How to Marry a Matador (Exclusive Sneak Preview) by Ginny Baird Page A

one in
her class in Spanish Four. The fact that this had been in high
school didn’t diminish the fact. “I was hoping to find Ms. Jessica
Bloom at home.”
    He lowered his brow and stared at her. “ No
existe. ”
    She didn’t exist? Oh my God! They had killed
her! Eve frantically glanced around, wishing with all her might
she’d asked the taxi driver to wait. Here she was, a million miles
from nowhere, with the gardener from some maniac family holding
murderous shears. She stared down at his hedge clippers, thinking
she spied hints of dried blood. Maybe it was red Spanish clay. She
wasn’t sure but certainly wasn’t ready to take the chance. Eve took
two giant steps back, nearly stumbling down the stone stairs.
    The old man surveyed her cautiously, then
began to close the door.
    “Pedrito!” a woman’s voice called from
inside. “Who’s there?”
    The man stepped aside, his keen eye on Eve,
almost like he believed her to be the dangerous party.
    “Hello,” the elegant middle-aged woman said.
“I’m Ana María Garcia de la Vega. How may I help you?”
    “I’m Eve. Eve Parker,” she said, extending
her hand.
    Ana María shook it, appearing vaguely
uncomfortable with the gesture.
    “You come from America?”
    “In search of my friend, Jessica Bloom. Last
I heard, she was here.”
    Ana María smiled pleasantly. “She’s a Garcia
de la Vega now.”
    “So I heard,” Eve said, willing herself to
remain calm.
    “And yes, she was here, but I’m afraid she’s
not now. She and Fernando have gone to Seville.”
    “Thank God!” Eve cried, unable to stop
herself. She cupped her hand to her mouth, recalling she was in a
very Catholic country.
    Ana María shared a disapproving look.
“They’ve gone there on holiday. Their honeymoon.”
    “Honeymoon?”
    “What else might one assume? They’ve only
been married five days.”
    Eve hoped Ana María had it wrong. Surely she
meant they’d gone there to get an annulment. But if Ana María
didn’t know that, Eve decided she ought not to mention it. The
concept of slaying the messenger was common to all lands, and there
was a man holding sharp implements nearby.
    “Can you point me in the direction of
Seville?” Eve smiled brightly and acted like she asked the question
every day.
    Ana María studied her for a prolonged beat.
“Are Jessica and Fernando expecting you?”
    “Jess is like a sister to me.” And then,
thinking quickly, she added. “I want nothing more than to
congratulate the happy couple. I come bearing a wedding gift!”
    As proof, she pulled two Iberia boarding
passes from her purse and flashed them in Ana María’s direction,
much too quickly for her to make out any details.
    “After all, why honeymoon in Seville when
your very best friend on earth treats you to the romantic vacation
of a lifetime in Paris?”
    Ana María’s expression softened. “Oh, how
lovely. What a very good friend you must be.”
    “I only want what’s best for Jess,” Eve said,
nodding solemnly. “For Jess and Fernando.”
    “Well, then, of course I’ll point you in the
direction of Seville. Better than that, I’ll have my driver take
you.”
    Eve’s chest constricted at the thought of
being out on the desolate Iberian plains with the butcher of
Seville.
    “Oh no, really. I wouldn’t trouble you—or
him.”
    “It’s no trouble,” a gorgeous hunk said,
stepping from around the corner. “Hello,” he said with dark sexy
eyes and a knock-your-socks-off smile. “I’m Gustavo, and I’m free
for the afternoon.”
    Eve swallowed her tongue and stopped herself
from asking what he was doing tonight.
    “Gustavo is our darling Consuelo’s son, very
reliable and an excellent driver.”
    “Well, if you insist,” Eve said, feeling as
if she were turning the color of a very ripe plum.
    “Of course I insist,” Ana María said with a
kind smile. “But first, dear, please do come in, refresh yourself a
bit, and have a spot of tea.”
     
     
    ****

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