by Jaid Black
Whether or not Gwenyth truly loved him didn’t matter to Sam, though. He needed Gwen, couldn’t bear to be without her, so he’d take what he could get just now. They could spend the rest of their lives figuring out the rest.
Gwenyth took Sam’s silence as damning. Holding her tears at bay, she forced a smile onto her face as she handed him back the bouquet of flowers. “I can’t marry you, Sam,” she intoned gently. “I’m sorry.” With that, she pivoted on her heel with the intention of walking away.
“Goddamn it, Gwen!” Sam whirled her back around to face him. His jaw tense and rigid, he shook her shoulders slightly. “Don’t you give up on us!”
“Sam, I—”
“No!” Sam blew out a ragged breath and refused to let Gwenyth leave the chapel. He gentled his voice and pleaded to her with his eyes. “If there is anybody in this whole godforsaken world that can actually love me, Gwenyth Marie, it has to be you. And if there is anybody here who can teach me what it means, I know you’re the one.”
Gwenyth’s eyes rounded. The jade of them sparkled tremulously. “Sam, I…”
“Please, baby.” Sam shook his head helplessly. “I need you.”
Gwenyth stilled. It was nice indeed to see the depth of emotions in Sam’s eyes, to hear him say that he needed her and know he meant it, but presently she was latching onto the other thing he’d said. Was it possible? Did Sam Tremont really believe that no one loved him?
Gwenyth chewed on her lip as she considered the very real possibility that he was being honest. Even as a child, Sam had always remained somewhat aloof, joining the Jones family without ever becoming a real part of it. She had been too young to dwell on his actions overmuch, but when she looked back at it now, as a woman, she recalled a sad, scared little boy whose father was dead and whose mother had never cared for anyone but herself. Sam had relished his time with her family, perhaps even coveted it, but he had always held a part of himself back, like a poverty-stricken child gazing through the window of a candy shop, knowing he’d never be able to afford the ambrosia it offered.
And now here Gwenyth stood, next to the man she loved, and she had it within her grasp to make Sam a real member of the Jones family. To give Sam Tremont a place he could finally call home. To give him the chance to realize that there were people who loved him, not for what he could give them, but because he was simply Sam. And then, perhaps, he would realize that he loved her back.
That quickly, Gwenyth’s decision was made. She wouldn’t back away from this challenge. What had begun as a sad day, had evolved into the most profoundly poignant moment of her life. Today, here and now, she would give them both a chance to grasp for the moon and the stars together. “Yes, Sam.” She reached out for his hand and stroked it gently. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”
* * * * *
Sam gazed toward the hotel room bed that his wife lay sleeping on and felt his heartbeat pick up all over again. Gwenyth was his. Somehow or another he’d done it, he’d claimed her. And he was already loving every last minute of it.
It was strange to Sam, the small things that now held a great deal of meaning. Like watching his wife sleep. His wife, he thought possessively. No other man, for as long as Sam lived and breathed, would ever see Cupcake like this again. It aroused him just knowing it.
Hell, Sam mused, it seemed that everything had been arousing him in the whopping six hours of their marriage. He’d even gotten a hard-on from signing the hotel’s guest registry as “Mr. & Mrs. Sam Tremont”. And when they’d gotten to their suite and he’d seen the shiny glint of gold from the band on her ring finger…well, Sam could honestly say that he had loved his new wife’s body well and proper on their wedding night. Twice already to be exact.
Sam climbed into bed next to Gwenyth, wishing like he didn’t know what that they didn’t have to go back to Tampa tomorrow. He wanted Gwen to himself for just a wee bit more before being obliged to return to reality.
But Sam also realized, however reluctantly, that their honeymoon would have to wait. The senatorial election was in two days and Gwen would want to be there for Harry. Hell, Sam wanted to be there for Harry too. He was, after all, a part of the family now. That thought gave him so much pleasure it was almost painful.
Sam turned on his side and hoisted himself up on his elbow. He smiled at the sexy picture Gwenyth made. His wife was lying on her back, her lips parted ever so slightly in deep slumber. Her hair was wild and cascading over the satiny pillows, and her arms were thrown over her head, thrusting her breasts upward in invitation. Her large nipples were erect, presumably from the chill in the air-conditioned room.
Sam splayed his fingers at Gwen’s plumped up breasts and took turns rolling her hard nipples between his thumb and forefinger. He made no attempt at waking her, merely devoured the sight of her beautiful face and naked body as he lazily stroked the hard nubs that now belonged to him.
