Santa Fe Fortune (12 page)

It had been a wonderful week, but already she felt as if her heart was breaking. If she got in even deeper, Gwen didn’t know how she’d extract herself. It had taken her nearly three years to get over Robert, and toward the end, she hadn’t even cared for him! What sort of shape would she be in after finally finding the right man but at the wrong place and time? Gwen sucked in a breath, knowing she had to be strong. She had goals to achieve for herself and was on a serious mission to help her sister. If the canvas sales went well, perhaps there’d be more trips to Santa Fe and other opportunities to see…

Gwen folded her face in her hands as sobs escaped her. Who was she fooling with this? Did she really believe that would be good for her? Having an occasional long-distance romance with a man who was sure to forget her once she was out of sight and probably out of mind? She knew he meant well now. Dan was gorgeous and generous and kind. He was certain to have other women after him. As much as Gwen believed he really liked her, she had to face facts. She was a big girl and old enough to understand she probably wasn’t unique.

Gwen dried her eyes and lifted a magazine from the coffee table before her.
Santa
Fean
magazine sat atop the large stack of local brochures and flyers left as a compliment in her guest room. She flipped through its pages, trying to distract herself from her crumbling emotions. Suddenly, he was right there in front of her. It was a picture of Dan by his horse on Paradise Ranch. “Best Billionaire Bachelor Catch in the West?” Gwen said. Rich? Dan was rich? She sat for a moment and absorbed this, the bitter truth sinking in. Instead of making things better, that somehow made them worse. The fact that Dan was wealthy only made him more generally appealing. She scanned through the quotes from local women talking about what a great guy Dan Holbrook was, and how every single gal within a hundred-mile radius was eager to date him. The women interviewed were doctors…lawyers…successful businesswomen. Gwen swallowed hard, knowing she couldn’t compete. She was a stone-broke music teacher who couldn’t even sing.

She read through the story about Dan’s charity work with disabled children, her heart brimming with sorrow. He was an even more wonderful person than she’d imagined. There he was, someone who’d suffered privately in his past, and he’d turned the situation around so he could give back to others in spite of it. Gwen felt privileged to have known Dan in a more intimate way than any of the interviewed ladies had, but was equally devastated by what she saw as clear fact. She wasn’t meant for Dan’s future. With all the women in the state to choose from, why would he accept the complications of falling for someone living two thousand miles away? No wonder Elena had regretted their relationship ending. She obviously wanted Dan back and had tracked him down to tell him so. How many others out there were waiting in the wings, hoping to do the same?

Red flags went skittering up the pole, telling Gwen to guard her heart and step back. As memorable as her times with Dan had been, there could be no more like them. They’d made some picture-perfect memories in Santa Fe and shared an unforgettable, romantic getaway to Taos. That mental photo album would be Gwen’s only keepsake of her relationship with the “Best Billionaire Catch in the West.” She needed to prepare herself for that reality.

When Gwen arrived at the gallery, it had been transformed into a magical fairy realm, the parameters of its rooms strung with tiny, decorative lights. A side table held wineglasses and bottles, some of them chilling in buckets of ice. Platters of various cheeses and fruits were arranged strategically throughout, inviting guests to pause before particular works of art and graze while browsing. A selection of classical music played discreetly in the background, and fresh flowers were everywhere. Gwen made her way through the milling crowd, past clinking glasses, low chatter and laughter. A huddle of shoppers stood in the back gallery admiring Gwen’s work and exchanging pleasantries about the powerful presentation, perspective, and use of color. Dan was nowhere in sight.

Gwen spied Megan with a small group near the pottery and went to thank her for the beautiful arrangements. Megan saw her coming and gracefully opened the small semicircle of patrons to include Gwen. “How great to see you!” she said, smiling first at her and then the others. “This is the super new talent I’ve been telling you folks about,” she said to the others. “Ms. Gwendolyn Marsh.”

Gwen willed away a blush, striving to appear professional. Yet when she spoke, she felt her voice tremble and her face grow hot. “Megan’s very good at PR,” she bantered cheerily.

