How to Marry a Matador (Exclusive Sneak Preview) Read online

  HOW TO MARRY A MATADOR

  By

  Ginny Baird

  Published by

  Winter Wedding Press

  Copyright 2012

  Ginny Baird

  Smashwords Edition

  ISBN 978-0-9851235-6-7

  All Rights Reserved

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient, unless this book is a participant in a qualified lending program. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. To obtain permission to export portions of the text, please contact the author at [email protected].

  Characters in this book are fiction and figments of the author’s imagination.

  ****

  Dear Readers,

  Welcome to Book Two in my “Girls on the Go” series, How to Marry a Matador, which speaks to my soul in so many ways. While many people know my paternal ancestry is Scottish, not as many are aware that my mother’s side hails from Spain. Not only do I have distant relatives in Iberia, I’ve also lived on the enchanting peninsula twice, both times as an adventuresome young woman.

  Trust me when I say, I can relate to Ms. Jessica Bloom as she feels the tug and pull of the mysterious country with its captivating culture and intoxicating landscapes. Had I met a matador as mesmerizing as Fernando, I’m not sure that I ever would have recovered. In fact, I might have married and stayed there, meaning this manuscript might have been written in Spanish!

  I had so much fun crafting How to Marry a Matador, and I’m hoping you’ll have just as much fun reading it. I lived for a time in Madrid and Seville, and each is dear to my heart. I was additionally taken with the small, whitewashed villages of southern Spain, known as los pueblos blancos. It was after a few of these towns that I modeled my fictional village of La Esperanza del Corazón, a name which translates as “Hope of the Heart.”

  As hope is something Jess has lost sight of, it’s the perfect place for her to land in a hunky bullfighter’s arms. Sometimes it takes the extraordinary to make us appreciate life’s simple pleasures. And often, our greatest joy comes in discovering what we have to give back ourselves. Our heroine has heeded a number of voices throughout her life. It’s only when she begins to listen to herself that her faith fully blossoms.

  So please, pack up your suitcase and join us for the adventure. This time, in sunny Spain, land of haciendas, olive groves, and exceedingly dashing matadors. ¡Olé!

  With best wishes for happy endings,

  Ginny Baird, author of “Girls on the Go”

  Sometimes you have to get away to find yourself!

  ****

  HOW TO MARRY A MATADOR

  Fernando sighed, worry lines creasing his brow. “You’re terribly angry with me, aren’t you?”

  “It takes two to tango, Fernando. I’m not saying all of this is your fault. I played a part in what happened yesterday too.”

  He turned toward her with a penetrating look. “That’s what I don’t understand. Why did you?”

  Jess felt a lurch of emotion as he dissected her with his earnest green gaze. “I…don’t know.”

  He leaned toward her with a husky whisper. “Oh, but I think you do.”

  He drew nearer, his mouth hovering over hers. Jess cursed herself for so badly wanting his kiss. His kisses had been so tantalizing last night, they’d made her lose all sense of reason. And it wasn’t just the way he’d held her. When he’d looked deep in her eyes and said that one thing, she’d inexplicably believed him as she had no man before.

  “Why did you?”

  Fernando reached out and cupped her chin in his hand. “Because, querida, when I saw you standing there in that garden, with that beautiful smile on your lips, I knew with a certainty that I’d have to claim them. That I wouldn’t rest until I made you mine.”

  “It was a simple sexual attraction.”

  “There was nothing simple about it,” he said, brushing his lips to hers.

  Jess closed her eyes as her heart stilled. She couldn’t let herself do this, but she couldn’t stop herself either. His masculine scent washed over her as she felt his palm press into the small of her back.

  “Jessica,” he said, resting his forehead on hers. “When I tell you the truth about this morning, I don’t want you to believe that anything last night was a lie.” And then to prove it, he kissed her deeply, with a skill and a passion that made her lose grip of her wine, sending the contents of her cup sloshing sideways.

  “Your sister’s riding pants,” she said, nearly breathless.

  “They’ll wash,” he said, tenderly stroking her thigh.

  “Fernando,” Jess gasped, pulling back. “We can’t.”

  He studied her a thoughtful moment as she gazed at him wide-eyed.

  “Then we won’t,” he said with a quick peck on her lips.

  She shivered involuntarily in spite of herself. This man had a way of completely undoing her.

  “We’ll have a little something to eat first.” He pulled several small bundles from his bag, along with a small knife and a cutting board.

  “While we talk?”

  “Of course,” he said, handing her a napkin for her slacks. “Then afterwards, I’ll let you decide.”

  “Decide what?”

  Fernando shot her a sexy grin as he refilled her wine.

  “Whether or not I’m the husband of your dreams.”

  ****

  Chapter One

  Jess rolled over into a wall of steel. She opened her eyes, encountering a strong, masculine shoulder. Hoofbeats echoed outside to the sound of ándale, ándale, vámanos! Her gaze panned the spread of his broad, olive chest, graced with charcoal hair matching the wavy array on his head. Impossibly perfect cheekbones offset a patrician nose. No Renaissance sculptor could have crafted a finer face. Jess’s mind whirled, recalling the evening of wild flamenco dancing and sangria. This slumbering specimen can’t be, but he is!

