Courting Guinevere (The Davonshire Series Book 1)

by Olivia Gaines

  She had not danced in years and didn’t even think she remembered how since all she did was exercise by running and going to work. However, next to the market was a small dance studio. She popped her head in and inquired about some lessons. She signed up to take a salsa, a waltz, and a rumba class just in case he was a flash on the dance floor so she would be able to hold her own.

  Guinevere started her new dance classes, which met twice a week. The instructor suggested she start with salsa and to her surprise, she was actually having a great deal of fun, so much so that she didn’t notice that another week had slipped past and a postcard was arriving every three to four days. The next card was postmarked from Taiwan.

  你好嗎 ?

  In her mind she reviewed all of the people she had come into contact with over the past three weeks, and none spoke Taiwanese. She had never considered herself to be a racist or leading a sheltered life, but she was starting to think she needed to get out more.

  Ang, who worked the night shift in her lab, passed by, saw the card, and said, “Cool, who do you know in Taiwan?”

  Shocked, she turned and took a full look at him, seeing him through fresh eyes. She had never really paid much attention to what nationality he was; she only wanted him for his work. “Ang, can you translate this Taiwanese?”

  He smiled and said, “Actually, that isn’t a language. The Taiwanese people speak Mandarin and this just says, “How are you?”

  Guinevere thanked him and three days later brought him another card postmarked from Taiwan that said, “I miss you.” Before Ang could open his mouth to ask a question, she politely dismissed him after giving him a gift card to the Olive Garden for his help. She missed the biting remark that Ang said as he walked away…”I don’t even like Italian food.”

  The following week, she received two postcards from Shanghai, both written in English. The first said, “I think of you constantly” and the second “Can’t wait to talk to you.”

  The following week there were no postcards, but there was a package. The week was going to be very hectic and she had very little if any time to do anything but prep work on GGU285. She placed the package in her bag and told herself that she would get to it later.

  The dance classes had progressed well and she also signed up for a yoga class that had done wonders for her stress levels and her circulation. Another three days passed before she even remembered the package. Guinevere was having a cup a tea and walking around her condo in DJD’s shirt when she remembered the brown wrapped small box and opened the package.

  The plain wrapper yielded a wonderful surprise of Mikimoto pearls.

  Did he get this from some bootlegger or did he pay premium for them?

  Negative.

  Stop it!

  He sent me Mikimoto pearls. Her sister was going to crap her pants. She wouldn’t tell her, she wouldn’t wear them to work … she would sleep in them to get her oils into the calcified orbs, along with his shirt. The smell of him was wearing off and in the package it just said he was heading to Vietnam, then Indonesia, and then on to the Philippines.

  Her screen pinged and she ran to check her email. But this time he was actually online.

  Gawain: Damn, I miss you.

  Guinevere: I miss you, too.

  Gawain: Trying to wrap this up.

  Guinevere: How much longer?

  Gawain: Maybe another week.

  Guinevere: That’s a week too long.

  Gawain: I know….

  Gawain: Did you get the package?

  Guinevere: I’m wearing them now.

  Gawain: Along with my shirt?

  Guinevere: Hmmmm … yes….

  Gawain: Please, please, turn on the camera…. No sound, not ready to hear the voice. It may make me quit my job and head to Jersey.

  Guinevere: The camera?

  Gawain: Just give me the shot of you from the neck down…. No sound okay?

  Guinevere: Wait one….

  Gawain: With baited breath….

  Guinevere: Can you see me?

  Gawain: Yes…. Thank you….

  Guinevere: Your turn.

  Gawain: Neck down … to?

  Guinevere: Hmmmmm…. Goateee to belly button.

  Gawain: Wait one….

  Guinevere: Where’s your shirt?

  Gawain: You are wearing it….

  Guinevere: Damn…. Now that is sexy….

  Gawain: I can’t stay on long…. I just needed to touch base and know you are still there.

  Guinevere: I am here…. Where are you?

  Gawain: Ho Chi Minh City

  Guinevere: As in Vietnam?

  Gawain: Yes…. Leaving tomorrow.

  Guinevere: Headed to????

  Gawain: Indonesia….

  Guinevere: Then are you coming home?

  Gawain: Depends….

  Guinevere: On what….

  Gawain: Is home you or San Francisco?

  Guinevere: Home is where the heart is….

  Gawain: I am finding that my heart seems to be more and more with you.

  Guinevere: Get back to the US safely, then we will decide where home will be.

  Gawain: Until then….

  And he was gone.

  She now knew several more things about him. She now knew his race and he knew hers and had not commented. Only showing him her neck with the opened top of his shirt, she had not revealed her bosom, but he was able to see that she did not fill up his shirt. She also was able to see that he was physically fit.

  He wanted to come back to her.

  He wanted to call her home, but, most of all Gawain missed her as much as she missed him.

