
kitchen sternly appraising her son. “Are you sure you should take a
woman in her condition riding? She’s an American, you know, on the
soft side.”

“She’s as healthy as a horse
.
Kickboxes, even. I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

“Kicks boxes, eh?” his mother asked. “And
then what will she beat up next? Your heart, more than likely.”

“No, Mamá, you misunderstand. It’s an
exercise.”

His mother frowned, fine lines creasing her
brow.

“Well, I hope she leaves kicking behind once
she’s a mother. It doesn’t sound dignified and surely won’t prove
any sort of example—”

He fondly patted his mother’s cheek. “I’ll
put her on Valencia, okay? She’s as gentle as a lamb, and too old
to trot too fast.”

“We need to talk about this, Fernando. In
detail.”

“I know,” he said, briefly holding her gaze,
“but not yet.”

“This has all happened so quickly. I didn’t
even know you were dating!”

“We more or less skipped over that part.”

Señora Garcia de la Vega inhaled a sharp
breath and narrowed her gaze. “Does this have something to do with
your birthday?” She leaned into the center island as Fernando
packed libations for his trip. Some noncarbonated water and a
bottle of a regional Rioja. Almost as an afterthought, he tucked a
wedge of Manchego cheese and a small hard roll in his satchel.

“I’m sorry,” he asked blithely, “did you say
something?”

She stood with her arms akimbo, lording over
her kitchen. The moment Consuelo had sensed the ensuing fireworks,
she’d made herself scarce.

Señora Garcia de la Vega disapprovingly shook
her head. “You’re forgetting the almonds. And, oh yes, the
olives.”