Feeling fully content for the first time in his life, Sam lowered his face onto his wife’s chest and relaxed. Within minutes, he was sound asleep.
After thirty-one years, Sam had finally come home.
Chapter 14
“Son, I oughta take a switch to your backside. Did it ever occur to you that I might wanna walk my baby girl down the aisle?”
Gwenyth shoveled a spoonful of Verlene’s chili into her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. The idea of Granddad—almost seventy-three and as skinny as a rail to boot—taking a switch to Sam’s derriere was too funny to contemplate. She cast a quick glance at her husband, bedeviling him with a dimpled grin.
Sam winked at his wife, then turned in his seat at the dining room table to face Granddad Willy. “I’m sorry ‘bout that,” he reiterated for what was probably the fifth time since dinner had begun. “Maybe we can have a ceremony here before we leave for Boston.”
Gwenyth’s spoon dropped, leaving a clanking sound in its wake. She hadn’t considered the fact that Sam was obligated to the New England Crusaders for another four years when she’d married him. Good grief. She had Jones & Jones to consider. She could hardly just pick up and trail behind her new husband.
Feeling overwhelmed with uncertainty as to what she should do, she threw a wild glance at Verlene and Harry. “Sam, I can’t move to Boston. My work is here. Work that I love, by the way.”
Sam’s spoonful of chili stopped halfway between the bowl and his mouth. “I know that, honey. I’ve only got four years left of ball playin’.” He implored her with his blue eyes. “Surely we can reach some sort of compromise until then?”
Verlene reached across the table and patted Gwenyth affectionately on the hand. “Of course you can. Y’all can live in Boston during the playing season and here the rest of the year. Jones & Jones can manage that for a few years, sugar.” Verlene elegantly shrugged her shoulders. “Besides, it hardly matters where you’re based out of. You fly to your assignments anyway.”
Gwenyth nodded. That much was true. She turned to Sam and questioned him further. “Okay, so we live in Boston from April to September for the next four years.”
“October if the Crusaders go to the World Series,” Harry interjected hopefully.
Gwenyth waved away her brother’s comment. “What about spring training, Sam? Doesn’t that take up another couple of months?”
Sam shook his head in the affirmative as he spooned a bite of chili into his mouth. He closed his eyes briefly, savoring the hot, spicy stuff. Verlene was one of the best cooks on the entire planet as far as he was concerned. “Yes it does, but it’s nothin’ to worry over. Harvey Ansley, the Crusaders’ owner, is movin’ our training camp to St. Petersburg.”
Willy picked up his bottle of beer and regarded his new grandson-in-law. “I read ‘bout that in the papers.” He waggled his eyebrows at Gwenyth. “That’s only twenty or so minutes from here by the interstate.”
Gwenyth nodded, appeased. She glanced at her husband and smiled. “I’ve never been to Boston before. I suppose there’s a lot of sightseeing to do there.”
Sam reached for another slice of Granddad Willy’s homemade bread before responding. “Definitely. A lot of old Revolutionary War stuff, pretty neat.”
“I’ll have to come visit,” Harry added. He gave Sam a thoughtful look. “I’ve never ventured that far to the north either, but American History was always one of my favorite subjects in high school.”
Sam grinned. “I remember.”
Gwenyth grew quiet as she sat back and watched Sam interact with his new family. It was like magic, what their short marriage had already done for him. He wasn’t remaining aloof, holding back that small, wary part of himself any longer. Sam was behaving as though he’d finally accepted the fact that he belonged somewhere.
And he did, Gwenyth realized. Sam belonged here, with her. He always had. It might have taken an eleven-year separation for them to figure it out, but destiny, she mused, had a funny way about it.
* * * * *
Gwenyth knocked on the door to her brother’s office in his campaign headquarters before peeking around it to make certain he was alone. “Hi Harry. Monique said you weren’t with anyone. May I come in?”
Harry had been bent over a stack of papers, reading the victory speech he hoped to deliver tomorrow night when his head shot up at the sound of Gwenyth’s voice. “Gwen!” He set the papers on top of the desk and stood up. “Come on in. Shut the door behind you.”
Gwenyth did a quick study of her brother’s office as she made her way toward the desk. The mix of Victorian and modern designs gave the room a classy, elegant feel that managed to remain affable and fun-loving at the same time. Whoever designed the office couldn’t have done a better job of complimenting Harry’s personality. “I know you’re busy with the election tomorrow. I promise to only stay a minute.”
Harry waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. Where’s my new brother-in-law?”
