To Be a Husband

by Carole Mortimer

  As long as it wasn't him she threw he didn't care what they ate. 'None,' he assured her—unlike poor Jarrett, who had a definite aversion to shellfish, as it had an aversion to him!

  'What about your friend?' she asked stiffly.

  Still a touchy subject, he thought disappointedly. Well, it would have to be so; he was going to help these two lovely ladies even if it didn't win him any popularity contests!

  'None that I'm aware of,' he said. 'If there are I'll let you know before tonight. Would you like me to come and pick you up after work?'

  Gaye shook her head. 'You've already been helpful enough for one day, thank you,' she told him enigmatically. 'Besides, I have some shopping to do after work if we're to eat anything at all tonight.'

  He frowned his consternation. 'I don't want to cause you any extra work with this dinner party.' He never entertained at home in his apartment, always took friends and family alike out to a restaurant to eat. He could throw together some simple meals for himself if he had to, but he very much doubted that was the sort of meal Gaye and her mother intended preparing for this evening. Damn, he simply hadn't thought of the extra work involved for her when he'd accepted the invitation! 'Maybe we could eat out— No,' he realised at a pointed glance from Gaye. 'Your mother wouldn't be able to cope with that just yet.' He gave a self-impatient frown. 'Damn, I haven't thought this thing through properly at all!' He had been so intent on spending time with Gaye, on helping Marilyn, and therefore Gaye too, that he hadn't given the logistics of dinner at their home too much thought.

  'Leave the thinking to me, Jonathan.' Gaye put a placating hand on his arm. 'Just make sure you arrive on time this evening. And I promise you won't end up eating beans on toast!'

  He barely repressed his expression of revulsion. Baked beans he couldn't stand, after childhood meals put together by a mother who didn't really care what they ate, as long as they didn't whine about it. Jordan had been the one who liked baked beans, so the two boys had quickly learnt to swap something on Jordan's plate for the unwanted beans on Jonathan's. That way none of them had ended up in trouble for not eating the food their mother had 'taken the trouble to prepare'. Tipping the contents of a can into a saucepan, and letting them warm through, had never seemed particularly arduous to Jonathan, but by the time he was ten he had learnt to guard his tongue around his mother. Or pay the consequences!

  Strange. He had thought more of his mother in the last few days than he could remember doing for years. Gaye's obvious closeness to her mother might have triggered it; the two women were obviously so close, as close as a mother and daughter could ever be, and yet he and his own mother—!

  He hadn't even seen her for years, and he had no interest in doing so now, either. His mother had been married to her third husband the last time he heard of her ten years ago; as time passed, and her beauty had faded, so had the wealth of the men she had been able to cajole into marriage. He didn't doubt that one day he, Jarrett or Jordan would have a contrite mother on their doorstep hoping to live off the fortune they had amassed since she walked out on them over twenty years ago. His mother seemed even more repugnant than usual in the face of Gaye's relationship with her own mother. . .

  'I was only joking, Jonathan.' Gaye seemed to have been watching the emotions flickering across his face, obviously concerned by his look of disgust.

  It was an effort, but Jonathan forced himself to relax. Damn. He didn't want to think about his mother. In fact, he refused to do so any more.

  'You leave the joking to me,' he returned lightly, 'and I'll leave the cooking to you! And try to look on this evening as a positive thing,' he advised more seriously. 'Hopefully, the first step towards your mother's recovery,' he encouraged.

  'I'll try.' Gaye nodded slowly, although she still looked uncertain. 'I just don't want my mother upset in any way—'

  'Ben Travis will not upset her, I can assure you of that,' Jonathan said with certainty. 'In fact, he's one of the most charming men I know. Your mother won't be able to help but like him— What is it?' he prompted as Gaye stared at him.

  'I —I mistakenly thought your friend was a woman,' she finally explained awkwardly.

  She had believed he was bringing a woman guest with him this evening! Could that possibly be the reason she had been so opposed to the idea? And, if so, why. . .?

