Gwynneth Ever After (2 page)

“Thank you,” she said. “For your patience as well as your help. I hope I didn’t distract you too much.”

Her seat companion opened his mouth as though to say something, paused, and smiled. “It was for a good cause. I hope your friend likes her gift.”

With a smile and a brief incline of his head, he stepped through the velvet curtains into the hallway beyond and disappeared. Gwyn stared after him, still wondering, shoulders tingling from the touch of warm, strong hands as he’d settled her coat into place.

Chapter 2

Stepping out of the theater, Gareth Connor fished car keys from coat pocket. That had been quite the experience in there – rather like tangling with a small tornado, albeit far more pleasant. Shaking his head at his own lingering smile, he turned up the collar on his wool coat and skirted a puddle on the sidewalk.

He’d almost introduced himself, but after her initial start of recognition, she’d seemed content to withdraw into her own little world. It had been quite a novelty for him, actually, sitting beside a stranger who hadn’t tried to behave as if they were best friends. His smile turned rueful. For that reason alone, he should have introduced himself. A woman who didn’t fall all over him was downright refreshing.

And a woman who didn’t fall all over him
and
who looked as good as she had...

He’d ended up ignoring much of the play in favor of watching her work, barely visible in the dim light of their shared box. Her hair had fascinated him. A wild tangle of spirals that she’d tried – and failed – to tame with a clip. Until the full set of house lights had come on at the end of the play, he’d had to guess at its auburn color. He’d been strangely satisfied to find his guess accurate – not because he was right, but because auburn suited her so well. Rich, untamed auburn.

And blue eyes. Laughing blue eyes that crinkled at the corners when she wrinkled her nose at her finished sketch.

And skin the color of –
 

A sudden, icy blast of wind sliced through thoughts he knew he had no business having. He pulled out a pair of gloves as he rounded the corner of the theater into the parking lot, tugging them on as he reluctantly put the encounter out of mind. Because as intriguing as it might have been, he had other concerns right now.
 

 
A raindrop splashed onto his cheek and he put up his hand to wipe it away. God, what a time of year to be visiting this part of Canada. Trust Catherine to move all the way across the Atlantic to this. Sometimes he wondered if her choice hadn’t been just a little bit spiteful...

He shrugged off the thought. None of that mattered anymore. He was here now, they were both adults, and he had too much at stake to start analyzing motives or leveling accusations. Far, far too much at stake.

Very soon, they would talk, he and his ex. They would talk, and they would settle this once and for all. And then...then he would see. Just as he wouldn’t analyze motives, neither would he risk jinxing the outcome with too many expectations.

Patience, Connor. You’ve waited this long, you can last a few more days.

Long strides brought him to a blue sedan, one of only a handful of cars left in the lot. He inserted a key in the lock, then paused. A few spaces away, headlights gleamed from a car that held no occupant. The memory of spilled pencils and auburn hair returned. Another smile tugged.

What were the chances?

***

Gwyn saw the dying glow of headlights the instant she entered the parking lot. Her heart sank to her rapidly chilling toes.
Oh, no. No, no, no.
 

She couldn’t have.

But she had, and the faint click when she twisted the key in the ignition, unaccompanied by even the tiniest turn of the engine, confirmed it. She groaned, swore vehemently, and groaned again. Her breath fogged in the chill.

Folding her arms across the steering wheel, she rested her head against them. She pictured the overdue auto-club membership form on her desk at home, nestled in the
to-do
basket, which she decided she’d rename the
too-late
basket if she ever got home.

And it was a big “if.” With significant payments from three clients sitting in the same
too late
basket, she’d temporarily maxed out her credit card and bottomed out her checking account. A tow truck to give her a boost would cost a fortune that didn’t exist in an obtainable form just now. Ditto a cab to take her home.

Heck, she’d even arranged to pay Kirsten with a check, on condition that it wouldn’t be cashed until after she’d made it to the bank tomorrow.

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to think calmly through her options. Sandy always went out with the cast after a performance – and didn’t own a cell phone – so she’d be no help. Alex and Jamie, Kirsten’s parents, were away for the weekend...

A tap on her window made her turn her head. She stared in disbelief at her former seatmate. His mouth tipped upward at one corner and he motioned for her to roll down the window.

“Problems?” he asked.

She bit her lip, loathe to admit her idiocy. “I left the lights on,” she said at last. “You wouldn’t happen to have any booster cables, would you?”

He shook his head. “I’m afraid not. I have a cell phone, though.”

She held up her own. “So do I, thanks.”

“Have you called a truck?”

“No. I’ll just catch a bus home and have my neighbor drive me over to collect the car tomorrow.” At least she had that much money with her. She hoped.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Yeah, right. Absolutely certain she wanted to spend the next three hours trying to travel the short distance across the Ottawa River to the Aylmer sector of Gatineau on the buses’ roundabout Sunday routes. Oh well, at least it would give her ample time to reflect on how much of a ditz this incredibly good-looking man must think she was.

She mustered a weak smile. “Thanks anyway.”

“You’re welcome. Goodnight.” He took a couple of steps away, then swung back to face her again. “You wouldn’t like to get a cup of coffee, would you?”

“I beg your pardon?” She stared at him. She knew she was being rude, but she couldn’t help it. She was too stunned to be polite.

“Coffee,” he repeated, the thread of amusement back again. “Hot, black...I’m sure you’ll recognize it when you see it.”

“I – I – ” Gwyn stammered. The bus, dinner for the kids...oh, heck, why not? What was another half hour added on to how late she’d already be? Even if he turned out not to be the real Gareth Connor, she’d have one heck of a tale to go along with Sandy’s gift. She took her keys out of the ignition, picked up her uncooperative shoulder bag, and exited the car.