  27

  The Weary Knight

  The trip to Asia had proven to be very successful and Gawain’s confidence was back up as he boarded a flight back to the United States. His sister had been in Hong Kong the week before for Fashion Week and he had a wonderful time just hanging out with her. It felt odd to be back in her world of glamour and glitz. That part of his life he had closed and moved away from. Being back in it, even for an evening, gave him reason to evaluate his personal progress.

  Several young models flirted with him and one even volunteered to pleasure him in a back room after the show. Instead, he sat down with the young ingénue and talked about potential career paths, providing her some of the same guidance he had given to his sister. The last was surprised that he took the time to speak with her and Gawain gave her one last piece of advice, “This is a dangerous business, but never be afraid to use your brains first. Most importantly, think each decision through to make sure your choice is beneficial in the long run.” Vanity returned to find the young lady hugging her brother. In a platonic way. She walked over to Gawain and pinched him.

  “Ouch, what did I do?”

  Vanity squinted her eyes, “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t taken over by aliens or something.”

  What was with the alien takeover idea? Even though she and Will are continents apart, they are still so eerily similar.

  It was a pleasant affair and he felt lucky to have gotten his sister’s discount on the pearls he’d sent to Guinevere. Gawain had wanted so badly to discuss the current situation with his sister, as well as talk to her about Guinevere but realized it was too soon. Next week the whole family would be in Phoenix for his mother’s birthday and one of the annual fishing outings with his dad.

  His father was a no-nonsense kind of man who would not understand romance in the modern world. He certainly would not understand why his handsome firstborn had relegated himself to online dating when he had dated actresses and models. His mother would question why he felt the need to court a Ms. Lonely Hearts halfway across the continent. Wilfred, the hopeless romantic, would want to know the details so that he could write about it in his next novel.

  Gawain just wanted someone to love him and to share his life building a grand enterprise. He wanted what his parents had for the past 50 years. He wanted a ride or die chick, one who understood
his needs were not all related to his stomach or sex drive.

  He had been back in the US for almost four days and had not made an effort to contact Guinevere. The flight from Hong Kong was long. He was approached by several women on the plane to join them in the Johnny for a mile high mid-flight ride and he nearly cursed one very sexually aggressive woman out. “Do I look like a giant fuck toy to you, lady? You don’t know me. Go sit down somewhere!” But it wasn’t just the women on the plane. It was as if a memo had gone out that he was trying to get off the market. His mind was only on one woman. Guinevere.

  They were five months into the online dating game, and he wasn’t so sure about it anymore. There weren’t many things he was certain about anymore when it came to his life. He had no interest in other women or one-night stands or 15-minute stress relievers. His quest was for a life with a wife. He wanted to be a father.

  Arriving at SFO, he lumbered to the employee parking lot, located his car, chunked in his belongings, and trudged home. He stopped by the post office just out of habit to check his box. What he found inside shocked, surprised, and even elated him!

  There were six postcards, each one dated a week apart, along with a small box and an envelope. He scooped the items out of the square container and hurried home so he could enjoy them in private like a diabetic with a box of Godiva chocolates.

  He hit the shower first to remove the scent of Asia from his skin and grabbed a cold beer from the fridge and a bag of pork rinds. Taking out his laptop, he sat it on the counter but did not turn it on. He put the items on the desk and organized them by date. The first item was the box, which had arrived first. He opened it to find three books: The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison, Wuthering Heights, and The Complete Works of Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

  What is this, her summer reading list? He moved the books to the side.

  Next came postcard number one: “I am missing you.” Third was an envelope. He opened it and inside he found three photos. The first one was the door of a dance studio. The next was a hand opening the door of a dance studio. The third was of a pair of feet in high-heeled red sandals, caught in motion on the dance floor.

  The last item in the envelope was a handwritten note, in a very feminine script which read:

  “I would love to dance with you, so I am learning how.”

  Gawain felt choked up as he read the last three postcards; each held a simple message stronger than the one before:

  Believe in me, but trust in us.

  I think we have something.

  I want to hear your voice.

  As he headed toward his office to get his pen, the phone rang. “Junior,” his father was on the other line, “I got a sweet deal on the charter boat for our fishing trip. Can you get here a day earlier? I’m anxious to get on the water. I have some new lures and some great bait.”

  “I think I can manage that, Dad,” Gawain told his father. He could almost hear his dad smiling though the phone.

  As soon as he finished the call with his father, his sister called. “Junior, did she like the pearls?”

  Little sis knew him too well and realized quickly that if he was giving jewelry, this was someone who had registered on his karmic radar. He did not want to rush Vanity off the phone, but she too wanted him to come in a day earlier than the fishing trip to discuss the latest best seller she had had given him in Hong Kong to read.

  He was not going to make it onto the computer tonight. As soon as he hung up with his sister, his brother called.

  “Hey, Big Bro, you were gone like forever man… I almost missed your face,” Wilfred told him with a great deal of sarcasm in his voice.

  “Does that mean you wish to see my face?” Gawain asked him hesitantly.