  He laughed softly. 'Ben is very definitely male. You'll see what I mean when you meet him this evening,' he responded at her questioning look. 'You surely didn't think I would be so crass as to totally upset the table arrangement by having three women and only one man?'

  'I wouldn't have put it past you,' Gaye returned tartly.

  But Jonathan could see her remark was only a token attempt at saving face, that Gaye was still too surprised at his friend being male and not female to be able to hide it well. She obviously hadn't liked the fact that he was bringing a woman with him. Possibly because she suspected there was more than a friendship involved in the association. . .? Interesting. . .

  And this evening promised to be even more so. Jonathan could hardly wait!

  CHAPTER NINE

  Gaye knew she must have checked her appearance half a dozen times as she waited for their guests to arrive!

  She didn't want to appear in the least businesslike, so a blouse and skirt had been vetoed from the first, but she wasn't sure the neat black fitted dress she had finally chosen to wear, with its short length, was right either. . .

  Her mother, when Gaye had entered the kitchen fifteen minutes earlier, had told her she looked 'beautiful'—and then promptly suggested she wear her hair loose about her shoulders rather than secured at her nape with a black slide, because she looked 'prettier' with it that way!

  She had followed her mother's advice, not because she wanted to look prettier, but because she hadn't been at all sure of the severity of her hairstyle herself. But now she wondered if she looked too much as if she wanted to be found attractive!

  Her nervousness about this evening wasn't helped by the fact that she was positive Jonathan had picked up this morning on her dislike of his friend apparently being female. . .!

  She hadn't been able to help it. She was fast learning to care for Jonathan Hunter, enjoyed his company, had enjoyed those brief times she had been in his arms even more. But caring for Jonathan could be even more disastrous to her life than her feelings for Richard had turned out to be. . .

  'This is just like old times, isn't it, darling?' her mother enthused as they put the finishing touches to the avocado and prawns they were serving as the starter to their meal, then put the elegantly prepared plates in the refrigerator to keep cool as they concentrated on the main course.

  Gaye looked across at her mother now. This was the first dinner party they had given, the first time they had entertained at all, since— 'Not quite, Mummy,' she returned huskily.

  Her mother returned her gaze blankly for several seconds, and then she smiled brightly. 'I'm sure it's going to be a wonderful success, darling,' she pronounced before turning her attention to the individual beef Wellingtons they had decided to cook with baby potatoes, peas and carrots. 'And I do like your Jonathan,' she added teasingly, smiling affectionately at Gaye.

  She could feel the hot colour enter her cheeks. 'He isn't my Jonathan, Mummy,' she answered more sharply than she intended. 'He's just a friend,' she amended less tensely.

  'If you say so, dear,' her mother accepted vaguely. 'Would you just like to check the table one more time to make sure we haven't forgotten anything?'

  Gaye was glad of the excuse to leave the kitchen, although she knew it was completely unnecessary for her to check the dining table; her mother wouldn't have omitted anything. Gaye still found it so odd that her mother continued to function normally on every level except the part of her that refused to acknowledge the man she loved was dead. . .

  Gaye stood in the dining room, staring sightlessly at the table. If Jonathan were to die now would she—?

  No! This couldn't be
happening to her! She didn't want this to happen to her!

  But, whether she wanted it or not, she suddenly knew she had already fallen in love with Jonathan Hunter. . .

  She sat down abruptly on one of the four chairs placed about the perfectly set table. Was she completely insane? Had she lost all her wits? Jonathan was a confirmed bachelor, if ever she had met one, and still she, with all her own scepticism about love, had fallen in love with him! It was—

  'What are you doing, darling?' her mother prompted gently as she stood in the open doorway. 'The doorbell rang a minute or so ago; I thought you had gone to answer it. Are you feeling quite well, Gaye?' She frowned her concern at Gaye's continued silence.

  Gaye looked at her mother for several numbed seconds—and then she deliberately shook off her feelings of disorientation. The man accompanying Jonathan might be able to help her mother; that was what was important, not her own real—or imagined—feelings for Jonathan!

