One Perfect Man. Lynda Sandoval

and throwing in a mental surcharge because she’d be forced to work with teenagers, she arrived at a sum.

      Erica crossed her arms and leveled him with a cool, all-business stare. “I would have to work Hope in between my other responsibilities. Evenings, weekends. Sporadically. You might even have to bring her to Santa Fe a few times.”

      “No problem.”

      “Five thousand dollars.” She let that sink in. “Plus all expenses, including my travel.”

      He blinked once but didn’t balk. She watched his Adam’s apple rise and fall slowly. “Done.”

      She frowned, arms dropping to her sides. “Excuse me?”

      “I said, that’s fine. Five thou plus expenses. You’re hired.” He offered his hand for her to shake.

      Instead, she clasped her own together and implored him to be reasonable. “Tomás, do you realize how much this party is going to end up costing you? For one evening’s entertainment? What about…her college tuition? What about—?”

      “Let me worry about that.”

      She felt trapped, panicked by the thought of what she might have gotten herself into. She couldn’t afford to take on another responsibility, and she didn’t want to spend the next four months dealing with adolescent angst. Her heart raced as she struggled to come up with alternatives. “But…you don’t need someone with my qualifications to plan this. This is a family event.”

      “So’s a wedding. You plan those.”

      “B-but…I’m a stranger.”

      “An event planner,” he corrected. “Which is why I’ve come to you.”

      “What about asking family? An aunt, or—?”

      “No aunts.”

      “Or…or a friend, or—”

      “Erica—” he took her hand between both of his “—all I have wanted for the past fourteen years is to make my daughter feel special. Cherished. Can you understand that?”

      “Sure, but—”

      “I want memories of this night to resonate in her soul for the rest of her life.” His eyes searched her face. “You’re a professional. From you, I’ll get perfection. As close as possible, at least.”

      She couldn’t argue that. In fact, he’d managed to shoot down her arguments almost quicker than she could launch them. She bit her bottom lip.

      “I said I’d pay your five-thousand-dollar fee. What’s the problem?”

      Cornered. Erica hung her head and thought about it logically. What was the problem? She’d gambled naming that fee, and he’d called her bluff. The only stand-up response was to accept the assignment, especially considering the man hadn’t a single qualm about paying. Five thousand dollars would be a great boost to her savings. She’d be several steps closer to striking out on her own. How hard could it be, after all, to plan a quinceañera? She peered at the man standing before her, so still, anticipating agreement, she could tell. She had to give him credit for sticking to his goals.

      What the hell, it was his money, and if he wanted to hand it over, she should be willing to take it. She could easily earn five thousand dollars planning a wedding, so she shouldn’t suffer a moment of guilt for demanding the same for this job. A quinceañera was nearly as elaborate, and her time was at a premium. Feeling better about it, she took his hand. “Okay, Tomás. You’ve got yourself a deal.”

      He released a breath and clasped her hand between his. “Thank you. So much. You won’t regret this, Erica.”

      She laughed. “Remind me of that when I’m going nuts trying to plan this festival, all the weddings, and Hope’s party.”

      “Can I…” he swallowed “…do you need the money up front?”

      “No. I generally take payment the night of the event.” She didn’t miss his look of relief. The guilt tried to resurface, but she pushed it away. The man had agreed to pay. “I’ll need your approval for expenses, though. Those I’ll bill as they occur.”

      “No problem. And listen.” His tone lowered to a gentle, almost conspiratorial purr. “Go wild. If I have to assume a little debt for this thing, I’m okay with that. Just make it—”

      “Perfect?”

      He smiled. “Too much to ask?”

      “Well, it’s a tall order.” She wish he’d keep those off-limits dimples to himself. Gay man or not, they made her stomach flop. “But I’ll do my best for your daughter, Tomás.”

      “That’s all I’ve ever tried to do. I wouldn’t ask more from you,” he said, his words soft and…slightly troubled?

      They spent the next few moments exchanging phone and fax numbers, addresses and e-mail information—conduits to modern business function.

      Feeling calmer, or at least more resigned, Erica extracted her PalmPilot from her briefcase. “I’d like to meet Hope as soon as possible.” She consulted her planning calendar. “I’ll be heading to Santa Fe tomorrow morning, but I’ll be back next week. Monday. I’ve actually rented a place here just until the festival is over.”

      “You’ll be spending that much time here?”

      “I’ll be back and forth, but I do want to keep a close eye on the site.” She shrugged. “Short-term rental was cheaper than a hotel, and more convenient.”

      “Well, that’s great. It will be nice having you close.”

      Her stomach tightened, and she chose to ignore the comment. “What works for you, dinnerwise?”

      He seemed to take her lead, turning all business. “Monday?”

      She shook her head. “Actually, that’s my moving day, so probably not. Tuesday?”

      “Hope has a softball game that evening. Wednesday?” he offered. “Dinner. At our house, so Ruby can meet you, too.”

      Erica glanced up sharply. “Ruby?”

      “My grandmother.” He grinned. “She says it makes her feel younger to be called by her first name, so we humor her.”

      “Sounds like my kind of woman.” Erica looked forward to meeting her. “Wednesday looks clear.” She glanced at the business card he’d given her, which listed an address in Rociada, AKA out in the boonies.

      He seemed to read her mind. Again. “If you’d like, I can pick you up.”

      Not good. She always preferred to have her own transportation at hand, her own escape hatch, if you will. “Thanks, but I’ll drive. Just give me good, clear directions.”

      “No problem. Six too early? We’re more than happy to work our dinner hour around you.”

      She smiled genuinely at his consideration, thinking how nice it would be to know someone in town. And now that she knew his preferences, it would be easier to kick this unexpected and futile attraction she felt. “Six it is. Thank you.”

      “Bueno. Come hungry. I’m a whiz in the kitchen.”

      “You’ve got a deal.”

      Tomás headed for the door but stopped with his hand on the knob. He turned. “Erica? There is, ah, one other thing you should probably know.”

      Uh-oh. His words put her on instant alert. “Yes?”

      His mouth spread into a slow smile, almost as though he knew the effect it had on her stomach, almost as though he liked knowing it. “You misunderstood me earlier,” he drawled, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

      “Oh? How so?”

      “I’m…not gay. Not even a little bit.”