Super! Bye-bye now! Ginger slipped out, closed the guest-room door, and stepped on to the patio. She raised her chin, shut her eyes, and breathed, damn glad to be out of that stifling room and into the fresh evening air!

A breeze brushed over Ginger's bare skin, followed by a strange electrical shiver that raced through her limbs. Ginger opened her eyes. She peered up the stone walkway leading from the main house to the guesthouse, squinting into the shadows. Her shivering intensified. She knew she wasn't alone.

Is someone there? she whispered. Hello?

There was a stirring behind the rose trellis. The wedding photographer stepped from the shadows. Ginger gasped.

His dark eyes smoldered. One of his hands fell comfortably at his side, and the other rested casually in the pocket of his impeccable suit. His lips parted ever so slightly as he smiled. In a heavily accented whisper, he said, I have been waiting for you.

Ginger gasped again, but she couldn't seem to get any air.

Me has robado el corazon.

Blackness flooded her vision. She knew she was about to faint. And as her knees buckled beneath her, Ginger had two simultaneous thoughts: I really should have ordered this dress in a bigger size, and I sure wish I'd paid more attention in Spanish class.

Technically, Ginger Garrison wasn't the first bridesmaid to faint into the arms of Lucio Montevez. That had occurred nearly twenty years earlier in Las Alpujarras, at Lucio's own wedding, when his young bride's best friend went into an apoplectic fit of jealousy. The girl had managed to call Lucio a hairy wild boar and pound her fists on his chest before she collapsed, which added some levity to the ill-fated event. Sadly, the last time Lucio returned to Spain, he'd encountered the onetime bridesmaid on the main street of his village. He said hello. She spat in the dirt near his feet and continued walking.