  'I'm fine, Mummy.' She stood up determinedly, smoothing down the skirt of her fitted dress, nevertheless showing a long expanse of shapely leg as she joined her mother in the hallway. 'Everything looks lovely.' She gave her mother an impulsive kiss on the cheek. 'Including you,' she added affectionately.

  Her mother did look wonderful tonight, wearing a blue dress the exact colour of her eyes, her body full and voluptuous, but by no means fat, her legs as shapely as Gaye's, high-heeled shoes adding a little to her diminutive height. Her face was as beautifully unlined as ever, a pleased flush to her cheeks at Gaye's spontaneous compliment, her only jewellery a pair of large gold and sapphire earrings that glinted in the smooth blondeness of her hair. Her mother always wore the minimum of jewellery—'Never gild the lily', Gaye's father had always said— Her father.

  The two men waiting at the door. . .

  'I think we had better go and let in our guests, Mummy,' she joked even as she linked arms with her mother, the doorbell having rung a second time—although Gaye still had no awareness of it ringing before. Because she had been lost in thoughts of Jonathan. . .

  It was time to bury those thoughts firmly and simply concentrate on the evening ahead.

  Although she wasn't sure that was going to be so easy to do as she stared at Jonathan after opening the front door!

  He looked devastatingly attractive under normal circumstances, but in a black fitted evening suit and snowy white shirt—!

  Gaye felt as if all the breath had been knocked from her body, her legs weak, her eyes wide.

  The dinner suit emphasised the powerful width of Jonathan's shoulders, his narrow waist and tapered hips, his hair appearing more golden than ever as it brushed the collar of the black jacket, his skin looking more tanned too, his eyes deeply golden. He was gorgeous!

  'You could have warned me, Jonathan,' drawled an unfamiliar male voice. 'Twin visions of loveliness!'

  Gaye forced her attention onto the man standing at Jonathan's side. 'Charming' and 'very definitely male' were the ways in which Jonathan had described his friend Ben; the man's opening remark had proved the former, and one only had to look at him to know the latter! Not quite as tall as Jonathan, but as powerfully built, he looked elegantly distinguished. He was probably aged in his early sixties, his hair snowy white, although this in no way detracted from his youthfully handsome face, deep blue eyes twinkling teasingly as he easily met her own.

  Gaye's smile was a little shy as she looked up at him, holding out her hand. 'Mr Travis,' she greeted smoothly. 'Please, do come inside.'

  'How silly of us to keep the two of you standing on the doorstep.' Her mother laughed in light dismissal as she led the way through to the lounge.

  'You were worth waiting for,' the older man murmured. 'I can't tell you how much I've looked forward to meeting you,' he went on, seemingly mesmerised by Marilyn's glowing beauty.

  And her mother was glowing, blushing almost girlishly at the obvious compliment.

  'What a lovely thing to say,' she returned warmly. 'And do please call me Marilyn,' she invited as she moved to pour them all a glass of wine.

  'It's all true too,' Jonathan said ruefully at Gaye's side. 'It seems,' he continued, the older couple out of earshot as Ben helped Marilyn with the drinks, 'that Ben has always been a Marilyn Palmer fan.' He grimaced. 'All my persuasive charm on the telephone last night was completely unnecessary; he would have paid me just for the chance of meeting your mother—Only a figure of speech, Gaye,' he clarified as she looked at him with surprise. 'Ben is here this evening to observe only; his fee will be the meal you give him!'

  She relaxed slightly, but only slightly; she wasn't about to let Jonathan pay any expenses. As she had already assured him, money was not a problem.

  'Then let's hope he enjoys it,' she returned conversationally.

  Jonathan took a light grasp of her arms, turning her to face him. 'No one is trying to step on your independent toes,' he assured her. 'Least of all me.'

  She stared up at him for several long seconds, and then she sighed, forcing some of the tension out of her body. 'I'm sorry. I'm not being very grateful for all that you're trying to do. And I really do appreciate—'

  'Hey.' Jonathan shook her very slightly. 'I don't believe you exactly asked for my help; it was thrust upon you.' He gave a grin. 'Your appreciation is the last thing I want.'

