The Jock (18 page)

"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 dispose 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 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
Trevianni."

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.

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 finish
The
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' Trevianni?" 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."

"Me
too."

A
prolonged minute later, Candy sighed forlornly, bringing Gwenyth's attention
toward her expressive features. "I can't believe you're going to be living
in Boston for six months of the year, Gwen. I sincerely hope Sam doesn't mind
my visiting frequently. I'll miss you, you know."

Startled
that Candy would think otherwise, she shook her head vehemently. "Of
course he doesn't mind, not that I'd care if he did. You will always be my best
friend, Can. We both want you to visit Boston as often as your schedule
allows."

Candy
took Gwenyth's hand and squeezed it. "Thank-you for that." She blew
out a breath and laughed without humor. "I'm jealous, you do
realize."

Gwenyth's
eyes widened. "You're attracted to Sam?" she asked dejectedly.

Candy
chuckled. "Good lord, no. He's handsome and all, but he's always been
yours, Gwen. Ever since we were kids." She shook her head. "I meant I
was jealous
of
Sam, not because of him."

"What
do you mean?"

Candy
shrugged. "You've never been hot like this over a guy before, let alone
married to one. I guess I got used to having no competition for your
attention."

Gwenyth's
heart warmed at her best friend's confession. "That is so sweet, though
completely unnecessary." She squeezed Candy's hand. "Nothing in the
whole world could change my feelings for you or my desire to spend time with
you."

Candy
smiled slowly. "I know," she whispered gently. "I'm just being a
selfish jerk."

A
whisper of words rippled through the gathered crowd like a wave, bringing
everyone's attention toward the raised podium that had been set up for tonight.
Gwenyth's heart rate accelerated rapidly as she watched Harry take the stage,
knowing at once that the call they were waiting on would come through any
minute now. Harry would soon know whether or not he had emerged the victor.

As
Harry began speaking, Gwenyth felt Sam's arm clasp around her shoulder in a
warm embrace. She looked up at him and smiled, then turned her sights back to
her brother and the humorous dialogue he was performing for his rapt audience.

"I
haven't been so nervous waiting for the phone to ring since I gave Martha
Tipple my number in the eighth grade," Harry intoned with a grin. The
crowd ate it up, laughing delightedly. He continued to speak, mesmerizing the
audience with his every word and gesture. "I just hope I'm given better
news this time around."

Sam
chuckled. He leaned over and whispered in Gwenyth's ear. "He's gonna win,
baby. I can feel it." Gwenyth peered up at her husband and smiled. "I
think so too. The wait is killing me, though." Sam squeezed his wife's
shoulder. "We all feel it, Cupcake."

When
the telephone rang a few minutes later, a hush went over the crowd. The room
was so quiet, Gwenyth was certain she could have heard a pin drop. It was the
human equivalent to the calm before the storm. Placing her right hand in Sam's
and her other in Candy's, she bit on her lip as she waited for Harry to deliver
the news that would turn this gathering into the atmosphere of either Mardi
Gras or a funeral.

"I
don't believe it." Harry's almost whispered words caused Gwenyth's stomach
to plummet alarmingly. Her brother's handsome features were pale and drawn.
"I don't believe it."

Just
say it!
Gwenyth
wanted to scream, the tension of not knowing making her edgy. If it was bad news,
it needed to be delivered at once.

Harry
turned to the crowd and gulped, wide-eyed. He set the telephone back on its
receiver and cleared his throat. "We did it," he announced as if he
couldn't believe it, "we won."

Cheers
and laughter rang throughout the gathering as Mardi Gras ensued. Harry picked
up an ecstatic Verlene and swung her around and around the podium, much to
everyone's delight. Gwenyth, Sam, and

Candy
threw themselves at each other, hugging and laughing.

The
remainder of the evening was one of the best the Jones-Trevianni family had
ever spent together. Even Granddad let go of his dislike of "the
establishment" long enough to Waltz with Verlene, and then with Gwenyth
and Candy. He even did a little jig with Sam and Brian to the uproarious
applause of the crowd.

Much
later that night when Sam made love to Gwenyth in their bed, Sam showed his
wife the finer points of reenacting that very jig horizontally. Judging from
her moans and her screamed demands for more, he sensed that his wife was an
eager learner.

* * * * *

Gwenyth
slipped into her jacket and tiptoed toward the front door of the apartment as
quietly as was humanly possible. She was still tired from Sam's vigorous
lovemaking the night prior, but she needed to get down to the Tampa Police
Department and turn in the threatening note she'd received last evening to
Detective Anderson. Harry was scheduled to meet her there in forty-five
minutes.

Turning
the knob and opening the front door with what she thought was the stealth of a
jungle cat, Gwenyth was mildly surprised to hear Sam's grumble from the
vicinity of the living room entrance. "Gwenyth Marie, just where are you
goin' without tellin' me?"

Gwenyth
gulped nervously as she slowly turned around to meet her husband's unnerving
stare. She was in no way ready to tell him the truth. "To get breakfast
for us," she lied. "I was, uh, hungry."

Sam
folded his arms across his chest and glowered at her challengingly. "Oh
really?"

"Uh
huh."

"Then
why are you sneaking out of here like a cat burglar?" Gwenyth's chin
notched up haughtily. "I have no idea what you mean."

Sam
strolled over to where Gwenyth stood casting him wary glances. "You're the
worst liar on planet earth, Gwen, which I happen to like about you." He
tweaked her topknot gently before meeting her gaze. "Now tell me the
truth."

Gwenyth
licked her lips as she tried to figure out a way around this new dilemma. The
past couple of days as husband and wife had been pure bliss and she was
reluctant to throw any wrenches into the mix that might cause Sam to do
something so—well—so Sam-like. She could easily envision her new husband
spending the first year of their marriage behind bars.