The guests chuckled lightly; then each extended a hand, introducing themselves in turn. They had questions for her about her work, how long she’d been at it, and where she found her inspiration. It took her a while to answer them all, since each answer regarding inspiration was specific to a particular painting. Megan brought her a glass of wine and a small plate of food, and Gwen thanked her with a gracious smile, feeling her tensions ease. Speaking with these people wasn’t nearly as intimidating as she’d thought. Everyone was so nice and appeared genuinely interested. Even those who might not have appreciated her particular style were far too polite to say so. The fact was this was a crowd that was interested in art, and that commonality bound them together, despite the fact that the bank balances of the browsers in here were sure to outnumber hers a hundred to one. The men were casually well dressed and the woman fixed nicely without looking overdone. Gwen glanced down at her flirty earth-toned dress and boots, hoping she’d chosen right. A whisper in her ear confirmed it.

“You look dynamite,” Dan said, stepping up behind her.

A current rippled down Gwen’s spine as heat centered in her belly. He was incredibly handsome in a sports coat overlaying a deep-blue polo. She turned toward him with surprise and suddenly felt light-headed. Was it him or those first two glasses of wine back at the inn? She scolded herself for
pregaming
, when the occasion was important as this one. At least she’d taken care to triple-check her hair for Havarti. “Dan! I didn’t see you when I came in.”

Dan had certainly seen her. He’d spied her the moment he’d stepped around the corner. She’d been captivating the group with her soft smile and subtle Southern accent. Dan noted a few of the men eyeing Gwen a tad too appreciatively and flashed hot at his nape. He was silly to feel jealous. She was a beautiful woman. It would be impossible for other men not to notice. Dan silently cursed himself for insisting she wear those sexy-as-all-get-out boots, then realized he was being absurd. He didn’t have any sort of claim on Gwen. For some reason, that admission made him unhappy.

“I was just in the back gallery,” he said. “There are a couple of folks in there dying to meet you, if you can pull yourself away?” He raised his brow at Megan, who picked up right away on his lead.

“Right. Ms. Marsh, why don’t you run on ahead? I’m sure these good people will excuse you.” Gwen said her good-byes to them, and they thanked for her time, saying what a pleasure it had been to speak with her. Dan noted she was exceptionally bubbly tonight, charming them all with her natural effervescence.

“They were nice,” she said to Dan, her cheeks flushed with color. She really did look amazing. No wonder none of the guys in here could take their eyes off her.

“People always love talking to real, live artists,” he said with a grin.

“As opposed to real, dead ones?” she asked pertly, pretty blonde curls playing about her face.

Dan repressed a smile, thinking she was being awfully plucky for someone who’d never worked a room like this one before.

Big brown eyes flashed up at him with innocence. “What? I understand that many artists are famous posthumously.”

 
“Let’s hope you don’t fit into that category any time soon.”

“Famous?”

“Posthumous.”

Dan escorted her toward the back gallery, wishing she’d stop looking so damn cute and flirty. He found it almost aggravating of her to exercise her winsome wit besides. He was already growing agitated at the thought of her leaving. The overabundance of appreciative male gazes only made things worse. That signaled Gwen would have no trouble easily getting another guy. Dan paused, allowing Gwen to pass into the large anterior room ahead of him. She sashayed through the threshold with a sway to her hips and clomping cowgirl boots. Dan withdrew a hanky and dabbed the back of his neck, thinking someone had turned up the heat in here. That someone being Ms. Gwendolyn Marsh!

Gwen entered the anterior gallery and paused, clasping her hands to her chest. Her oils were skillfully hung on the walls and in a perfect arrangement. They looked so good it was almost hard to imagine they were hers and she was the featured artist!

Two tanned blondes turned from their study of her work, pivoting toward her on spiky heels. She recognized them at once as the pair from Canyon Road and the women she’d seen flirting with Dan through the window. Both held empty wineglasses and looked of the ilk that could hold their liquor.

“You must be the artist,” the taller one said, exuding haute sophistication. “We’ve just been admiring your work.” She extended her hand. “Victoria Kent. So pleased to meet you.”

“You too.” Gwen reached toward her, toppling slightly. Dan shot her a curious gaze as she drew in a breath and pulled herself up straighter.

