To Be a Husband

by Carole Mortimer

  Men like Jonathan Hunter were rare, she acknowledged: handsome, charming, self-confident, incredibly rich, and, best of all, still single. Most women wouldn't have turned down an invitation from him! But she had her reasons, very good ones, and no amount of cajoling from either Jonathan or his family would change her mind.

  Although, she had to admit, being around the Hunter family certainly kept one on one's toes!

  'It gets easier,' Abbie assured her gently, seeming to sense Gaye's mental turmoil.

  Gaye had no intention of staying around long enough to find out! 'For your sake, I sincerely hope so,' she returned with feeling. Thank goodness, for her own sake, Abbie Hunter would be discharged from the clinic soon.

  'I'll leave you now to talk with your two visitors,' Gaye added, keeping her gaze firmly averted from Jonathan as she knew he continued to watch her with those enigmatic golden eyes.

  He did make her nervous. There was about him the same air of self-confident stillness she had sensed earlier in Jarrett Hunter, a quiet determination that ensured he arrived at wherever it was he wanted to go. As she looked at him now, the forceful glint in his eyes seemed to imply that the silence of the last two days had merely been a pause, not an end, in his pursuit—

  She was being fanciful now. He had asked her out, she had refused; that was the end of his pursuit. There were too many women out there willing to say yes for Jonathan Hunter to bother with the ones who said no.

  She felt a heavy weight settle inside her, and knew it was the responsibility she carried around with her. Always. . .

  'Try not to tire yourself out,' she advised Abbie before turning sharply on her heels and leaving the room, aware that she was once again very close to tears. What was it about Jonathan Hunter that affected her in this way?

  What on earth was wrong with her? she chastised herself later as she accompanied Mr Gilchrist on his round. But she knew the answer to that all too well. She had chosen a life for herself in the last two years, a life that was necessarily apart from friendships of any kind, and Jonathan Hunter and his family, with their witty dialogues and underlying kindness, broke through that defence, showing her all too vividly glimpses of what she was missing. Just those brief glimpses made her yearn for something she couldn't have: friends, stimulating conversation, a social life that at times could become too hectic. All gone now. And in its place was loneliness, silence, pretence—and the latter was something she had, ironically, never been good at!

  She drank her morning coffee alone in the canteen. Through choice. She had only worked at the clinic for six months, but she had already learnt during that time that making friends with any of the other midwives meant familiarity, and familiarity encouraged questions, questions she had no intention of answering. So she kept herself aloof. And alone. . .

  'Mind if I join you?'

  She looked up sharply at the familiar sound of that voice.

  'Jonathan. . .!' She recognised him instantly, looking about them uncomfortably, noticing several curious glances being cast their way by other members of staff also taking their coffee-breaks, the female glances openly admiring as they looked at Jonathan.

  Most of the staff were aware that Abbie Hunter was staying in the clinic, and they possibly also recognised Jonathan as having visited his sister-in-law during the last two days. His presence here now wasn't going to comply with Gaye's wish for a quiet, unobtrusive life at all!

  'I'm afraid you've come into the wrong room, Mr Hunter.' She deliberately made her voice slightly louder than normal. 'The visitors' tea room is—'

  'But I don't want the visitors' tea room,' he cut in smoothly, uncaring of the interest they were engaging. 'I want to have coffee with you,' he announced determinedly as he sat down in the chair opposite hers at the table.

  Gaye closed her eyes, groaning softly, only to find Jonathan looking across at her with calm query when she opened them again. 'Not here,' she told him with soft intensity, willing him to get up and leave.

  Which he didn't, of course, do! This man, she decided, had a habit of being in the wrong place at the wrong time—and he had the ability to take her with him!

  'Why not?' He looked about the room curiously, a large, well-lit room, its windows facing out over the clinic gardens. 'It seems very pleasant in here.' He turned back to Gaye, looking down into her cup. 'The coffee looks good too.'

  'It is,' she confirmed impatiently. 'But you aren't supposed to be in here. And you're drawing attention to the two of us,' she told him more forcefully.

