'Is there anything I can do to help?' offered that smoothly familiar voice Gaye instantly recognised as Jonathan Hunter's. 'Or have I done enough already?' he asked ruefully as he bent down to retrieve the spoon she had just dropped.
Gaye had turned quickly at the sound of his voice, dropping the spoon in her surprise at being interrupted in his way. Jonathan's latter remark had been ambiguous to say the least. Had he done enough already by making her drop the spoon, or had he effectively—or very effectively!—let her make a complete idiot of herself in Theatre earlier?
She looked across at him exasperatedly, receiving a charming smile for her trouble—a smile, she was sure, that usually melted the heart of any female it was directed at. Except that her heart was impenetrable, to Jonathan Hunter's, or indeed any other man's, charm.
'I can manage, thank you,' she returned frostily.
'I'm sure you can. Manage, I mean,' he accepted lightly. 'But I would like to help.'
Gaye looked at his expertly styled hair, his tailor-made suit, the silk shirt, the hand-made shoes—and seriously wondered if he knew one end of a coffee-pot from the other, let alone what you did with it! Somehow, she doubted it. No doubt the Hunter family had servants to do such menial tasks.
'I really can manage,' she told him sharply. 'Would you please go back to the waiting room?' She turned back to the preparation of the coffee, muttering under her breath as she did so. Thank goodness she could go off duty in half an hour. Although the prospect of going home was never a happy one nowadays. . .
'That was a big sigh. . . ?'
She gave another irritable sigh as she turned back to face Jonathan Hunter. 'I thought you had gone,' she said.
He was leaning back against the door-frame, arms crossed loosely in front of his chest. 'As you can see, I haven't,' he returned unconcernedly. 'I thought, as you won't let me help you, that I could carry the tray through for you when it's ready.'
In other words, he had no intention of leaving! She couldn't say she was altogether surprised; there was a steely determination beneath that charming exterior— even if his step-niece could wrap him around her little finger. Charlie was probably the only female that could. . .
Gaye couldn't exactly say she had met Jonathan Hunter's type before—he was way out of her league— but nevertheless she felt, for all he was so languidly charming, that there was a much harder side to him. That there was a much harder side to all the Hunter men. . .
'Why did you sigh just now?' Jonathan lightly interrupted her thoughts.
He also had a doggedness that was fast becoming annoying! Why her? she inwardly groaned. Wasn't her life complicated enough already, without this man's interest? She came to work, she did her job to the best of her ability, she asked nothing of anyone, expected even less, so why had this golden-eyed charmer come into her life at all, with his obvious wealth and boundless charm?
'It's been a long day,' she excused abruptly. And, thankfully, it was nearly over.
He nodded. 'But it must be rewarding. Doing what you do,' he explained as she frowned across at him. 'Helping to bring life into the world.'
Gaye stared at him. Yes, it was wonderful to see the look of wonder on a new mother's face as her baby was put into her waiting arms. It was the reason she had chosen to specialise in midwifery—because it meant life and not death.
When had she lost sight of that? How had she lost sight of that?
She knew the answer to both those questions. But until this man had questioned her she hadn't realised she had become immune to what she did, to the joy of childbirth; her own life was something she simply got through.
Tears stung her eyes, hot, burning emotion threatening to cascade down her cheeks. She shouldn't cry, mustn't cry, in front of this man. In fact, she couldn't cry in front of anyone. She had held herself firmly in check the last two years; she couldn't start to break down how!
'Gaye. . .!' Jonathan Hunter was at her side, his hands on her arms, his gaze fixed searchingly on the pale beauty of her face.
It was a face that had grown thinner over the last two years, green eyes appearing huge within its delicately etched contours, cheekbones high, her nose small over generously full lips, her chin and jawline sharply defined, the laughter that had once glowed in the green depths of her eyes too long dampened, adding to her air of vulnerability.
