by Jaid Black
Sam’s eyes widened considerably. Suddenly, he felt nervous. “Come again?”
Gwenyth’s hands balled into fists as she thrust them to her sides. She’d already taken the cat out of the bag, so to speak, so there was little use in backing away from the conversation now. “A baby needs to hear that they are loved, Sam. Will you tell our son or daughter how much they mean to you, or will you refuse to share those feelings with them, the same as you refuse to share them with me?”
Sam flinched at Gwenyth’s accusatory tone. She had the right of it, he knew, for they’d been married almost two months and he’d yet to say the binding words to her. Why that was, he had no idea. Oh, he’d been cautious in the beginning, not wanting to verbally relinquish all claims to his heart until he knew for certain that Gwenyth felt the same way about him as he felt about her, but he’d figured out that she did weeks ago.
A fact that never failed to amaze Sam. He had flown the coop and stayed out of Gwenyth’s life for eleven years, then sauntered back in as bold as he pleased. He had coerced and manipulated his wife into speaking her vows at the altar, yet he was as sure of her love now as he was certain that the sun would rise tomorrow morning.
Sam released Gwenyth’s hands in favor of scratching his chin. He took in his wife’s expression—a curious mixture of resignation and sorrow—and felt his stomach flip over. What a coward he had been! And now when he wanted to shout it to the heavens that he was in love with his wife, he was afraid Gwenyth would think he was saying it only because of the baby they’d made together and not because he genuinely felt it. “Cupcake, we need to talk.”
Gwenyth unballed her hands, then folded her arms under her breasts and nodded. “Okay, so talk.”
“It’s not easy for me to admit when I’m wrong, Gwen, but I’m admittin’ it here and now. I was wrong.” Sam took a deep breath, expelled it, and plowed on. “If you even get it in your mind that I’m sayin’ what I’m ‘bout to say because of our child, then I’m goin’ to turn you over my knee and spank you because that’s not the case.”
Sam unfolded Gwenyth’s arms from her chest and picked each hand up for a quick, but meaningful kiss. “I love you, Gwenyth Marie Tremont. I’ve loved you since I was a boy, I never stopped lovin’ you all those eleven years while we were apart, and I’ll go on lovin’ you for the rest of my life.” Sam squeezed her hands as if afraid to let go. His eyes begged her, pleaded with her to understand. “Please tell me you believe me, Gwen. I love you so much, baby. I’ve been a fool and I know it, but I’m a fool who loves you.”
Gwenyth’s breath caught in her throat. She searched her husband’s eyes and found nothing but earnestness there. How could she not believe him? She’d been certain of Sam’s feelings for her since the day they’d spoken their vows in Las Vegas. Maybe even before that. Her self-confidence might have wavered a time or two, but deep down she’d always known that Sam cared about her. And if her husband was now able to admit to love, then she must be doing something right as his wife. Apparently he had finally figured out that her love was unconditional.
Gwenyth clutched Sam’s chin in between both hands and smiled tremulously at him. “I believe you. And I love you too, Sam Tremont. From the age of five until the day I die, I love you.”
“Oh, sweetheart…”
“Yes, Sam?” Gwenyth gazed into his eyes. She sensed that Sam had more to say and found herself unwilling to wait to hear it. She wanted to know everything he felt, to relish hearing the words, to—
“I’ve got a bigtime hard-on,” he rasped.
Gwenyth blinked, her smile faltering somewhat. “Y-You what?”
Sam pressed his wife’s hands against his erection and groaned. “All this love talk is makin’ me hot, Cupcake.”
Gwenyth’s jaw went slack. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. In the end, she opted for the former. Throwing her head back, Gwenyth laughed harder and more merrily than she’d laughed in a long time.
“What the hell is so funny?!”
“Nothing.” Gwenyth shook her head and giggled as she wiped tears of laughter from her eyes. “Nothing at all.” She kissed her husband on the jaw, a gigantic smooching sound left in its wake. “Come down here on the sleeping bag, Sam. All this love talk is getting me hot too.”
