and put his hand on the knob. Then he looked at her. “Gwen Hutton, you are one very special lady. Good night.”
Brunch was served on the south patio of the house close to noon the next day, and Gwen realized that she was strictly in the company of members of the Fortune family. Apparently the other guests had made their departure sometime between the party last night and brunch today.
It would be very easy to sincerely like these people, Gwen thought about halfway through the meal. Certainly they were all charming to her, all seemingly doing their best to make her feel at ease.
There was nothing in Zane’s eyes today except good humor. Nothing at all about that kiss last night. Inwardly she heaved a sigh, and wondered why she felt as though some great and profound chapter of her life had been abruptly and prematurely closed. A kiss meant nothing to Zane, obviously, and it should mean nothing to her. She should thank her lucky stars that Zane had already forgotten it.
When the meal was over and people began rising to leave and bid each other goodbye, most of them made a special effort to tell Gwen how much they had enjoyed meeting her, and that they hoped to see her again soon. She said thank you a dozen times, discovering that she truly meant it. Every one of the Fortunes and their spouses had been kind and pleasant to her. Zane was lucky to have such a wonderful family.
When they started the drive back to San Antonio, Gwen told him exactly that. “I’m going home with a much different impression of the Fortune family than the preconceived notions I arrived with,” she said.
“You probably thought we were a bunch of snobs,” Zane said with a laugh.
“I think I judged the Fortunes on what I read in the society pages,” Gwen said matter-of-factly.
“Without knowing even one of us, do you think you should have judged us at all?”
Gwen felt her face burning. How neatly he had put her in her place.
When Zane pulled into Gwen’s driveway, he realized that he had barely noticed her house yesterday. It was an unpretentious little white frame house with green trim, several large shade trees and a fenced yard—very much like all the other homes in the obviously blue-collar neighborhood.
Gwen’s garage door was down, and Zane spotted a rather dilapidated white van parked next to the garage. “Who drives the van?” he asked.
“I do. I park out there because the garage is full of furniture.”
Zane laughed curiously. “Furniture?”
“Yes, I refinish old pieces in my spare time.” Gwen was concerned about how to approach the subject of payment. Did Zane have a check with him, or would he put her off with some comment about having a check mailed to her? This part of their arrangement embarrassed and unnerved her. Besides, now that she’d met the Fortune family, she regretted having taken part in Zane’s charade. Receiving money for deceiving such nice people made her feel she’d hit an all-time low.
“Speaking of spare time,” Zane said with a warm smile, “how about having dinner with me some night this coming week?”
Gwen was dumbfounded. Those were positively the last words she could have imagined coming out of Zane’s mouth. She could think of only one reason why he would want to see her again. His sexual appetite had been whetted by that kiss last night, and what he really was requesting was another opportunity to get her into bed.
“Sorry,” she said coolly, “but I don’t date.”
“Not at all?” It was Zane’s turn to look dumbfounded. “Uh, do you have a reason for not dating?”
“Dozens,” she said flatly. “Now, if you’ll get my suitcase from the trunk, I’ll let you be on your way.”
Perplexed, Zane kept looking at her. “I guess I don’t understand. You don’t ever date?”
“I haven’t dated since my husband’s death.”
“You’re a widow? Damn, Gwen, I’m really sorry. For some reason I thought you were a single woman. Well, you are, of course, but—”
“I know what you meant.” Gwen did know. What she didn’t know was why she hadn’t told Zane about her widowhood before this. And she hadn’t mentioned her three kids, either. That was something else he should know. He would probably retract his dinner invitation so fast that her head would spin.
She was about to surprise him with that bit of news when he reached across her and opened the glove compartment. Taking out an envelope, he handed it to her.
Warily Gwen lifted the flap and saw a sheaf of one-hundred dollar bills. He’d paid her in cash. She suddenly felt like bawling.
“You did a great job this weekend,” Zane said.
“Please get my suitcase,” she said hoarsely, only holding back the urge to cry through sheer willpower.
“Right away.” Zane pushed a button that opened the trunk, then got out of the car.
Before he could open her door, Gwen got out too. Taking the suitcase from his hand, she said without looking at him, “I’ll bring this in the house, then go and pick up my kids.”
Zane soberly studied her profile. “I didn’t know you were a widow, I didn’t know you had kids. How come, Gwen? When we were talking about knowing enough about each other to fool my family, why didn’t you mention having kids?”
“Since they’re my entire life, I honestly don’t know. Goodbye, Zane.” Turning, Gwen walked to the front door of the house, unlocked it and went in.
Zane didn’t ask one question about your kids, not how many you have or how old they are. He puts on a great show of good manners and kindly consideration, but deep down, where it counts, he’s really as self-centered as they come. Thank goodness you didn’t do something foolish with him last night, something you’d be painfully regretting today.
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