But the last thing she wanted was this man's fleeting concern. She didn't want, or need, his pity. If she ever gave in to the emotions she had kept so firmly in check for so long, then she wasn't sure she would be able to go on at all. When Jonathan Hunter left the clinic today, he wouldn't give her a second thought, whereas her few moments of weakness, of leaning emotionally on someone else, no matter how briefly, would leave her battling to hold up the shaky house of cards that had become her life these last two years.
'Please, Mr Hunter.' She moved away from him, at her chilliest. That coldness had alienated old friends and new acquaintances alike recently—it would keep Jonathan Hunter away too! 'I don't—'
'Jonathan!' Jordan Hunter suddenly appeared in the doorway, his expression jubilant. 'Excuse me butting in, Nurse,' he apologised quickly. 'It's a boy, Jonathan,' he announced excitedly. 'And both he and Abbie are fine,' he added thankfully, obviously as fond of his sister-in-law as Jonathan appeared to be. 'Jarrett has just taken Charlie in to see them both.'
Which had probably also thrilled James Gilchrist! Although from the way Jarrett Hunter had spoken to the consultant earlier, and the way in which he had responded, Jarrett Hunter probably didn't give a damn whether he was thrilled or not!
"That's wonderful news,' Gaye told them both lightly. 'By the time you've drunk your coffee—' she placed the tray in Jonathan Hunter's hands '—your sister-in-law will be in her room, and then you can go and see all of them.' And she would have gone off duty!
'Gaye. . .?'
She stopped at the door, turning slowly to face Jonathan Hunter, every muscle in her body feeling tense, her nerves stretched to screaming pitch. Why couldn't this man just go back to his life, and leave her to get on with hers?
'Yes?' she prompted stiffly, eyeing him warily. 'Thank you for all your help today,' he told her huskily.
Then he smiled. It was like the sun coming out, his eyes deeply golden, laughter-lines beside his mouth and eyes—even his hair seemed to have taken on a deeper golden glow.
Gaye gave a shake of her head. 'I'm not quite sure what you're thanking me for—almost being present at your nephew's birth or the chance discovery that green isn't your colour!' she replied challengingly. 'I can assure you, it's all in a day's work,' she dismissed before making good her escape.
Because now she had to find Mr Gilchrist, and apologise for turning his theatre into a circus!
Then she had to go home. . .
Neither was something she particularly looked forward to doing!
CHAPTER TWO
'Great legs,' Jordan murmured appreciatively.
'Hmm?' Jonathan rounded frowningly to find his younger brother standing in the corridor beside him, his frown turning to a scowl as he noted the admiration with which Jordan was watching Gaye's departure, obviously enjoying her natural grace of movement as she walked— as he had himself earlier when he'd first arrived at this clinic! As Jordan had pointed out so appreciatively, Gaye had long, shapely legs beneath her uniform. 'Hands—and eyes!—off, little brother,' he warned pointedly. 'And take this to the waiting room on your way back.' He handed the laden tray to Jordan.
'Where are you going?' Jordan demanded to know protestingly.
Gaye didn't just have those wonderful legs to recommend her—her beauty had hit him like a sledgehammer the first time he'd set eyes on her. They certainly hadn't had nurses like her when he was in hospital a few years ago having his appendix out. Which was probably as well—he would never have wanted to recover!
He grinned. 'To talk to a surgeon about a natural mistake,' he said enigmatically, walking away before Jordan asked for an expla
nation of the remark—knowing his younger brother wouldn't be watching his departure with the same admiration he had Gaye's!
Damn it, but he had been annoyed at Jordan's remark
about her legs. Even if it was true! The truth of the matter was, Gaye was gorgeous in every way he could think of. She had a wonderful figure, the fullness of her breasts tapering down to a slender waist, the narrowness of her hips almost coltish when coupled with those long, long legs. And her face! She was so hauntingly beautiful she almost took his breath away, the green depths of her eyes filled with a sadness that brought out every protective instinct he possessed. Beauty and vulnerability—the combination was deadly!
Yet, as he went in search of the specialist who had operated on Abbie, he couldn't help wondering how long Gaye's blond hair would be when it wasn't neatly secured at her nape. . .
