Santa Fe Fortune (2 page)

“You guys okay over there?” a pair of cowgirl boots called from the corner.

“Thanks, we’ve got it!” Gwen replied, scooting back on her knees. She couldn’t believe this mess! What had she gotten herself into? Here she was with this hunky beast of a man, trapped beneath a solid yet decorative desk.

He had a rugged face, tanned like he was used to working outdoors. His sandy hair held a hint of sunlight too. Toned muscles strained beneath his suit jacket as he posed on all fours, looking far more like a predator in the wild than a staid art collector. Gwen had an improbable instinct to flee but was powerless to run away. He’d been an impossible man above board, but down here in the shadows, he revealed something more. Instinct told Gwen that Holbrook was the sort of man who knew how to kiss a woman and kiss her right. She imagined getting swept into his powerful arms, his mouth moving down on hers…

“Are you all right?” His gaze dove into her as heat swept up her cheeks.

“Yes, fine. That’s all, I think,” she said, sweeping the remainders into her clutch.

Gwen didn’t know why his gorgeous stare had unnerved her so. It wasn’t like she was attracted to him, for heaven’s sake. If her take on Holbrook was correct, he had plenty of women falling all over him already. What would a sophisticated Western entrepreneur like him want with a Carolina girl like her anyway? Apart from a quick good time, probably not a lot, and Gwendolyn Marsh was quite done with being somebody’s goodtime girl, thank you very much.

Little lines pulled at the corners of his mouth, and she realized suddenly they were still both on the floor. “If you’ve got all you need, don’t you think we should…” He gave a thumbs-up, and she pushed back, standing awkwardly.

Holbrook brushed off his trousers, the slight tugs showing off powerfully muscled thighs. Clearly not just a gallery owner, she thought, cheeks flaming as he caught her staring.

A tense moment ensued as both appeared to forget where they were or what they were there for. As if to remind them, the California man loudly cleared his throat.

“Just finishing up,” Dan told him. “Ms. Marsh,” he began, addressing her.

 
“Gwen, please. I’d be happy if you called me Gwen.” She smoothed the wrinkles from her dress and straightened the neckline.

“Gwen,” he said, offering up his first true smile since she’d arrived, and boy, was it a winner. If a heartbreaker contest existed in all of the Southwest, Gwen would bet on Holbrook to take the prize. “I’m afraid I’ve already taken up too much of your time.”

Gwen spied the California couple circling closer like sharks, apparently having grown tired of waiting, and panic set in. What a terrible two days she’d had. First, her flight to Atlanta was delayed. Then, she’d missed her Albuquerque connection, causing her to miss her originally scheduled gallery appointment. To top it off, when she finally got a replacement flight, she’d chipped a nail stuffing her bulging carry-on into the overhead compartment.

Making Santa Fe from the airport last night was easy. Finding the craftily concealed entity of Holbrook and Holstein on Canyon Road this morning proved more elusive. Even her GPS was miffed, telling her to make legal U-turns wherever possible, no matter that the prospect involved going round and round in the Vegan Market parking lot.

Now, after making a wreck of this business call, she’d be leaving here having done no business at all. Not one sale to the gallery, despite her tumultuous flight and anxiety-producing encounter with Dan Holbrook.

Gwen pulled herself up a little straighter and squared her small shoulders. She couldn’t leave New Mexico without getting what she came for. Too many people depended on her, and this was the one shot she had.

“Maybe we can continue this conversation later?” she asked with a hopeful twist to her lips.

 
“I was just about to suggest that.”

“You were?” she asked with surprise.

“Ms. Marsh…” He stopped himself. “Gwen… Do you really think Holbrook and Holstein would have had you come all this way if we didn’t have a genuine interest in your work?” Crinkles formed at the corners of his blue eyes, and Gwen’s heart soared.

“But I thought you said the prices quoted to me in the email were…”

“Everything in life is negotiable. Well, almost everything. Tell you what, why don’t you give me a few hours to put through a phone call to France, and I’ll see what I can do.”