  Jonathan tilted his head as he gave her a considering glance. 'And you don't like that, do you?' he said slowly, obviously completely unconcerned himself at the attention his extreme good looks were drawing in their direction. 'They're only curious, Gaye.' He shrugged dismissively. 'It isn't important.'

  'It is to me,' she insisted. 'I don't like being the subject of gossip and speculation.' She shuddered at the thought of it.

  There had already been enough of that over the last two years without it all starting up again. Anonymity was the reason she lived the way that she did; she had no intention of having that taken away because of this man's determination to make a nuisance of himself!

  Jonathan gave a smile. 'I've got news for you, Gaye: there is no way on earth you will ever stop people gossiping or speculating about you, or anybody else! I learnt that years ago, and I've learnt not to let it bother me.'

  'Well, it bothers me!' She pushed away her half-drunk cup of coffee before standing up. 'I think I'll go back to work now.'

  It was only once she was outside in the corridor, and found Jonathan at her side, that she realised he must have followed her from the room. She was tall herself, but he towered well over her, and the broad width of his shoulders in his fitted suit seemed to offer a protection she so badly needed— No! She didn't need anyone, least of all a man like Jonathan Hunter, a man who, in his own words, had the newspapers and gossip-mongers following his every move. She didn't want any part of that!

  'Shouldn't you be getting back to work too?' she said pointedly as he made no move to leave her side.

  He gave that slow, lazy smile that caused an instant fluttering sensation in her chest. 'One of the advantages of being a part-owner of a company: I'm answerable only to myself concerning the amount of time I put in at the office.'

  Which meant he could hang around here all day being a pest if he chose to do so!

  'Well, some of us aren't that lucky,' she told him bluntly as she stopped outside her ward. 'Goodbye again, Mr Hun—'

  'It was Jonathan earlier,' he reminded her gruffly as he put a lightly restraining hand on her arm, letting her know he had noticed that slip in her defences earlier. 'Gaye, there are some things I want to talk to you about—'

  'What things?' She had become suddenly still, her expression apprehension as she stared up at him with wide green eyes.

  Jonathan looked down at her with concern. 'Gaye— You're right,' he said as two junior midwives went past them in the corridor, giggling and talking softly together, obviously about the two of them. 'This isn't the place for this. I'll pick you up here when you finish work, and we can go for a drink somewhere and talk—'

  'No! I mean— No.' She forced herself to remain calm. 'I—have things to do straight after work. I— Perhaps I could meet you later,' she went on agitatedly, not really wanting to meet him at all, but conscious of those things he might want to talk to her about. Maybe this was the reason he had been so quiet the last two days; he had been patiently biding his time, knew he only had to say the right words to get her to agree to meet him, after all. Abbie Hunter was wrong; this man wasn't nice at all! 'There's a pub just around the corner from my home. The Swan. I'll meet you there at nine-thirty,' she told him brusquely, moving away from his restraining hand as she turned to leave.

  'Gaye. . .?' Jonathan called softly after her down the corridor.

  She drew in a deep breath before turning reluctantly to face him. 'Yes?' she sighed.

 
He smiled again. 'If I arrive first, what shall I order you to drink?'

  She couldn't respond to the gentle teasing in his voice, or that smile that had affected her so much seconds earlier; she was too tense, too worried to be able to relax. What things did he want to talk to her about? What did he know?

  'If you think you know so much about me, then I suggest you guess!' she bit out tautly, this time leaving without hindrance.

  But she couldn't resist a glance back before going through the double doors of the ward, startled as she found Jonathan still standing exactly where she had left him, a perplexed expression on his face as he returned her gaze. Why should he be the one feeling perplexed? He wasn't the one on the defensive! 'Nine-thirty,' he confirmed.

  Gaye gave him one last frowning look before hurrying back to work. She had thought he was trouble the first time she'd looked at him—and he had done nothing since that time to disabuse her of her belief!

  CHAPTER FOUR

  What things was Jonathan going to find to talk to Gaye about?