Was she married? If so, then he would swear it wasn't happily! But, happily or not, if she were married, then Jonathan knew he would have to back off. Married women had no appeal for him whatsoever.
He cursed himself now for not paying more attention to her hands, to whether or not she had been wearing a wedding ring. Although he knew not wearing one was no guarantee of anything these days, that some women preferred not to wear a wedding ring any more. Unlike Abbie and Jarrett, who had given each other eternity rings on that day two years ago when they had promised to love each other for ever. . .
Life, Jonathan decided as he strode purposefully down the corridor, was certainly strange. The three of them— Jonathan and his two brothers—had been conditioned, after a stormy childhood within an unhappy marriage, not to want to take that plunge themselves, and yet he knew for a fact that Jarrett hadn't looked at another woman since he met and married Abbie, and that he never would. How the mighty had fallen!
Now Abbie and Jarrett had a son. . .
Conor James, he discovered, when he arrived at Abbie's room twenty minutes later. Abbie was still a little groggy, but obviously ecstatically happy. Jarrett was smiling so proudly as he beamed at his wife and son.
As babies went, Jonathan supposed this one was quite pretty—if a boy could be called pretty!—and not at all wrinkled and frowning like every other new-born baby Jonathan had seen. But apart from the fact that Conor was his nephew, that he had his parents' dark hair, and that Jarrett obviously thought he was the most wonderful child ever, Jonathan quickly tired of looking down at the small, defenceless human being, whose only activity seemed to be, from time to time, screwing up his face and stretching out his fingers. Give him a tiny adult like Charlie any day!
Although even she seemed smitten. 'Isn't he gorgeous, Uncle Jonathan?' She glowed up at him from where she sat next to the baby playing with his tiny hands.
'Lovely,' he agreed, wondering how soon he would be able to get away.
Abbie took one look at his face and burst out laughing. 'Wait until it's your own baby, then we'll see how lovely it is!' she teased affectionately, obviously none the worse for Conor's early traumatic birth.
'You'll wait a long time,' Jonathan muttered dryly.
Jarrett gave him a sideways glance. 'Jordan tells us you're smitten,' he taunted, all the time holding tightly on to Abbie's hand.
Jonathan shot his younger brother an impatient glance, receiving only a cheeky grin in return. 'Jordan has a big mouth,' he bit out. 'And now, as all the Hunter board of directors seem to be congregated in this room, perhaps one of us should get back to work and tell the rest of the employees they can go home for the day!'
'Are you volunteering?' Jordan looked at him with innocently wide eyes—eyes that danced with devilment!
'No—you are,' Jonathan told him firmly. 'I have something else I have to do.'
'Nurse Royal went off duty ten minutes ago,' Jordan told him with dry mockery.
He glared across the room at his youngest brother. 'How the hell do you know that?'
Jordan gave him a self-satisfied grin. 'I asked,' he answered.
Jonathan's hands clenched at his sides. One of these days he was going to take great pleasure in taking that grin off Jordan's face and ramming it down his—
'We'll see you later, Jonathan,' Jarrett put in lightly, usually the one to act as peacemaker between his two more volatile brothers.
With one last glaring look at Jordan, Jonathan quickly took his leave, promising to return later that evening to visit mother and baby again, hurrying out to the corridor, wondering if he was going to be too late to find Gaye before she left.
He was. There were quite a few people bustling about, some in uniform, others in everyday clothes, but none of them was Gaye. Damn Jordan; if he had been going to ask about Gaye then he should have asked for her address, and not just the time she would be leaving!
It was as he was driving out of the grounds of the clinic that he spotted her. She was standing across the road at a bus stop, noticeable to him, in spite of the dozen or so other people that were also waiting in line.
Jonathan no longer needed to wonder about the length of her hair; it fell in a thick, straight curtain down to the middle of her back, her body boyishly slender in a dark green sweatshirt and pale blue denims. She looked very young without the officialdom of her uniform, ethereally lovely.
It took Jonathan some minutes to negotiate the flow of traffic, all the time hoping the damned bus wouldn't arrive and whisk her away from under his nose before he could get the car over to her!
