Gwynneth Ever After (4 page)

“Way.” Gwyn smoothed lipstick over her lips. She replaced the cap on the tube and dropped it into her purse, then plucked a tissue from the box on the bathroom counter, trying hard to stifle her jangling nerves.

From the moment she’d risen this morning, the day’s events had seemed consistently beyond her control. Kirsten’s mom hadn’t been able to drive her over to her disabled vehicle until this afternoon; then she’d waited more than an hour for the auto-club tow truck, hit rush-hour traffic on the return home, and been late picking up the kids from school. Then they’d had to drop school bags at home, grab a snack, and race off to Jiu Jitsu. Walking back in the door twenty minutes ago had left her with none of the time she’d wanted to get ready for her date with Gareth.

Either physically or mentally.

She met Kristen’s eyes in the mirror.

“The real thing,” her babysitter said. “The actual Gareth Connor.”

“In the flesh.”

“You’re making this up.”

Gwyn finished blotting her lipstick and tossed the tissue into the garbage. “No, sweetie, I’m not. This is real, true, and completely on the level.”

“You’re going out with Gareth Connor. You. Gwyn Jacobs. From Nowhere, Canada.”

“You know, just for the record, you’re not helping my nerves any.”

“
Your
nerves? I’m more worried about my own,” Kirsten retorted. “I think I’m going to pass out.”

Brush in hand, Gwyn paused and shot her babysitter a severe look. “You most certainly will not. And no squealing or giggling either. Save it until we’re gone. And remember you promised not to tell anyone.” Thank God she’d had the foresight to extract that vow from Kirsten before she’d told her Gareth’s name.

“Not a soul,” she added. “Gareth doesn’t want the entire world to know he’s in Ottawa and I don’t want to be responsible for ruining his holiday.”

“Mommy!” Katie’s voice called from the living room at the front of the house. “Somebody’s at the door!”

Kirsten clutched her heart with both hands and leaned against the doorframe in a dramatic pose. “I’m definitely going to faint.”

“Go and open the door,” Gwyn said, hoping to heaven that Kirsten didn’t notice her own trembling hand. She’d never hear the end of it. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

Hand fluttering against her breast and broad grin on her face, her babysitter departed from the bathroom doorway.

Gwyn sagged against the counter and stared at her reflection. The sheer panic she saw in her own eyes reached out from the mirror and gripped her belly. What in God’s name was she doing? Dinner with Gareth Connor –
the
Gareth Connor. He, a famous actor from Wales. She, a struggling, single mother-slash-architect in Gatineau, Quebec. Kirsten was right – they didn’t even travel in the same universe, let alone the same circles.
 

She should never have agreed to this.

Nicholas let out a howl of rage in the living room and she winced, then smiled wryly at the mirror. Gareth wanted to get to know her better, did he? Well, this ought to do the trick. With a sigh, she switched off the light and headed towards the dispute.

By the time she arrived at the scene, however, order had been restored. Not by Kirsten, who appeared to be star struck in the worst way, sitting pink-faced and speechless on the corner chair, but by Gareth himself, who crouched beside Nicholas and Maggie, calmly divvying up a pile of building blocks between them.

He glanced up at her arrival, his eyes warming as they met hers. “I’ll be with you in a minute,” he said. “I have some unfinished business here.”

Gwyn nodded. She wouldn’t have been able to speak if she’d tried. The sight of him crouched beside her two blond offspring had knocked the wind right out of her. This wasn’t just any man in her home, after all. It was
the
Gareth Connor. Hollywood mega star. Object of feminine fantasies around the world. Eye candy in the extreme. He should have looked entirely out of his element on the floor of her living room. Out of place in her home.

She had no idea know what to make of discovering the exact opposite.

“There,” Gareth said. “That’s twenty-three each, with one left over.” He held the remaining block up for examination, then tucked it into his coat pocket. “Now I can build one, too.”

Maggie giggled. Nicholas roared.