Sam didn’t need to be asked twice when it came to making love with his wife—one of his finer points as a husband, he was always telling Gwen. Within a minute, he had them both naked and panting. Seconds later, he thrust forward, seating himself fully into his wife’s heat with one velvet plunge. “Mmm baby, I love this pussy—my pussy.”
Sam rode Gwenyth’s body lovingly, each stroke and rotation of his hips designed to make her wild. He succeeded admirably. When she arched her back and screamed her exultation to the rafters of their new home, Sam followed quickly on her heels; he threw his head back and depleted himself into her body.
With a satisfied growl, Sam heaved his heavy body from off of his wife’s and flopped onto the sleeping bag beside her. Pulling her toward him, he burrowed Gwenyth into the cradle of his arm and sighed happily.
Sam smiled up at the ceiling. This love business was pretty damn cool.
Chapter 21
Nothing on earth could have made Gwenyth happier than hearing Sam say I love you. She constantly reminded herself of that fact over the next few weeks as his style of loving made him more fiercely protective than normal. Normal, she thought grimly, was pretty bad unto itself. More than normal, therefore, was downright suffocating the life out of her.
Added into the equation was the fact that she was pregnant. To hear Sam tell it, or to see the way he treated her, one would mistakenly believe that Gwenyth Jones Tremont was the first woman in history to carry a baby. Every time she turned around the man was shoving vitamins down her throat or taking her temperature—she had no idea why he did that—or making her lie down so he could read books about ancient Egypt to her womb. She could only hope the baby wasn’t as bored as she was.
It was bad enough when Sam acted up at home, but when he started in with his antics while they were on location for Jones & Jones, specifically during the cataloguing of the “Touch Me” line in Aix-en-Provence, Gwenyth was livid. How could she expect anyone to take her role as a professional photographer seriously if her coddling husband was always trailing behind her, treating her like a china doll? “Take your vitamins, Cupcake,” he would nag at her in front of others. Or, “don’t forget to guzzle down that water. Clean urine is happy urine, I always say.”
And then there was the time that Sam had shown copies of her ultrasound pictures to everybody on the set. Gwenyth still shuddered at the memory. Her husband had actually discussed her placenta and amniotic fluid with virtual strangers.
Worse yet, Sam had pointed out a tiny little protrusion on the baby’s photographic image that he had insisted was a sign his son would be as well-endowed as his father. Red-faced, Gwenyth had reminded him that Dr. DuBois wouldn’t be able to determine the baby’s gender for another couple of weeks. Sam had waved away her comment insisting that a father knows more than a mere doctor. Luckily, a few men on the set had agreed with him, including Gwenyth’s employer, an arrogant French entrepreneur who was known in the world of fashion as Martel. Whether that was his first name or last, no one was certain.
Verlene had found the situation with Sam genuinely amusing, to which Gwenyth had gritted her teeth. She had done so much teeth grinding as of late that she once swore to Grandmama that her incisors would soon be dwindled down to nubs. Verlene had simply patted her on the back and assured her that all expectant fathers who cared for their wives behaved as Sam did.
Expectant mother or not, Gwenyth was overcome with relief when the “Touch Me” shoot was over and they were free to go back home. She couldn’t recall another moment in recent history when she had experienced such a feeling of gratitude as when the plane finally landed and they were safely ensconced back on American soil—where her overbearing husband could only humili
ate her to a certain degree. Even the fact that Sam had insisted the flight attendants listen to the baby’s heartbeat with the stethoscope he carried around everywhere they went dimmed in its magnitude at the joy of being back in Florida.
Gwenyth could deal with Sam on her own turf. Besides, the citizens of Hyde Park were already quite used to her husband’s shenanigans. None of her neighbors so much as batted an eyelash when he preached about happy urine or discussed amniotic fluid with them. Talk about being jaded.
The following day, Gwenyth perused the non-perishable food items on the shelves as she pushed the shopping cart down the grocery store aisle. Sam was accompanying her—as usual—and he was at it again, wearing on her already raw nerves—as usual. She rolled her eyes mentally. And to think she actually had another five months of this to look forward to.
Gwenyth was counting the days until spring training began so Sam would ease up on her a bit. Not having anything to do with the daylight hours besides tag along behind her was turning her husband into a damned nuisance.