In an instant, Gwen retracted every uncharitable thought she’d had about him. When she’d first walked into the swanky, upscale warehouse and spied him double-checking the pricing on a large wall weaving, she’d imagined him incredibly stuck-up. Who wouldn’t be with that six-foot build and well-proportioned frame that spoke of power and unerring self-control? She’d pegged him as the rigid sort who never took no for an answer and considered his own words the final determinant. Now that he was showing a small sliver of humanity, she realized she might have misjudged him.

“I’d love to talk again,” she said, meaning it sincerely. “When’s best for you?”

“How about tomorrow at lunch? Will that work?”

Ms. Holstein, his business partner, Gwen presumed, had proposed that Gwen make a little vacation out of her stay in Santa Fe while she was at it. Her sister Marian had thought it was a fine idea too.
“Go for it, Gwen! Now’s your chance to finally get away!”
What Marian didn’t know, and Gwen hadn’t been prepared to tell her, was that Gwen’s coming to Santa Fe had a whole lot to do with her.

“I’m booked at the inn for ten days,” she said, smiling softly. “So, lunch tomorrow is fine.”

Holbrook surprised her with a smile of his own. “Awesome.” He nabbed a gallery card and quickly penned something on the back. “Let’s meet here. Something tells me the conversation might flow a little better between us given a couple of avocado margaritas.”

“Avocado?” she retorted, half stunned, half horrified.

Holbrook gave a genuine chuckle as she accepted his card. “Nobody’s forcing the hard stuff on you. I’m sure there will be tea and soda available too.”

There was a twinkle in his eye that set her tailbone tingling. Slow down there, sister, Gwen told herself. This is strictly business now. Not anywhere near a date.

“What time?” she asked primly, pinning her clutch to her side.

He studied her in an amused way. “One o’clock okay?”

“One sounds fine!” she said, scurrying toward the exit before she could do or say something absurd.

“Watch the…!”

Gwen spun toward him, noting she’d nearly upset a pretty,
handblown
glass vase with the edge of her bag. She grimaced, slinking out the door as the gaping Californians gawked on.

Once outside and beyond sight of the gallery’s windows, Gwen snatched her bag from beneath her arm and whacked herself soundly on the forehead. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She might have blown the whole thing. And not just by breaking a priceless piece of art. The way she’d started things out had been nothing short of shameless. Crafting a confrontation with the primary gallery owner. Clearly, that could lead to nothing but butting heads.

Gwen felt a warmth surge through her, recalling their close encounter of the nearly carnal kind. There was more to Dan Holbrook than met the eye. Hadn’t he just proved that with his turn of kindness at the end? But the truth of the matter was that whatever sort of man he was, or wasn’t, was beside the point. Gwen had come to Santa Fe on a mission, and that mission involved dollar signs. She didn’t just want the money; she needed it. Twenty thousand in cash, and she wasn’t leaving New Mexico without it.

Dan finished business quickly with the couple from Los Angeles after offering sincere apologies for making them wait. They’d prearranged to purchase the desert photo series, and everything, including price negotiations, thank goodness, had been settled with Nancy in advance. It was a simple matter of the pair presenting a check and Dan providing the receipt. In the morning, he’d arrange for shipping, and Nancy’s gallery assistant would be in to help with the details. That would be the simple part of Dan’s day. Lunchtime could prove more problematic.

Dan chided himself for suggesting Gwen meet him at La Cantina rather than here. Outwardly, he told himself that he was being charitable. Gwen had seemed so uptight at the gallery, perhaps a more comfortable venue would be less intimidating. He’d read her résumé and understood that if she sold through Holbrook and Holstein, it would be her first real sale, her official launch in the art world. But deep in the veiled recesses of his soul, Dan suspected a slight ulterior motive. He hadn’t enjoyed the company of an attractive woman in ages, and this was a safe way to do it. Lunch in the middle of the day, a straightforward business deal? What could be more innocent? Raw doubts niggled at him as he warned himself against getting in too deep. The way he’d sprung the invitation on Gwen had been completely out of character. It had been a split-second decision, an act on impulse, and Dan was anything but an impulsive man.