  He had arrived at The Swan shortly before nine-thirty, had bought a whisky for himself, and a glass of white wine for Gaye—because she looked more like a white wine drinker than beer!—and now he was left sitting on tenterhooks at a corner table of the rapidly filling public house, desperately searching his brain for something important enough to talk to her about that warranted the two of them meeting like this!

  Because there was absolutely nothing he could think of! He had come out with his statement initially in sheer desperation because he couldn't think of any other way to stop her just walking away from him, ever conscious of the fact that Abbie and Conor were due to be discharged at any time; with that his reason to visit the clinic, and see Gaye, would be gone. . .

  But now he was left with the problem of what to talk to Gaye about! She wasn't going to be too happy with him if—

  She had arrived!

  He had been keeping a surreptitious eye on the door, while at the same time trying to look as if he wasn't really waiting for anyone, despite the obviousness of the glass of white wine. Because a part of him hadn't been sure Gaye would turn up. . . And he could imagine nothing worse than having to get up and leave, with everyone else in the room aware he had been stood up. Not that it had ever happened to him before, but with Gaye he had already learnt to expect the unexpected.

  Like this evening. She seemed different again. Because he knew, if she was here at all, it was under protest, and he hadn't really known what to expect of her. Of course the uniform was gone, but so were the jeans and sweatshirt he had seen her in a couple of days ago, and in their place was a green silk blouse tucked into a pencil-slim black skirt, her legs long and shapely beneath its short length, the heels on her neat black shoes adding to her height. She looked gorgeous! Something, Jonathan noticed with a scowl, that every other man in the room appreciated.

  Those male heads continued to turn as she crossed the room to join him, golden-blonde hair loose down her back, an enigmatic smile on those full, sensuous lips, green eyes bright and glowing.

  She was beautiful, Jonathan acknowledged for the dozenth time. It still seemed incredible to him that she wasn't already married, or otherwise involved. But she claimed she wasn't, and he had no reason to doubt her. Except for the slightly uneasy feeling he had that she was keeping something from him, a feeling added to by the fact that she was so determined to keep him away from her home. She had done it again this evening, arranging to meet him here so that he didn't call for her. That, he admitted, he didn't like. But for the moment just seeing her was enough. It would have to be!

  He stood up as she reached the table. 'I'm glad you could make it,' he told her warmly.

  She looked at him from beneath lowered lashes as she sat down. 'I said I would be here.' She spoke in those husky tones that he found so arousing. 'Did you think I wouldn't?'

  He hadn't been sure, he admitted to himself now. Her sudden acquiescence earlier could just have been her way of getting rid of him. Although, if she hadn't turned up, there was always the danger of him arriving at the home she was at such pains to keep him away from. . .!

  He smiled as he sat down next to her. 'I got you a white wine; I hope that's okay?'

  She smelt heavenly, nothing too heavy or floral, but a perfume as uniquely beautiful as the woman herself.

  She took a sip of the wine, relaxing back in the chair as she did so. 'It's fine, thank you. I'm glad to see it's still nice in here; I wondered, after I had suggested it, if it had changed.' She looked about them appreciatively.

  It was one of those up-market pubs that seemed to be flourishing at the moment—plush carpets, comfortable chairs, wallpaper on the walls, no busty barmaid behind the bar but a plump, motherly looking woman and a middle-aged man who looked as if he might be her husband.

  But Jonathan had little interest in their surroundings. 'How long is it since you were last in here?' Despite the fact that he had voiced the question casually, Gaye gave him a sharp look before replying.

  'A while,' she said noncommittally.

  Very helpful! 'I just thought that, as it is effectively your local—'

  'I rarely go into public houses,' she told him abruptly.

  That put him firmly in his place! 'Believe it or not,' he returned dryly, 'neither do I!'

  Gaye turned to give him a considering look, her gaze extremely direct as she took in his appearance—the pale lemon shirt, brown jacket, and beige trousers. 'I believe you,' she finally answered.

  Now he felt overdressed! But this was as casual as it got; he drew the line at wearing jeans, as the majority of men in the room were doing. Warm, and uncomfortable, they always managed to look creased and well-worn too.