It didn't. Although Gaye seemed totally unaware of the black BMW parked at the side of the road; those gorgeous green eyes of hers were staring off into the distance, but at the same time seeming to see nothing.
It wasn't until Jonathan actually stood directly in front of her that she became aware of his presence there at all, and even then she merely looked at him with a complete lack of recognition. Damn it, this woman was destroying his ego!
'Jonathan Hunter,' he reminded her tersely—annoyed at the necessity of having to do so. 'I thought I could give you a lift home.'
She blinked long dark lashes as she looked up at him uncomprehendingly. Then the penny seemed to drop, and a delicate colour entered her otherwise pale cheeks. 'Mr Hunter,' she acknowledged. 'I—er—the bus is just coming.' She looked over his shoulder at the approaching vehicle.
Jonathan didn't even turn. 'Then we had better go now so I can move my car and the bus can pull up.'
'But—'
'Come on, Gaye.' He took a firm hold of her arm and guided her over to the front passenger door of his car, opening it for her to get in. 'We're holding up the traffic,' he told her firmly before closing the door behind her and moving around to his side of the car, putting up an acknowledging hand to the bus driver, then getting in behind the wheel.
Jonathan glanced at Gaye as he switched on the engine, but she sat very still beside him, keeping her gaze straight ahead. He wasn't sure if she was annoyed with him, or just amazed at finding herself seated in his car rather than on the bus. Whatever, he was too busy at the moment getting back into the flow of traffic before the bus driver decided to give him a helping hand by shunting the back of his car. Considering he had only had it a couple of months, he wouldn't be too thrilled if the other man decided to do that!
'Which way?' he asked Gaye once they were finally moving again.
"That's what I was trying to say to you earlier.' She spoke quietly, in that softly melodic voice. 'I live in the suburbs of London, and have a bus and then a train to catch to get home.'
Jonathan shook his head. "That still doesn't tell me which way.'
She gave him the directions precisely, distinctly, before once again lapsing into silence.
This woman was certainly different, Jonathan decided; he had never met a woman who talked as little as she did. Not that he could stand chattering females either, but this young lady closely resembled a clam! All he knew about her was what he could actually see with his own eyes. She was a trained midwife, tall, blond, green-eyed, probably ten years younger than his own thirty-s
even.
But he had known he wanted her from the moment he first looked at her!
Cool, detached, ethereally beautiful—what Jonathan most wanted was to see her naked and wanton in his arms, every vestige of that outer coldness melted away. He had always been ambitious, he acknowledged wryly—if anything, Gaye was more frosty towards him now than she had been earlier!
'You spoke to Mr Gilchrist.'
She spoke so softly, Jonathan wasn't even sure he had heard her correctly. 'Sorry?' he prompted.
'You spoke to Mr Gilchrist earlier.' She spoke more certainly this time. 'In fact,' she went on, 'I think you must have done a little more than talk to him; he actually apologised to me for shouting at me in Theatre in front of everyone!'
Jonathan's mouth quirked at her astonished tone. 'Not in character, hmm?' He had found the specialist bombastic and full of his own importance, but nevertheless he had let it be known that the Hunter family were not impressed by his bullying tactics to a midwife who had, after all, only been trying to do her duty.
He couldn't say he was exactly proud of his own tactics where the other man was concerned, but once again the Hunter name had won through; there had to be some advantages to being one of three brothers who ran one of the most successful corporations in England! Whatever, his conversation with Mr Gilchrist had obviously worked, if he had gone so far as to apologise to Gaye rather than the other way around!
'Not exactly.' She grimaced. 'But I thank you for your intervention, anyway.' There was the ghost of a smile on those wonderfully sensual lips.
Jonathan nodded. 'My pleasure. Would you be feeling grateful enough to have dinner with me this evening?'
Her smile instantly faded. 'Thank you, but no.'
'Just no?' He showed his disappointment; he already had a date for this evening, but he would be happy to break it if it meant he could spend the time with Gaye. 'You aren't even going to think about it?'
'No,' she confirmed flatly.
To Be a Husband Page 2