Gwenyth rolled her eyes and chuckled. “When last I left him, he was on his way over to our grandparents’ house. Apparently Granddad made some of his world famous chocolate chip cookies.”
Harry grinned. “Sam left your apartment for cookies?”
“Well, that and the fact that Granddad is helping him find us a house. Sam’s determined to purchase one and actually live in it before we leave for Boston.”
“That gives you five or six months. Shouldn’t be too difficult.”
“Yeah. I suppose not.”
Harry eyed his sister curiously. Gwenyth had never showed up at his campaign headquarters before so he knew the reason for her arrival now could only mean something serious was bothering her. That she seemed in no hurry to broach the topic only added to his unease. “Gwen, what is it? Why are you here?” he inquired softly.
Gwenyth’s eyes widened, momentarily startled by her brother’s accurate appraisal of the situation. She smiled slowly, remembering that few people knew her as well as Harry did. “I have something to show you.”
Harry cocked an elegant brow, but waited in silence for her to continue. Gwenyth sighed deeply as she fished into her purse and pulled out the crumpled note that had been left for her at Vantry Sportswear’s front desk. After handing it to her brother, she waited until his eyes rounded with realization before adding, “between this and the baseball crashing through my front window, I’m beginning to wonder how seriously I should start taking these threats.”
“Damn.” Harry eyed the note speculatively as he plopped back down into his chair. “I don’t like this, Gwen. I don’t like it at all.” He raised his gaze from the threatening note and regarded his sister. “What did Sam say?”
“Sam?” Gwenyth shook her head. “Are you kidding? I didn’t tell Sam, Harry. He would go through the roof.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“Before your election?” She eyed her brother knowingly.
Harry grimaced. “I see what you mean. He’ll probably do something crazy when he finds out.”
Gwenyth made an inelegant snort. “Probably? No, definitely. That’s why I’m not saying anything about it until you are already packing for D.C.”
Harry blew out a breath and ran his hands tersely through his tawny mane of hair. “I still don’t like the idea of keeping this a secret until after the election, Gwen. What kind of a brother do you take me for? You are way more important to me than a political career.”
Gwenyth smiled serenely. It was so like her brother to put everyone else’s concerns before his own. She sincerely hoped the voting populace realized what a terrific man he was. “It’s only another day, Harry.”
“Still, I want to turn this over to the detective working on your case right now. I won’t allow you to put something like this on the backburner, Gwen. Not even for me.” Harry reached for the telephone on top of his desk to make the call himself. He smiled at his sister while he waited for Detective Anderson to answer the line. “Though I do appreciate the gesture, Sis.”
* * * * *
Gwenyth dragged herself through her apartment door, wearier than she’d been in a long time. Between handing over the latest threatening note she’d received and reiterating everything that had happened the night of the NAM rally, as well as the night that the baseball had been hurled through her front window, the interview with Detective Anderson had labored on for the better part of two hours. “Sam? I’m home.”
Sam appeared almost instantly. Sporting a pair of jeans, a chef’s apron, and wielding a large spoon, he put his hands on his hips and glowered at his wife. “It’s about time, Gwen. I was worried, I’ll have you know.”
Gwenyth swallowed roughly as she took in the heady sight of Sam’s shirtless, muscled torso peeking out from behind the apron. Desire poured over her instantly. “I’m sorry, Sam. I should have called when I first realized I’d be running late.”
Sam grunted. “Where were you anyway?”
“At my brother’s campaign headquarters.” Gwenyth shed her jacket and hung it up on the coat rack. Noticing the stains smeared on Sam’s apron—proof that he’d been cooking—she realized how hungry she was. “What are we having for dinner?”
Sam’s cheeks stained a dull red. “The best I could come up with.”
Gwenyth wondered at her husband’s change in coloring, but said nothing of it. Shrugging mentally, she followed him into their apartment’s small dining room/kitchen and dropped sluggishly into her chair. “Harry’s really on edge about the election. Not that I can blame him.”
Sam snorted, shaking his head. “Can’t say I blame him either. I’d be a bundle of exposed nerves if I was him.”
Gwenyth winced. “Me too.” Her gaze remained fixed on Sam as he set a plate of food in front of her. “Your tux is pressed and ready for tomorrow night, isn’t it?”
“Yup.”
“Good.” Gwenyth picked up her fork. “How did the house hunting go?”
Sam took his place at the table next to his wife and smiled bemusedly at her. “Willy’s a trip. He had a few hellacious suggestions I had to depose him of, but other than that we got a lot done. I want to take you to see three of our potential new homes once Harry’s election is over with.”
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 fo
r 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.