  She gingerly lifted the sheet and peered beneath it with a gasp.

  “Good morning, princesa,” he said, emerald eyes upon her.

  Jess pinched the duvet to her chest, her face on fire. “Fernando.”

  He turned toward her, covers gaping. “I trust you slept well,” he said, trailing a finger down her arm. Little shivers raced up her spine, then plummeted in a dead heat toward her tailbone. He brought warm lips to her shoulder, gracing it with a kiss. “I also hope,” he said, his Spanish accent trilling, “you meant what you said last night.”

  Panic tore through her as she desperately tried to recall. Gracefully, he filled in the blank. “That you were happy to be my wife.” Wife? Did he just say wife?

  Fernando tenderly peeled back the duvet, admiring the curve of her hip beneath a satiny sheer nighty. His palm centered on the small of her back as he angled his ruggedly handsome face toward hers. “And you took pains to prove it,” he said in a husky rasp, pressing her lower region toward his vivid response.

  Jess pushed back with a start and pinched her forearm, certain she would wake up. He lazily pulled himself partially upright on one elbow, resting his head in his hand.

  Jess stared, dumbfounded, while Fernando lifted his brow and waited.

  “What…is the meaning of this?” she asked, covering herself primly.

  “Don Fernando!” a voice called through the screenless window in gruff Castilian. “You still riding this morning?”

  Fernando shot Jess a questioning look. She quickly shook her head.

  “Not today, Pedrito!” he
called back in English. “We’re sorry to have troubled you!”

  “We?” Jess asked, her voice escaping as a whisper.

  “You insisted I take you riding. Don’t you recall? It was the second thing you wished to do as my new wife.”

  Jess felt the heat bolt to her temples and chin. Suddenly, it all came back to her. The late night at the bodega, Fernando’s unexpected and utterly passionate kiss, their unanticipated encounter with that Catholic priest… Jess swallowed hard past the burn in her throat.

  She’d come to Madrid on an acquisitions merger but had married a matador instead.

  Fernando watched as the beautiful woman leapt from the bed, snatching the duvet with her. Honey-blonde hair cascaded past delicate shoulders as she suddenly averted brilliant blue eyes.

  “You should cover yourself,” she insisted.

  “But it seems my new wife has taken the covers.”

  “And stop saying that!” she cried with an indignant pout.

  “What? That you’re my wife? I do apologize,” he said, sitting upright and scooting to the edge of the bed. “Perhaps it’s better if I call you my bride.”

  Jess instinctively stepped back. “Now, Fernando,” she began with a wave of her finger. “You know as well as I do that—if anything happened last night—it wasn’t supposed to.”

  He noticed she was trying not to peek at him but was failing in her efforts. He took this as encouragement to drop his feet to the floor and face her outright, sporting his full glory.

  “Is that what you Americans mean by, Take me back to your bed, you beast. I’m yours?”

  She gasped audibly. “I said that?” she asked with unmasked horror.

  Taking pity on the woman, Fernando covered his lap with a feather pillow. “You can look now,” he said with a sigh.

  She steadied her chin, settling her gaze on the window. “How do I know I can trust you?”

  “I guess you don’t,” he replied. “But I’m inviting you to take the chance.”

  Slowly, she turned her eyes toward his. They were an amazing shade of blue, aquamarine, really. Fernando felt as if he could swim in them forever. He recalled thinking that yesterday evening, after a few too many pitchers of sangria and a splendidly expensive bottle of cava. Perhaps he’d gotten carried away in asking her to be his bride. But after the flamenco show and the kiss by the fountain, their surprise encounter with his old friend Father Domingo had seemed nothing less than a direct sign from God.

  “Where are my clothes?” she asked, color sweeping the bridge of her nose.

  Fernando pointed to the armoire beside the door leading to the well-appointed bathroom.

  “I suppose the shower’s in there?” she asked, angling her head in that direction.

  “There are fresh towels on the stand behind the claw-foot tub,” he said.

  Her cheeks flamed red. Perhaps she did remember everything.

  “Fine, thank you,” she said hoarsely, sidestepping her way across the floor, the hem of the duvet trailing over inlaid tile.

  “Would you like something to eat?” he called after her. “I can have Consuelo bring up breakfast.”

  She skittered into the bathroom, partially closing the door. “Just coffee!” she called before shutting it with a bang.

  Fernando sat upright with a start and tossed aside the pillow.

  “Consuelo?” he said into the intercom by the bed, pressing its button.

  “¿Sí, señor?” a kindly older voice asked from the kitchen.

  “Dos café con leche, por favor.”

  “Two, Don Fernando?”

  While it had come as surprise, Fernando didn’t precisely view his marriage as a mistake. In fact, given the timeline imposed by his grandfather for inheriting his fortune, this little twist of fate just might prove fortuitous.

  “Sí, dos. And, if you will, place a pretty, fresh rose on the tray. I have something happy to tell you.”

  Jess let the water run hot, hitting her full in the face. Any second now, she was going to wake up in her apartment in Brooklyn, her best friend Evie calling her on the phone about some recent catastrophe that had occurred… Jess’s mind raced, putting pieces of the puzzle together.