“Coffee would be nice,” she said, and held out her hand to him. “I’m Gwyn Jacobs.”

“Gareth Connor,” he replied, accepting her handshake.

Gwyn’s heart gave a mighty thud, knocking most of the air from her lungs. All right, so women like her
did
sit beside famous actors in obscure Ottawa theatres. She collected herself, withdrew her hand, and said with what she considered remarkable aplomb, “I thought I recognized you.”

“I wasn’t sure if you did or not.”

“I think it was more a case of not believing my own eyes,” she said, her voice wry. “Canterbury Theatre in Ottawa is a little out of the way for you, I’d think.”

He smiled and shrugged without giving a direct reply. “There’s a bistro across the street. Shall we?”

She held up her cell phone. “Give me two seconds to call my babysitter first. I need to let her know I’ll be late.”

Gareth Connor’s eyes flickered at the word
babysitter
, but he said nothing, merely moving a few steps off to wait for her.

Gwyn made a quick call to ask Kirsten to reheat yesterday’s leftover macaroni and cheese casserole for dinner – and to assure her she’d make it home sometime before the kids went to bed. Then, ending the connection, she took a deep breath and joined her coffee companion, the real live Gareth Connor, on the sidewalk.

Chapter 3

The warmth of the bistro wrapped around Gwyn the instant they stepped through the door, making her realize how cold the late afternoon had become. Shivering, she pulled her chin into her scarf. A few tables away, a waitress looked up, did a visible double-take, and nearly dropped a coffee cup into an equally startled customer’s lap. A murmur of excitement passed through the room.

Gwyn glanced sideways at Gareth, but he seemed oblivious to the sudden stir in the tiny restaurant.

“There’s a table over there,” he said, nodding toward the window.

His hand settled into the small of her back, guiding her through the bistro, past the whispers and stares marking their progress. At the table, she peeled off her gloves and tucked them into a pocket, then unbuttoned her coat. Gareth moved to slide it from her shoulders.

“Not yet, thanks,” she said. “I think I’ll warm up first.”

Gareth shed his own coat, hung it on the back of his chair and joined her at the table, which promptly shrank ten sizes. Facing her companion across the blue-and-white checked tablecloth, Gwyn tucked her hands into her lap and tried for a casual air.

When she couldn’t think of a single thing to say, however, she felt pretty sure her attempt failed miserably.

The silence at their table stretched. Just as it reached excruciating on the awkward scale, the waitress arrived with two cardboard menus and a steaming coffee pot.

“Just coffee for me, thanks,” Gwyn murmured.

“Are you sure?” Gareth asked. “If your kids are eating dinner without you...”

“I’m fine, thanks.” Far too many butterflies resided in her belly to allow the addition of food. Coffee alone could be a challenge.

The waitress took her time filling their cups and retrieving their menus. She made no effort to conceal her blatant appraisal of Gareth, excitement warring with disbelief in her eyes. Gwyn ducked her head to hide a smile. She knew exactly how the poor girl felt.

At last the waitress departed, still looking undecided about Gareth’s identity. Gwyn regarded her companion.

“Is it always like this when you go somewhere?”

Gareth shrugged. “Sometimes it’s worse,” he said. “You get used to it.”

Gwyn reached for the chrome-and-glass sugar dispenser and sprinkled a rough teaspoon’s worth into her coffee. She searched for a conversation topic.

“So, what in the world are you doing in Ottawa, Mr. Connor?”

Not overly clever as an opening, but better than another silence.

“Gareth,” he replied. “And I’m hiding.”

“Oh?” She smiled at the frank admission. “From anyone in particular?”

Gareth shook his head. “More like everyone in general. I have a cousin here, and when I needed a holiday, he suggested I visit him. Apparently you Canadians are very respectful of people’s privacy. Remarkably unobtrusive, he called you.”

“When we’re not hitting you with shoulder bags and dropping pencils at your feet, you mean.”

He chuckled, a rich, warm sound that blended well with the cozy bistro surroundings and made Gwyn’s breath hitch a little.

“Something like that,” he agreed.

“How long are you here for?”

“A week or two. I’m – ”
 
He hesitated, then shrugged. “It depends.”

“You picked a heck of a time of year to visit.”

Gareth stirred a teaspoon of sugar and some cream into his own coffee. “It’s not that bad, actually. You’re about three weeks closer to winter than we are at home, but otherwise the weather is similar.”

“You have the same indecisive weather gods? Lucky you.” Gwyn grimaced. “So far we’ve been scraping ice off the windshields one day and going without our jackets the next. But I shouldn’t complain too much. We might even have a green Christmas this year.”
 

“That’s a good thing?”

“It depends.”

“On?”

“On whether you’re speaking to my kids or the person who has to shovel the driveway.” She flashed him a grin. “If I had my way, it would snow on Christmas Eve and melt on Boxing Day. Although I suppose it could snow now,” she added thoughtfully, “if it would stick to the lawns and stay off the roads and sidewalks.”

Gareth laughed. “You don’t dream big, do you?”

“Me? Never.” She wrapped her hands around her own mug and lifted it to her lips, inhaling the pungent aroma then taking a sip. Hot and still faintly bitter, the dark liquid chased away the last of her chill. She set down the cup again and shrugged out of her coat.

“Do you do set design for a lot of plays at the theater?” Gareth asked, nodding out the window towards the building on the other side of the street.

 
“Not really - I just have trouble saying no to someone with a good story.” Gwyn picked up her mug again. “Sandy’s my best friend and I wanted to help out. The only people I know who actually frequent that place are the ones trying to have it preserved as a historical monument of some kind.”

“I take it you don’t think the theatre is worth preserving?”