  ”Yeah, it would be cool if you came out a day early. Dad is working with a new charter service. He has new lures and …” Wilfred’s voice trailed off. Gawain picked up on it quickly that something was amiss.

  “Will, is something wrong?”

  The line was quiet. Followed by a deep sigh. “I’m sorry, Junior.”

  “Sorry for what?”

  “I don’t know. I just, I guess… I ahhh …”

  “For a man who writes for a living, you seem to be having a great deal of trouble saying what’s on your mind,” Gawain said tenuously.

  “I love you, Junior. Your trips to the ranch mean a lot to me. I missed you, that’s all. I mean you were gone for almost two months,” Wilfred said in a low voice.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Will, and if you try to kiss me, I will shoot you,” he said, laughing, and hung up the phone.

  Right now, his time was in demand from every angle. Although he would get to Phoenix early, he still had a lot of work to do on the new farmers he had found and contracts that needed finalizing. The final reports were already complete and had been forwarded to corporate headquarters in New York.

  Since he was not expected in Chicago until the end of the month, he called Chuck to pick him up at a local airfield to fly him to his brother’s ranch tomorrow. He thought it would be cool to have some time together before heading to Phoenix. Maybe some family time was what he needed to put some things into perspective.

  28

  The Sound of Your Voice

  Guinevere was going insane. She had not heard from Gawain in two weeks and did not know if he was back in the US, on his way back from Asia, alive, dead, or in a hospital in the Philippines with amnesia or malaria!

  You are thinking negative.

  And now she was furious. If you cared for someone, you did not do this to them. She was no longer willing to second-guess herself and so she threw all her energy into her work and the completion of GGU285.

  That night she left her computer on and sat down and stared at the screen. She wanted to pray, but she felt selfish for asking for something so personal. Then her screen pinged.

  Gawain: 602-555-1285

  Guinevere: That’s a Phoenix exchange.

  Gawain: My private line at home.

  Guinevere: In Phoenix?

  Gawain: I am at my parents’.

  Guinevere: Calling now

  He answered on the third ring with a sultry deep baritone that almost made her wet her pants. “Hello,” he said.

  Guinevere replied, “How is my knight in tarnished armor?”

  The melody of her voice made his heart skip a beat and he lay back on the bed feeling like he was sixteen all over again. The conversation picked up where they had left off. Gawain told her about his travels, adventures, and the items that were purchased for her that would be mailed later. Guinevere spoke of her dance lessons and her co-workers treatment of her during his much-noted absence, but neither touched on what was next or when they would meet.

  She commented, “After such a long trip, home should seem like comfort.”

  Gawain spoke softly, “Yes, my dad has this annual fishing trip with the men in the family while the women do girly stuff with my mom for her birthday.” He mentioned his parents had been married for 50 years and Guinevere mentioned hers had been wedded for 38 and lived in North Carolina.

  “My sister and I are the bane of their grand-childless existence.”

  “We can change that …” he said. Where did that come from?

  He heard her breath catch before she replied, “That’s your third mention of children.”

  The cat was out of the bag and running around the room, spraying the walls. May as well go all in.

  “My father is about to hit 70 and my mother is in her mid-60s. I need to do the same, so they can at least play with the grandkids before I have to change my kids’ and my parents’ diapers, too.”

  He could hear the laughter in her voice. “That’s just messed up, but in so many ways, it’s true. My parents are getting up there, too.”

  He was quiet for a moment, allowing the words to penetrate where he was about to take the conversation next.

  Gawain spoke slowly, “The woman in my life will have to understand that I would want
to start a family right away.”

  “What does right away mean to you, Gawain?”

  “It means on my wedding night, I am giving it the ole college try to make DJD 3.”

  Guinevere was slightly uncomfortable and tried to steer the conversation in a different direction. “So you are a junior?”

  “Yes, and I would like to name him after my father and me, and I will call him Trey. The other three you can name.” He started to laugh.

  “Three huh? Stair-steppers?” Guinevere asked.

  She could almost hear him smiling through the phone. “No, take a break in between, but the first two hopefully within the first four years.”

  She had gotten quiet and he was reluctant to move forward in the conversation. He changed the subject, “You know, Guinevere, I was shocked at all of the changes that have been made in Vietnam. It is so modern now, with four and five star hotels.”

  She was still quiet. He asked, “Would you like to talk again later?”

  Still silent, but he could hear her breathing. There was no skirting the issue. “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking you are asking a lot, but promising little,” she finally replied.

  He found himself frowning and shaking his head, trying to figure out what the hell she was thinking. “Stop, slow down for minute and talk this through with me so I can know where your mind is headed.”

  He could almost hear her pursing her lips. “So I would be the one to give up my career to have your brood?”

  “No, if you want to still work, I’ll stay home with the kids,” he replied, which seemed like a logical answer.

  “So, I can support you while you play Xbox and Playstation all day and I come home to a sink full of dirty dishes?” her voice had turned to anger.

  He found himself laughing. “I can fully support us for the rest of our lives if necessary, or I can work and you stay home, but would you resent me?”