“Look at this honey,” Sam enthused as he raced to catch up with her, “these jars of baby food are on sale, eight for four dollars.”
Gwenyth quirked an eyebrow. She was only four months pregnant. What in the world did they need jars of baby food for? She was about to tell Sam as much when she paid closer attention to his expression and realized how excited he truly was. It would only be cruel of her to say anything that would rain on his daddy-to-be parade. “Good work, sweetheart. I’m sure the baby will love it.” Gwenyth smiled at the look of delight on Sam’s face. Inwardly, she sighed. It was simply impossible to stay angry with the man.
“So,” Gwenyth asked in what she hoped was a mildly curious tone, “when does spring training begin?”
“What, honey?” Sam threw a rubber ducky into the cart. “Oh spring trainin’?” He shrugged. “A couple of weeks.”
Gwenyth’s muscles relaxed. There was an end in sight.
“I sure am gonna miss bein’ with you all day long, Gwenyth Marie.” Sam bent down and kissed his wife on the lips. “I love you so much, Cupcake.”
Guilty feelings immediately ensued. Here her husband was telling her how much he was going to miss her and she was mentally checking off the days until he’d leave her in peace.
“Tomorrow, I want us to go enroll Junior into that fancy-shmanzy preschool that teaches kids how to speak Japanese before they’re three. It’s never too soon to think about our baby’s education, Gwen.”
On the other hand, what was there to feel guilty about? Grinding her teeth, Gwenyth regarded her husband. “Sam, don’t you think it’s a bit early to start worrying over things like that?”
“Nope.”
“Well, perhaps I don’t want our child to speak Japanese!”
“What’s wrong with speakin’ Japanese?”
Gwenyth’s face colored when an old acquaintance pushed his shopping cart by during the peak of their argument. Terry Yokomoto raised his brows but said nothing. Gwenyth inclined her head. “Hi Terry.”
“Hi Gwen.”
Furious, Gwenyth swung around and turned on Sam faster than a rabid dog. “Can you please keep your voice down!” she whispered vehemently, making certain Terry was well out of hearing range. “I am so embarrassed! I’ll never be able to face Terry again! He probably thinks I’m prejudiced!”
Sam crossed his arms over his chest and eyed his wife. “Perhaps you are.”
“What?!”
“Perhaps you are prejudiced.” Sam splayed his hands at his sides. “I can’t see any other reason why you’d be so dead set against Junior speakin’ Japanese. It’s a fine language. A little twangy, but as a southern woman, that shouldn’t be too difficult to get used to.”
Gwenyth’s nostrils flared to wicked proportions. “I. Have. Nothing. Against. Speaking. Japanese.”
“Baby, why is your face all red?” Sam clapped the back of his hand to his wife’s forehead to check for fever. “And you’re bitin’ your tongue. Good lord, there’s a tic in your cheek. What’s wrong, Cupcake?”
What’s wrong? What’s wrong? Where do I begin?!
Simply overwhelmed, Gwenyth drew in a ragged breath and exhaled it slowly. She could tell her husband that he was getting on her nerves. She could tell him to go away and leave her alone. But when she gazed into those true blue eyes and saw the love for her and their unborn baby burning so intensely there, she knew she had to continue to bite her tongue and say nothing. Gwenyth could only pray that her tongue wasn’t half gnawed off by the time spring training began. “I, uh, forgot to take my vitamins this morning.”
Sam clucked his tongue. He shook his head back and forth disapprovingly. “Gwenyth Marie, how will you get along when I’m out practicin’ on the field all day and can’t be here to make sure you do what’s right by you and our child?”
Gwenyth ground her teeth together. She could almost hear enamel grating against enamel. “I’m not certain.”
Sam placed eight more jars of baby food into the grocery cart. “Luckily for you, Gwen honey, I’ll be here to keep you in the habit of takin’ your vitamins and whatnot for the next two weeks.”
“Oh joy.”
“What was that?”
“I said oh joy, as in, what a relief.”