  'Nevertheless, and no matter what happens—' she reached up on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek '—you have it,' she told him.

  'Perhaps the two of us should go out to dinner, Marilyn,' Ben Travis said as he stood across the room watching them, a glass of wine in his hand, 'and leave these two young people on their own. . .'

  'Don't tease, Benjamin,' Marilyn reproved lightly. 'You're making Gaye blush.'

  And indeed he was. Kissing Jonathan had been completely spontaneous, so much so she had completely forgotten they had an audience!

  'Benjamin?' Jonathan teased very effectively diverting the attention away from Gaye.

  For which she was very grateful! What on earth was she doing? Minutes ago she had been in a complete panic at the thought of loving this man, and within minutes of his arrival she had kissed him!

  'I've never liked the shortening of names, Jonathan,' Gaye's mother told him as she handed him a glass. 'I have always insisted on being called by my full name of Marilyn, and I prefer to do the same with other people.'

  'So that's you told, boy.' Ben gave Jonathan a hearty slap on the back. 'Marilyn prefers to call me Benjamin. What was that, Jonathan?' he persisted as Jonathan muttered something under his breath.

  'Nothing of any importance,' the younger man prevaricated.

  Gaye turned away to hide her smile of amusement. She had been standing closer to Jonathan than the other two, and had quite clearly heard his muttered remark: You would accept being called Fido by Marilyn! The thing was, Jonathan was probably quite right; her mother had always had this mesmerising effect on men. Of any age.

  'What sort of work do you do, Benjamin?' Her mother skillfully changed the subject as she looked at the older man enquiringly.

  Gaye instantly tensed again completely unprepared for any sort of confrontation this early in the evening. She could see by Jonathan's taut expression, as he watched the older man, that he hadn't expected this either.

  But her mother was a wonderful hostess, and she had always claimed that if a person was encouraged to talk about themselves, then they would go home from the evening having enjoyed themselves. Gaye had watched her mother use this ploy over the years as she put guests at their ease. Besides, her mother was a good listener, genuinely interested in other people. And it showed.

  Ben gave a lightly dismissive laugh, not appearing in the least disconcerted by the question. 'Now, with this thatch of white hair, do I look as if I still work at anything?' He answered the question with one of his own.

  'Oh, I don't know.' Gaye's mother gave him a considering look from beneath lowered lashes. 'There are so many professions nowadays that don't have a retirement age
. Judges, for example.'

  Ben gave a rumble of laughter. 'I can assure you I'm not—nor have I ever been—a judge.' He sobered, blue gaze suddenly very intent. 'That sort of power over the lives, or deaths, of others has never appealed to me.'

  'We don't have the death sentence any more, Ben,' Jonathan told him dryly.

  'Prison—any sort of prison—is a living death, Jonathan,' the older man returned harshly.

  As her mother's emotional denial, self-inflicted as it seemed to be, was a prison of a kind. . .

  Gaye looked across at Ben Travis with new eyes, seeing past the charm and distinguished good looks, noticing for the first time the deep grooves beside his mouth and nose, not put there by laughter but by pain.

  She wished now that she had asked Jonathan more about the older man. She made a mental note to talk to him about Ben another time. But one thing she did know just from looking at the older man was that he had had his own share of unhappiness in his life. . .

  'Shall we sit down?' she suggested brightly. 'We look as if we're standing in a dentist's waiting room!' She couldn't help a brief glance at Jonathan as she made the latter statement, remembering all too well how he had once castigated her concerning her formality with him— told her that she made him sound like her dentist!

  'Heaven forbid!' Ben shuddered as they all sat down,

  Gaye and Jonathan in armchairs, Marilyn and Ben on the three-seater sofa. 'I realise it isn't very manly to admit it—' he grimaced '—but when a dentist comes at me with that long, thin needle I just— Never mind,' he dismissed quickly, as if the mere thought of it made him cringe. 'All I meant to say is that this evening in no way compares to a visit to the dentist!' He looked across at Marilyn with open admiration.

  'Let's hope you still feel that way once you've eaten!' Gaye's mother returned laughingly.