Santa Fe Fortune (3 page)

Marian worked part-time as a hospital nurse and tried to get the day shift as much as possible. When she was gone, she left her oldest, the eleven-year-old, in charge. During night shifts, her elderly neighbor, Ms.
Tilly
, helped out. During the academic year, Marian had daycare arranged for the twins while the others were in school. She wasn’t sure how she’d manage once the new baby came along, especially under the threat of losing her home. Marian’s mortgage was several months overdue, and the collectors were moving in. She hadn’t told Gwen that Tom stopped sending payments, or that she was in so deep, until it was almost too late. As it was, Marian barely had funds in her meager savings account to buy a few months’ worth of diapers. Her checking account was essentially empty, being worn down month after month by her family’s needs, including the kids’ doctors’ bills.

Marian had been in tears when she’d told Gwen the truth. If she lost her house, she feared her children would be taken away from her. She had nowhere else to go. Gwen’s sparse two-bedroom could scarcely hold them all, not for any length of time, at least. And their mom, having long ago been placed in the memory-care unit of a retirement home, was far from being able to help. She barely scraped by on Social Security and most days didn’t recognize either of her daughters, besides.

If Marian could just hang on one more year until the twins were in school, she thought she could make it. With only the new baby to place in daycare, she’d be able to work full-time. That would give her benefits like a retirement pension and health insurance. She’d be better able to meet her kids’ medical expenses as well as plan for her own future. As it stood, she had six months of back mortgage to pay and another twelve months’ obligation to look forward to. She was overwhelmed and in pieces, unsure of what to do. Taking Tom to court wasn’t an option. Marian didn’t have the financial resources, and even if she did, it would be hard squeezing blood from a stone. Tom was on and off the bottle and in and out of work. She couldn’t rely on him now any more than she had during their marriage.

It was a dire and depressing situation. Gwen had thought for weeks about what she might do to help her sister. The trouble was Gwen was in financial strife herself. Robert had been so furious at her for kicking him out, he’d run up over ten thousand dollars in credit-card debt on purpose. The pro bono women’s shelter attorney Gwen consulted said there was nothing Gwen could do about Robert maxing out the account jointly held in their names. Gwen was unfortunately just as liable for half of his debts as entitled to half of his earnings. Good luck with that. Robert, a successful production assistant with a Hollywood company providing East Coast sets, had found plenty of loopholes in which to stash his cash. Gwen twisted the simple wedding band once, realizing her cheeks were damp.

She finished off her chardonnay, more determined than ever to sell those canvases and at the best possible price. She’d started small with a few local juried art shows around town, then had dared to put a modest portfolio of slides together and began sending it out. Holbrook and Holstein in Santa Fe had been her first real nibble. In effect, it had been a really big bite. Top dollar for her work, plus the cost of round-trip air tickets and accommodations to boot. Holbrook probably thought that Gwen was being greedy, trying to barter up the price for her own gain. Nothing could be further from the truth. Marian’s kids needed their mama, and Gwen needed to help her baby sister. One way or another, Gwen was going to see this through. Dan Holbrook could think anything about her that he liked. She’d never see him again after tomorrow anyway.

****

Chapter Two

When Dan got to La Cantina, Gwen had already arrived. He spied her seated at a table for two in the large atrium styled like a Spanish courtyard and decorated in colorful tile. She studied the menu as he approached, a white peasant blouse sweeping her shoulders, hair pinned up in a casual way that offset her cheekbones and fair complexion. Dan had to stop walking and catch his breath. She was truly a beautiful woman, even more beautiful than he’d given her credit for yesterday at the gallery. Then again, yesterday at the gallery, she’d appeared primed to bite his head off. Today, she just looked hungry.

“Can I help you find a table, sir?” a tall waiter in a waistcoat inquired.

“Thanks, I see where I’m going,” Dan said, shaking the reverie. Hearing their exchange, Gwen looked up at him and smiled. He felt a little twist in his gut and realized this was worse than he thought. Dan smiled back pleasantly, determined to pull himself together. He envisioned a large Weber grill, coals searing beneath its grate, and suddenly felt driven to thirst.

He joined Gwen at the table, exchanged pleasantries, then took a long drag of water from the glass that had been provided at his place. She eyed him curiously as he drained it all.

“It’s murder out there,” he said, referencing the weather.

“Certainly is hot,” she agreed.

“I hope you found this place okay.”

“Oh yes, just fine.” Warm brown eyes sparkled enticingly.

“They’ve got some really great specials today. Have you taken a look?”

Gwen turned over the menu in her hands, and he wondered again about that wedding band. How long had she been divorced, and why would she continue to wear it? Dan reminded himself that delving into Gwen’s personal affairs was none of his business.

 
She surveyed the ample list of entrees. “Any recommendations?”

“Depends on whether you like spicy.”

She gave him a big, appealing grin. “I love spicy food. All kinds. But I’d love to try something particular to the region.” Why did she have to look so darned likable today? She really wasn’t cooperating in encouraging Dan to keep his distance.

“Would you like me to order for us?” he asked, wanting to be helpful yet not wishing to overstep his bounds.

“That would be nice. Thanks.” Gwen lowered her face to her menu to disguise a faint blush.

Dan fought a swell of heat, surmising there wasn’t enough air in here. “Okay, be honest with me. Yes or no to avocado margaritas?”

“You weren’t kidding, were you?” she asked with surprise.

“I may be many things, but I’m not really much of a kidder.”