Sam scratched his chin as he considered that. “You’re lucky as I don’t know what to have a husband like me, Gwen.”
“I thank my lucky stars every night.”
* * * * *
Though she had begun to fear the time would never arrive, spring training eventually came to Tampa Bay. The Yankees practiced at Legends Field in Tampa and the Crusaders did their thing just across the bridge in St. Petersburg. The only team Gwenyth cared about, however, was the Crusaders, because it meant that her husband was out of her hair several hours every day. Oh she loved Sam, couldn’t live without him and wouldn’t want to try, but now she understood why spouses rarely worked together. They’d likely be divorced within the year.
Spring training also meant the return of Brian Goodman to Florida. A fact that didn’t go unnoticed by Candy. Gwenyth’s best friend always made certain they were never alone together in the same room. And poor Brian was as flustered as he could be over it. He knew Candy was attracted to him, but try as he might, Brian simply couldn’t penetrate her prickly defenses.
But then he got smart. It didn’t take Brian long at all to figure out that, with Candy, jealousy would work where reason would not. His first major move came about one night when the four of them plus Marc went out to eat at a local bar and grille that specialized in seafood entrees.
“Will you just look at the way those bimbos are hanging all over him?” Candy hissed.
Gwenyth pretended she hadn’t noticed. Smiling to herself, she looked up at the bar where Brian was standing with two drop-dead gorgeous blondes attached to either hip. Sam and Marc were standing not too far away from him, embroiled in conversation with the grille’s owner. No doubt they were getting some tips for their future restaurant endeavor.
Gwenyth winked at Brian. He smiled back slyly. “He is a very attractive man, Can. What do you expect?”
“You find him attractive?” Candy squeaked out. She pretended to brush a speck of lint off of her sweater. “I suppose he is—for a macho jock, but to be perfectly honest, I hadn’t really noticed.”
Yeah. Right. “Apparently the blondes have noticed. Good grief, I think the one on the left just copped a feel.”
Candy blew out a bubble and popped it ferociously. “That bitch.”
“What was that?”
“I said, maybe he had an itch.”
Gwenyth studied her glass of tea. Yeah. Right. “Yes. Perhaps the blonde was just scratching it for him.”
Candy had heard enough. Standing up abruptly, she spit out her gum, wrapped it up in a cocktail napkin, and handed it over to Gwenyth. “I’ll call you later, Gwen,” she announced without glancing backward toward her best friend.
Candy’s
stiletto heels clicked on the polished wood floors of the seafood bar and grille as she sauntered seductively toward Brian. Her light brown eyes never left his face as she sashayed up to where he stood and peered up at him. Brian swallowed harshly, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.
All eyes turned toward the pair. It was as if time in the restaurant had come to a standstill. And then it happened.
Candy grabbed Brian by the back of the neck, pulled his face down to meet hers, and boldly thrust her tongue into his mouth. She kissed him like that for what felt like an eternity to Gwenyth. Candy’s attention was never once distracted, not even when the patrons began making whistling sounds and cat calls.
And then she released him. With the same gusto and flair, Candy pivoted on her high heels and strutted out of the bar, not even bothering to look back.
Bemused, Gwenyth craned her neck around to gage Brian’s reaction. Oh yes, there would be a story there. And if Brian Goodman could close his gaping jaw long enough to make his next move, the story would probably end pretty interestingly.
Chapter 22
Gwenyth left the post office at a quarter till four, figuring she had about two hours left to pick up some dinner and get it home in time to meet her hungry husband. Sam always came home famished from ball practice, and since her day was typically over and done with a good two hours before his, she was generally the one that took care of supper time.
Gwenyth put the keys in the ignition of her jeep and the engine croaked to life. Literally. Frowning, Gwenyth made a mental note to tell Sam that it was time for her to get a new car. The jeep had definitely seen better days.
Pulling out of the parking lot, Gwenyth made a left at the light and headed toward a Greek diner down the road that carried Sam’s favorite gyros and baked the best baklava Gwenyth had ever eaten on this side of the Mediterranean. Grinning, she patted her belly and cooed to the baby. “It’s okay, little one. Mommy’s hungry for something sweet too.”