“Cannot!” he declared. “You have to have more than one for a real castle.”

Gareth looked surprised. “No! Do I really? Well, how many do I need?”

“Lots,” Nicholas advised.

“Seventy-fifteen,” Maggie volunteered. “At least.”

“You can share with me,” Nicholas offered. “Then we can build a really big castle.”

“I don’t think your mum would like that.”

Pretending to frown, he glanced at Gwyn, his eyes dancing, and a shock of surprise went through her. He was enjoying himself. Not just a little, but a lot.

“I’m supposed to take her out for supper, remember?” he added, returning his attention to her son.

“Oh, yeah.” Nicholas nodded. “You’d better do it soon. She gets real grumpy if she’s hungry.”

Gareth smothered a laugh. “Does she indeed? Thank you for the advice, Nicholas, I’ll make sure I remember that. And now, what do you suppose I should do with this?” He withdrew the block from his pocket.

Maggie giggled again, and Gwyn rolled her eyes. Heaven help her, the man appeared to have the same effect no matter what age the female.

“Maybe they could build a castle together,” a new voice piped up as Katie abandoned her television show and moved in for a closer look. “Instead of sharing with you, Nicholas could share with Maggie. I could help, if they want.” The latter was delivered in an offhand way, so that it wouldn’t betray Katie’s interest in an activity she considered beneath her.

Gareth widened his eyes and looked slowly from Nicholas to Maggie and back again. “Your sister,” he advised them in a stage whisper, “is very, very smart. Don’t you think?”

Wide-eyed themselves, the twins nodded. With great care, Gareth reached out and set his block in Katie’s hand.

“There. When your castle is done, Katie can put on the last block,” he said. “And make sure you leave it up for your mum to see when she comes home, all right?”

More nods. Gareth braced his hands on his knees and pushed himself upright. He turned to Gwyn.

“Now,” he announced, “I’m ready.”

Tongue-in-cheek, Gwyn said, “You’re sure about that? If you’d rather stay and build castles...”

Gareth walked past her to the closet. Unerringly, he took out her navy wool coat, helping her slide it on over her simple, crimson wool dress. “And have you turn grumpy on me? I think not.”

Amid a flurry of hugs and kisses goodnight, Gwyn delivered last-minute bedtime instructions to Kirsten, who still hadn’t found her voice, and then the door closed behind them.

The air outside was sharp, but not unpleasantly so, and the night sky crystal-clear. She paused at the edge of the porch, forgetting her nerves in a moment of spontaneous delight as she gazed up through the gigantic, winter-bare maple on her front lawn at the stars suspended against black velvet.

“What a gorgeous night!” she exclaimed. Then she shot an apologetic glance at Gareth. “Don’t mind me. I don’t get out after dark very much.”

“It is beautiful,” he agreed, tipping his own head back. “You can even see all of Orion tonight.”

Gwyn paused again, halfway down the steps. “You know the constellations?” She peered through the branches, but had no idea what to look for.

“Some. I used to know more when I was a kid. I wanted to be an astronomer when I grew up.”

She couldn’t resist. “So you became a star instead of studying them?”

Lame as the pun was, he chuckled. “You could say that, I suppose. Did you find Orion?”

“I think that would depend on what I’m looking for.”

“Look for his belt first. Three stars in a diagonal line. Over there.” Gareth came to stand behind her, his breath stirring her hair, and pointed past the maple tree, toward the south. “Hold up your hand to block the glare from the street lamp. See it? Then up from there, you’ll see others forming an arc. That’s his shield. And the really bright one at the top is the tip of his sword.”

“I’m not sure - ” Right. Like she could see anything through the haze of sudden oxygen deprivation. She shifted away a little. “Oh, wait. I found it!”

She smiled at her own delight, her discomfort dissipating. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

“I passed that level a while back. Without becoming grumpy, I might add.”