  Fernando Garcia de la Vega’s emerging telecommunications firm had been a long-term associate of her multinational corporation headquartered in New York. While Jess wasn’t super tech-savvy, she knew how money worked. Trained in the banking industry, she’d earned her stripes by helping arrange the takeover of United National Savings & Loan’s domestic division by InTrust Corp. While she’d really been the second in that job, her magnanimous superior had given her the bulk of the credit. The offer to head up the foreign acquisitions office at Global Financial Telecom had come just two weeks later. She’d accepted the post with a mixture of joy and trepidation. There she was at twenty-eight, and—according to everyone else—finally making her way. Inwardly, she feared she’d bitten off more than she could chew. She’d never handled such a large responsibility alone. What if she made a disaster of it all and failed everybody in the process?

  While Global Financial had started as a bank, it quickly expanded into the lucrative computing field, piloting the first purse-size, all-purpose computer. With computing and telecommunications becoming so intricately linked, interest in other types of personal electronic devices followed. So far, Jess had done a reasonable job, impressing her stern, middle-aged boss Madeline with her string of unlikely successes. She didn’t know how her mergers had always come through, but it appeared as if she had an invisible good luck charm buried somewhere deep in her pocket. Each time she got assigned to something new, Jess silently feared her luck would run out. Now, it appeared it finally had.

  Jess shut off the water and reached for a towel, her gaze panning toward the bedroom. How could she have let herself get swept away? So what if Fernando was gorgeous, intelligent, and had an accent to die for? That was no reason to go shedding her clothes and getting married! Jess cinched the towel around herself, realizing she had that in the wrong order. The marriage part had come before the hopping into bed. But why had she done it? She wasn’t that old-fashioned, for heaven’s sake. Sleeping with a man after a few too many sangrias and a momentary lapse in judgment was one thing. Saying “I do” under the arch of an orange tree in the courtyard of some small church whose name she couldn’t pronounce was something else entirely.

  Jess warmed at the memory of Fernando kissing her by the main plaza’s fountain, sweetly at first—and then with the passion of a parched man determined to drink her in. Her face flashed hot as she further recalled Fernando’s skilled, masculine touch once he’d brought her back to his lair. The ranch was breathtaking in its desolate beauty, rows of olive trees threaded by moonlight, a faraway vineyard trailing over burnt hills.

  She hadn’t even known he’d come from a family of matadors or had once worked as a bullfighter himself. These were stories he told to few people, he’d assured her with a tender caress before leading her up the stairs. While the townsfolk of La Esperanza del Corazón viewed him as a hero, in Madrid Fernando was just a successful businessman. Neither the family he came from nor the world he’d left behind had any bearing on his corporate potential. So he’d shuttered away his past, vowing to reserve its unveiling only for those special parties with whom he might share a future. He’d led her to his bed then, saying that their impromptu marriage had been a blessing, something he’d never wish undone—no matter how she might think of him tomorrow. And, when he’d offered to show her the scar that tore from his upper left thigh to his navel, she’d found it impossible to say no.

  Jess moistened a washcloth from a nearby stand with cool water and pressed it to her chest. Fine trickles slid south, gliding into her cleavage.

  Okay, so she’d admit it. Ever since they’d first met six months ago, she’d been reduced to a handful of putty each time he’d given her that deep, expressive look with those impossibly unnerving eyes. Still, she’d steeled herself against him, unde
rstanding that when he was being flirty, it was likely in the interest of his own financial gain. That was just what Fernando was: untrustworthy. Which was precisely why she had no reason to trust him now. Fernando was up to something with this marriage bit, and Jess was determined to learn what. But first, she needed to find an Internet connection and research Spanish marriage laws. Surely, things couldn’t be as bad as they seemed.

  Fernando hummed a love song and strategically angled the tray, rearranging its bud vase for maybe the tenth time. Ridiculous, he told himself. It was only a flower. But none could be as sweet as the delicate rose that had opened up for him last night. Fernando would be a liar to say he hadn’t wanted her—ached for her—for months on end. He’d never seen a face so lovely or known a mind so sharp. Hers was such an intoxicating combination, he might even have married her without the wine.

  Though he’d secretly imagined laying her in his bed at least a dozen times, he’d never envisioned the sheer ecstasy of actually being with her. She was so sweet yet tough, like a tiger in the wild. And her kisses were the nearest thing to heaven. If the bright Andalusian sun hadn’t awakened him from his slumber, he might have thought he’d fantasized the whole thing. He’d stirred early to find a sleeping angel beside him, then had quickly shut his eyes, lest she evaporate like an enchanted dream. The next thing he knew, she was moving beside him, carefully peering under the sheet to ensure he possessed the correct…accoutrements needed to fulfill his husbandly duties. Fernando sighed, thinking he’d be glad to perform those again and at any time his willing wife was ready.

  He stared toward the bathroom, noting the shower had stopped. This might not be the most standard way to begin a union, but it certainly couldn’t be the worst. Fernando was sure that Jessica would agree—once she got over the shock.