“And this is my sister, Emily,” Victoria said, introducing a shorter version of herself who ran about ten pounds heavier.

“Good to finally meet the infamous Gwendolyn Marsh,” the other said. “Dan hasn’t stopped talking about you.” She looked Gwen up and down, then suggestively scanned Dan. “You must have made quite an impression on him.”

Gwen felt her temples and cheekbones warm, sensing she’d been accused of something. She returned the woman’s gaze with combative caution. She hadn’t cared for Emily’s approach but understood circumstances dictated civility. “I’d like to think Dan understands art.”

“That I do,” he said, graciously stepping in. “In fact, the moment I saw Gwen’s oils, I said to myself, these works won’t last long on the market.” He smiled pleasantly at Gwen. “I’m happy to say my assessment was correct. We have a very interested buyer coming by at nine thirty.”

Victoria flushed, perplexed. “But I thought you told me that these were available?”

“They are,” Dan answered evenly. “No one has made a final offer yet.”

“I see.” Victoria exchanged glances with her sister. “If you’ll excuse us for a few minutes. We’d like to talk something over.”

“Of course,” Dan said as the women retreated around the corner.

Emily lingered behind her sister, sending Dan a slow, sultry perusal as she went. Gwen felt her skin burn hot. This was just the sort of thing that was destined to happen, over and over again, the moment she left town. “I think that Emily’s more interested in the gallery owner than my art.”

Dan released a surprised laugh. “What? Are you kidding me?”

“Come on Dan, you can’t pretend you didn’t see her give you that once-over?”

“You’re besmirching the good name of a happily married woman.” Little lines tugged at the edges of his mouth as blue eyes crinkled. “Besides, I’m not even the gallery owner. But only you know that,” he closed with a wink.

He was an impossibly maddening man. More maddening than Gwen had given him credit for. Either he was totally obtuse to attractive women hitting on him, or he was trying to deflect the situation by making light of it. “I don’t think it’s your artistic assets she’s interested in.”

“Whoa! Hold the phone. You couldn’t possibly be…?”

She crossed her arms in front of herself, that beautiful mouth drawing up into a pout.

“What?” she asked, with defiant dark eyes.

 
He couldn’t believe it, but it was true. “Jealous,” he said in a whisper. “Oh…my…God!” Dan slapped his forehead for emphasis, then lowered his voice. “I can’t believe it. You’re actually jealous of her…?”

“No, Dan,” she spouted in hushed tones. “I’m not jealous. I just don’t appreciate her flouncing in here like this were some sort of club instead of a real business establishment. She nearly devoured you with her eyes, for heaven’s sake! ‘Mrs. I Come from Texas but Want a Big Night with a Big Man in the Big Town’!”

“Santa Fe’s not that big.”

“Oh, stop it,” she said, losing patience. A sheen overtook her eyes, and Dan suddenly feared he’d pushed her too far with his teasing. “All you can do is make fun…”

Gwen turned away and set her chin to keep her jaw from trembling. She was on the verge of breaking down into a cascading waterfall of tears. How exactly professional was that? What was she thinking anyway? Of course Emily had ogled Dan. What woman in her right mind wouldn’t? Although Gwen would certainly thank them to keep their overt appraisals slightly more discreet. Emily had looked Dan over like a juicy tenderloin steak fresh from the fire. She’d even licked her lips, for heaven’s sake. Like she could practically taste him! Gwen squared her small shoulders, devising her plan. If the woman didn’t have enough to eat, Gwen would help her. “I’ll be right back,” she told Dan, striding past him and into the next room.

Dan followed Gwen into the open space, concerned by the look on her face. He’d seen those gorgeous dark eyes spark with fire once before. The last time, the ammo had been aimed at him. Dan watched Gwen make a beeline for a small snack table stacked with plates and fruits and cheeses. Perhaps she’d grown hungry or faint, Dan thought hopefully. Gwen’s gaze homed in on the Texas twosome standing nearby with replenished wines, and Dan changed his mind. He didn’t know what Gwen was up to, but the way she clip-clopped purposely across the room told him no good.