They continued down the walkway to Gareth’s car in the driveway. He unlocked her door and held it open for her. “I asked Sean to recommend a place and he suggested
L’orée du Ruisseau
. Do you know it?”

Gwyn stumbled. She wasn’t sure she could cope with the idea of dinner with this man to begin with. But at L’orée du Ruisseau? An image of the restaurant loomed in her mind, tucked beside a stream in the hardwood forest of Gatineau Park. She’d only been once, years before for Sandy’s thirtieth birthday, but she remembered the ambience all too well. Cozy, casually understated, and way too intimate for dinner with a man she wasn’t likely to see again.

Maybe she could suggest something else, such as her kids’ favorite fast-food place, instead.

She raised her gaze to Gareth, who waited for her answer. “I do know it,” she admitted.

“And?”

“It’s beautiful.”

Chapter 5

Gwyn toyed with her knife as their server presented the wine for Gareth’s approval, then poured it into their glasses. They’d been seated with quiet efficiency in a corner at the back of the restaurant, away from the curious eyes that had followed their progress between the tables. While the stares and whispers hadn’t yet diminished, they seemed less intrusive when screened by strategically placed greenery and soft classical music.

Schooling herself to ignore the unfamiliar attention, she flexed the fingers of her other hand under the table. At least in a setting such as this, they wouldn’t likely be interrupted by an autograph-seeker.

“To spilled pencils and new friends,” Gareth said, lifting his glass and smiling over the rim as the waiter departed.

“To spilled pencils,” Gwyn countered, touching her glass to his, “and new friends who are willing to forget them.”

They both sipped their wine, and then Gareth set his glass down.

“How did the lesson go tonight?”

“Jiu Jitsu? It went well. Maggie and Nicholas actually participated for a change. They usually end up rolling around on the mats in the corner.”

“White belts?”

Gwyn nodded. She rested her elbow on the table and settled her chin into her hand. “For another year or so.”

“What about Katie?”

“She tests for her green belt next month.”

“Good for her. Was this something they wanted to do, or was it your idea?”

“My idea, but they enjoy it. Jiu Jitsu and swimming lessons are non-negotiable. I plan on worrying as little as possible when they’re out of my sight.”

“Wise mother. They’re nice kids, by the way.”

“Thank you. I think so, too.”

“How do you think the castle-building went?”

“I imagine it degenerated fairly fast. They were tired.” Gwyn glanced at her watch. “They’ll be asleep by now. You handled that very well, by the way. The dispute, I mean.”

Gareth inclined his head. “Thank you. I thought I should step in before blows were exchanged. Your babysitter sure didn’t say much.”

Her lips twitched. “Just be glad she didn’t follow through on her threat to faint.”

Gareth looked startled. “Oh.”

“You even had Maggie giggling, and she’s usually hiding behind any available object when she meets someone new. Do you have that effect on all women?”

Mischief glinted in his eyes. “I don’t know,” he said. “Do I?”

Gwyn choked on her wine. Mouth quirking at one corner, Gareth handed her his linen napkin.

“
Madame
,” their waiter murmured beside her. Glancing up, she saw him waiting with salad plates in hand. She handed Gareth’s napkin back to him and sat back. The waiter set their salads down, bade them
bon appetit
, and left again.

“You haven’t answered my question,” Gareth reminded her, his deep voice reaching across the table to send a shiver down her spine.

Heat rose in her cheeks, but Gwyn raised her chin a notch and met his eyes square on. “And I’m not going to, either.”

He chuckled, and then, to her immense relief, turned the conversation away from anything quite so personal, seeming determined to put her at ease. Over the course of appetizers and dinner, and then dessert and coffee, they discovered a mutual affinity for Bach and Enya, a passion for the outdoors, an abhorrence of politics, and a dozen other things in common.

As if by some silent, mutual agreement, not once did either of them volunteer or ask for information that might cause the slightest discomfort. It was the first time a man seemed more interested in getting to know her than in the details of her failed marriage – and it was an extraordinary experience.