Gwenyth nodded. “Sounds good.” She absently glanced down at her plate, then noticed for the first time what Sam had prepared for their dinner. All of a sudden, she understood why he’d gotten a little embarrassed over it. She bit down on her lip to keep from laughing.
Sam noticed his wife’s expression and reddened all over again. “I’ll have you know I spent the last hour makin’ this, Gwenyth Marie.” His voice was gruff and testy. “Don’t make fun.”
Gwenyth smiled into Sam’s eyes as she reached for his face and smoothed her hand down the length of it. That he had tried to cook for her, a man who knew nothing about such things, brought a feeling of utter joy to her. Sam might not be ready to admit his love for her aloud, but his actions spoke plainly to Gwenyth. “It’s the most special meal I’ve ever had, Sam.”
Sam met Gwenyth’s gaze and saw the tenderness for him shining there. His tense muscles relaxed. The color of embarrassment left his cheeks. “I cooked it special for you,” he admitted shyly. “For our first night together in our apartment.”
Gwenyth leaned over and kissed the tip of her husband’s nose. “I love you, Sam Tremont.”
Sam crushed his mouth onto his wife’s and kissed her thoroughly and passionately. The way she’d looked at him when she’d said those words made him almost believe it.
“Go on and eat,” he gently chastised when he raised his lips from Gwenyth’s. “Don’t want supper to get cold.”
Gwenyth smiled brilliantly at Sam before turning her attention to her plate. She ate with relish that night, savoring each bite as though it was the greatest gift she’d ever been given. It occurred to Gwen as she chewed thoughtfully on her fare, that more couples should start out their married life with a feast of Spaghetti-Os.
Chapter 15
Gwenyth clenched her teeth in anger. Another threatening note. This one, having been left for her at the front desk of the Hyatt where her brother’s final campaign dinner was underway, was more specific than the last two.If your brother wins, you die. The note had been signed, of course, NAM.
Gwenyth slipped the note into her purse, determined that no one—especially Sam or Harry—would read this piece of idiocy until after the election results were in. She refused to allow a bunch of simpering jerks to ruin what could very well turn out to be the highlight of her brother’s life. Taking a breath to calm down, Gwenyth did an about face and sauntered gracefully back into the spacious ballroom that had been reserved for the festive occasion of election night in the Jones camp.
Gwenyth quickly assessed what everyone in the ballroom who meant anything to her was about. Harry was in his element, working the crowd with the boyish enthusiasm she adored so much. Sam was off to the side laughing it up with a football player friend from the Tampa Bay Bucs who had done a bit of rallying for Harry. Verlene and Willy were cloistered at the buffet table, where Granddad was inspecting the offerings with a magnifying glass. Candy was chatting with a fellow author while simultaneously casting conspicuous glances toward Brian Goodman, who to everyone’s surprise except Gwen’s, had flown in for the affair. Brian was pretending to be interested in what the man speaking to him was saying, but it was obvious he was having a hard time pulling his gaze away from Candy long enough to catch much of the one-sided conversation.
When Candy’s gaze at last wandered over to Gwenyth, she made her excuses to her company and strolled toward her. Gwen grinned knowingly at her best friend, finding it highly amusing how desperate Candy seemed to keep Brian at bay. Apparently the author was much more at ease with the concept of romance in her books than she was in reality. “Hey, Can. I finally managed to find the time to finishThe English Duke and the American Convenience Store Clerk. It was terrific.”
“Yeah? You really liked it?”
“Definitely. Lord Gregory was so hot.”
Candy tore her gaze away from Brian. “Yeah, hot,” she muttered absently.
Gwenyth smiled. She felt a matchmaking scheme taking form in her near future. “So how’s the latest novel coming along? Did you write the scene yet?”
That garnered Candy’s attention like nothing else could. Complain as she might about her career, she dearly loved to talk about her projects. “Yes. And you were right. Missionary worked really well in this instance.”
Gwenyth looked thoughtful. “It somehow seems appropriate for a nun.”
“Former nun. She left the sanctuary of the church after discovering that Father Donotello was really a vampire.”
Gwenyth raised a brow. “I see.”
Candy inclined her head toward Granddad Willy and giggled. “Look Gwen. Willy is actually stealing food and slipping it into the jacket of his tux.”
Gwenyth groaned aloud. “If Harry catches him, he’ll have Granddad’s head served on the very platter he’s thieving from.”
Candy laughed her throaty laugh. “It’s okay. Verlene is on the scene. I believe she just slapped Willy’s hand and scolded him thoroughly.”
Gwenyth smiled. She couldn’t help it. She could envision all too well just how diligently Granddad was getting chewed out by the family matriarch.
“So Gwen,” Candy mused, changing the subject, “how does it feel to be Mrs. Sam ‘The Slam’ Tremont?” She attempted to blow a bubble, then frowned when she remembered she’d spit out her gum in time for the campaign dinner. “Pretty cool, huh?”
At the mention of her husband’s name, Gwenyth immediately sought Sam out in the crowd with her gaze. He was still in the same place, Brian having joined him and the football player for a glass of champagne. The three of them were talking animatedly, apparently jesting back and forth. The sight warmed Gwenyth to her toes. “Yeah,” she admitted bemusedly, “pretty cool.”
The two women ogled the trio of good-looking athletes openly. “Wow,” Candy breathed, “have you ever seen so much hunky manhood standing in one corner?”
Gwenyth was looking only at her husband when she replied in the negative. “No. I can’t say that I have.”
Brian caught Candy’s heated stare and grinned at her knowingly. Candy immediately whirled around and pretended not to notice. “The results should be in within a half hour,” she blurted out nervously. “I truly hope Harry wins.”