He would never have built his empire of custom-design homes for the moneyed set if he’d operated from a basis of anything but collected cool. In those circles, Dan was known for his keen eye and level head, as well as his effectiveness in putting together a team. From the highest-level architect to the most basic yet very skilled carpenter, every one of Holbrook Designs’ workers was treated with utmost respect and handsomely paid. This was particularly appreciated in the current economic climate but had always been the operational mode for Dan. Whether times were easy or hard, Dan’s business remained steady. While his homes certainly weren’t cheap, they were of a consistent quality the buyer could count on. Plus, Dan was a man of his word who stood by his product. People could depend on him to deliver the best and ensure they had a comfortable and stunningly beautiful place in which to live for years to come. It was an area in which Dan felt confident, competent.

This temporary gallery-running made him feel something altogether different, and Dan didn’t like it one bit. While working with the California couple had gone fine, dealing with Ms. Gwendolyn Marsh had thrown him unexpectedly off-kilter. Nancy had nowhere near prepared him for that. Just because he’d helped his big sister finance this place, that didn’t mean he wanted to be involved in any intimate way. Nancy was the art history major who loved the ins and outs of acquiring art. Running a gallery in Santa Fe had always been her dream, and once Dan had found himself in a position to help with that, he’d been more than happy to foot the bill. He’d never imagined that she’d repay him by listing his name as the primary gallery owner. This perpetually led to confusion, like during his exchange with Gwen today.

No matter. He’d straighten all that out tomorrow. Surely, after a good lunch and some cordial conversation, they’d arrive at a fair compromise on price. It would be a simple matter to smooth over during coffee and dessert. Then Ms. Gwendolyn Marsh could cart her sexy little tail all the way back to North Carolina, and Dan would continue counting down the days to Nancy’s return, when he would once again be free to retreat to the peaceful quiet of Paradise Ranch. Life wasn’t really so complicated after all, Dan decided, thinking it through. All you needed was a plan. And Dan’s plans didn’t include one firecracker of a Southern belle upending his world and sending his foolish heart racing. For Dan Holbrook, days like that were done. His throat ached at the memory. He swallowed hard, trying to force it back down. Dan had stepped into the fire once and had come out barbequed. No need to start poking at coals again.

Gwen sat on the patio of her airy suite, surrounded by sweeping adobe walls, potted ferns, and cactus flowers. Despite the record-high temperatures, the lack of humidity made it pleasant enough to stay outdoors in the shade. She sipped at her host’s complimentary glass of chardonnay, knowing she needed to be cautious. At seven thousand feet above sea level, one glass of wine could feel like two. The inn’s cocktail hour had also offered a selection of fruits, vegetables, and cheeses, and Gwen had fixed herself a small plate as a buffering against the booze. She’d have to remain mindful of herself tomorrow at lunch, particularly in light of the proposed margaritas.

Gwen couldn’t help but feel a slight tingle of hopeful anticipation. For the first time in as long as she remembered, she’d be eating out with an eligible man. She knew, of course, that it was just an art deal, and she was merely passing through town. It was nonetheless hard to deny the tiniest fluttering in her tummy that sprang to life each time she recalled being face-to-face on the floor with the undeniably handsome Holbrook. Had something authentic actually passed between them, or had Gwen been so nervous and delusional as to have imagined the whole thing?

She glanced down at the simple gold band on her left ring finger. Gwen wasn’t sure if it was her marriage she couldn’t forget or her failure to maintain it.
“Marshes aren’t quitters!”
her mom, Elizabeth, had always said. While life may have quit on Elizabeth, she wasn’t about to let her daughters give up on anything. It was a mantra burned into them, her and her sister Marian both. Gwen only wished Marian had quit having babies about three children ago. Marian was expecting her sixth, and after years of verbal and physical abuse, her alcoholic husband, Tom, had finally run out on her. Gwen had truthfully considered this a blessing, as it had been clear after the first couple of years that Marian never intended to leave Tom.