She stared at him intently, trying to read him. Dan tried to repress a smile but felt his eyes crinkle just the same.

“That was kidding, wasn’t it?” she asked, waving a scolding finger.

He let loose a belly laugh, enjoying himself. “I’m afraid it was.”

Gwen released a tiny puff of air, apparently relieved. “I’ll try an avocado margarita,” she answered, “but just one.”

A little while later, Gwen took her first taste of the tantalizing southwestern treat. Finely pureed like a smoothie, it was silky, cool, and delicious. You couldn’t taste the tequila at all. Gwen was glad she’d made the advance decision to stick with one. Holbrook did too. He ordered them a delicious chicken
poblano
over Mexican rice, with a cold gazpacho soup to start. It was a perfect meal, and he had been right. After a couple of margaritas, their conversation flowed a lot more smoothly. For one thing, she learned that while his name was on it, he didn’t actually run the gallery. He was merely filling in this month for his older sister Nancy. His real work involved home building of some kind. It was a job he seemed to enjoy and which often kept him outdoors.

“I insist that you call me Dan,” he said as their plates were cleared. “Mr. Holbrook hardly seems right with me calling you Gwen. You’re making me feel like an old man.”

“Oh, I suspect you’re not that old,” she said, feeling as if she was flirting.

He colored slightly around his open collar. “Thirty-nine next month. Practically over the hill.”

He was dressed casually today, in khaki slacks and an azure polo shirt that complemented his eyes. The shirt fit him nicely, stretching evenly across his broad and muscled chest. Gwen found herself wondering what it would be like to press her hands against it, feel the strength and power there. Maybe that margarita was getting to her after all.

“Well, I’m thirty-two, so not that far behind you.”

He took a long, slow sip of his drink, surveying her over the rim of his glass. “Something tells me it will be some time before Ms. Gwendolyn Marsh makes it over that hill.”

Now was he flirting with her? The way he studied her made Gwen think Dan had more than painting on his mind. She imagined removing his shirt and applying a deep massage oil, stroking the musculature there. Heat welled within her, sending electric currents from her fingertips to her toes. Gwen reminded herself to stay on track. Maybe the margarita was getting to him as well. Although that seemed difficult to believe, given his sturdy and scrumptious build. Oh dear, there she went again. It was a relief when Dan changed the subject by suggesting dessert. Anything to take her mind off further explorations of that come-hither chest.

“It was a wonderful lunch, but I honestly don’t have room for more.”

“Not even jalapeño custard pie?” Dan tempted. Gwen had the sense that Dan Holbrook could tempt even the most sensible woman into almost anything.

“Maybe next time,” she said, combating a new rush of heat with a long drink of water, which, instead of hitting her lips, splashed in her lap. “Oh dear!” Gwen brought her palms to her cheeks as Dan sprang from his chair.

“Take mine,” he said, pressing his cloth napkin to her skirt. Suddenly, his warmth spread through her nether regions. She gasped, and he glanced up, their eyes locking.

“I’ll get it, thanks,” she stammered as he pulled his napkin aside, and she took to the task with hers, promptly dropping her napkin on the floor. “My goodness.”

Dan scooped low to retrieve the soggy rag. He hesitated briefly to study her dangling ankle bracelet, then righted himself slowly, his sky-blue gaze grazing hers.

Dan reddened as he handed Gwen back her napkin. “I’ll call the waiter over and ask for more.”

“Don’t bother,” she said sweetly. “I think that’s got it.”

Gwen couldn’t believe what a klutz she’d been. What was it about this man that made her all butterfingered? Okay, the truth was Marian had sometimes accused her of being a teensy bit clumsy, but she’d never been an out-and-out wrecking ball like this. It was probably a combination of things. Her mission for money complicated by Dan’s inexcusable hotness. She found herself wishing briefly that his sister Nancy had been here to meet with her instead. A split-second later, she realized that was a lie.

The hard fact was Gwen was attracted to Dan. Seriously attracted. And perhaps he’d given indications that he was the slightest bit interested in her as well. But what was wrong with that? Colleagues could enjoy a simple flirtation, for heaven’s sake. Gwen was sure it happened all the time. That certainly didn’t mean it had to go anywhere. Gwen hadn’t come to Santa Fe to find a man. She’d come to launch her art career and help her sister. Over time, she’d also be helping herself. After a while, she could do less and less of her day job and more of what gave her pleasure and caused her spirit to soar.

“You know,” Dan said as coffee arrived for the two of them. “I’ve gone on at length about my work, and you haven’t really talked about yours. Have you been painting long?”

“I did a bit in high school, but then sort of let it go.”

“How’s that?” he asked.

“When I started applying to colleges, my mom encouraged me to pursue something a bit more practical.” She shrugged, resigned. “She may have had a point. I’m not sure what sort of job I might have gotten as an art major. I couldn’t imagine teaching something I loved so much and found so personal. I’m afraid it would have taken the passion out of it for me. So I decided to finish in music instead.”

“Music?” he asked with surprise. “Are you talented?”

“Not in the least,” she said with a laugh. “In fact, do you know that expression?”

Dan grinned. “Those who can, do; those who can’t, teach?”

“Precisely. I can’t carry a tune in a bucket, and I’m impossibly inept on the keyboard.”

Dan leaned forward on his elbows. “Then how…?”

“Oh, I have a great ear for things. I mean, when someone else is doing the playing, I can pluck the mistakes right out. Not that I’m hard on my students. I’m really a very encouraging teacher.” And she was too. The children appeared to love her, and their parents 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.