  Gaye was still watching him, and suddenly she laughed, that light, melodic sound he had heard from her only once before. It was worth waiting for! The sound itself was magical, but her eyes also became greener, her face alight with what looked like almost childish pleasure. He found the effect so enchanting that he didn't even mind that it was him she was obviously laughing at!

  'You look fine as you are,' she assured him, taking another sip of her wine. 'And this wine is just the way I like it—cool and dry.'

  'Careful, Gaye,' he drawled. 'If you're too nice to me, I might take that as a sign of encouragement.'

  She gave a mocking shake of her head. 'I believe you're far too intelligent to think that!'

  Jonathan shrugged. 'I believe intelligence goes out the window when a man is with a woman whom he finds attractive.'

  Gaye didn't actually move away, not physically, and yet Jonathan could sense her inner withdrawal from him. Damn. The evening hadn't been in the least tense until that moment; what an idiot he was! This woman wasn't like any other woman he had dated over the years, didn't respond to flirting—or, in fact, the truth!

  'See what I mean!' he said with mock self-disgust. 'Stupid, or what?'

  To his relief, she actually laughed again. 'I doubt it happens to you very often,' she responded teasingly.

  Around this woman, all too often! Jordan, for one, would have been amazed at his lack of finesse where Gaye was concerned. He was supposed to be the charmingly persuasive one of the family—so much for charm now! He had more chance of succeeding with her when he made an idiot of himself!

  'More often and more recently than you might realise,' he said dryly.

  'Oh, I don't know.' She raised sceptical brows. 'I think allowing yourself to be taken into Theatre for the birth of your future nephew ranks up there with—'

  'Okay, okay.' He held up his hand, grinning at her. 'Let's call it quits on that one, and start again.' He held out his hand. 'Hi, I'm Jonathan Hunter.' He introduced himself lightly.

  After a short hesitation she briefly shook his proffered hand. 'Gaye Royal,' she supplied shyly.

  Jonathan nodded. 'It's an unusual name.'

  She looked at him piercingly, and once again Jonathan could sense her inner withdrawal. So much for start
ing again! The trouble was, he didn't know what to do or say to her, didn't know where the minefields were.

  'Royal?' she said sharply. 'I don't think—'

  'No—Gaye,' he corrected her instantly, knowing as he could feel the tension leave her that it had been the right thing to say.

  It was becoming more and more obvious, as he got to know her, that Gaye had something to hide. And she was determined he wouldn't find out what it was. Ordinarily he would have respected her wish for privacy. But it was that very privacy which was keeping him from getting closer to her, acting as a barrier he couldn't get by, past, or through.

  Lazy charm had got him where he wanted to go most of his life, but that didn't mean he didn't also have his own share of the Hunter determination. Because he most certainly did. Where Gaye was concerned, it had kicked into overdrive!

  'Do you have any brothers or sisters, Gaye?' he continued conversationally.

  'No,' she bit out. 'Why?' Her gaze was openly direct.

  'No reason.' He shrugged. 'Just taking an interest.'

  'I would rather you didn't,' she snapped. 'You asked to meet me so that you could discuss something with me,' she reminded him coolly.

  He had known this had to come, was surprised it had taken this long. He was pleased, he had to admit. At least he had been able to hear her laugh again, spend some time with her, before she got up and walked out on him!

  He inhaled deeply. 'The thing is, Gaye—'

  'Gaye!' A hearty male voice broke in on their conversation. 'It is you, isn't it, Gaye?' The man came to an expectant halt in front of their table.

  Jonathan looked up at him with narrowed eyes, grateful for the interruption. But as he took in the good-looking man with unruly dark hair and laughing blue eyes—eyes that looked at Gaye with open pleasure—he wasn't sure he was going to continue feeling that way! There was also something vaguely familiar about the raffishly attractive stranger. Jonathan felt as if he should know him. Yet he knew he had never met the man before. He would have remembered someone this charismatic. However, that feeling of familiarity continued. . .