To Be A Husband - Кэрол Мортимер - Читать онлайн любовный роман

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Title Page CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN CHAPTER TWELVE CHAPTER THIRTEEN CHAPTER FOURTEEN CHAPTER FIFTEEN CHAPTER SIXTEEN Copyright

“But you won’t go out with me?”

“Jonathan.” Gaye seemed to be choosing her words carefully. “I’m not married. I’m not engaged. I’m not involved with anyone. Nor do I dislike you.”

“Then...”

“But neither am I in the market for the sort of frivolous, meaningless affair I’m sure you have in mind,” she stated firmly. “And despite what you may think to the contrary, I do not mean that insultingly.”

“You don’t?” Now he was the one having trouble holding back a smile; she certainly had him weighed up. Or, at least, she had, until now.... He couldn’t imagine indulging in a meaningless, frivolous affair with her, either. He wasn’t sure what he had in mind, but it wouldn’t be meaningless!

Jarrett, Jonathan and Jordan

are

Some men are meant to marry!

Meet three brothers: Jarrett is the eldest, Hunter

by name, hunter by nature. Jonathan’s in the

middle and a real charmer; there’s never been a

woman whom he wanted and couldn’t have.

Jordan is the youngest, and he’s devilishly

attractive, but he’s determined never to succumb

to emotional commitment.

These bachelor brothers appear to have it all—

looks, wealth, power...but what about love?

That’s where Abbie, Gaye and Stazy come in....

As Jarrett, Jonathan and Jordan are about to

discover—wanting a woman is one thing,

winning her heart is quite another!

Look out for Jordan’s story!

Coming next month in

To Be a Bridegroom

#2051

To Be a Husband

Carole Mortimer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

GAYE looked up at the man as he walked nonchalantly down the corridor from the security desk toward the nurses’ station where she sat. He appeared in no hurry; in fact he strolled along as if he had all the time in the world. Which was unusual in this private maternity home; the men who visited were either new fathers already, or about to become so at any moment. In either case they were usually much more eager to be with their wives or partners at this time than this man appeared to be.

A reluctant father, Gaye decided ruefully. But his casual stroll down the hallway allowed her time to study him even as she waited for the telephone call she had made to be answered. And this man was definitely worth studying—even to Gaye’s jaundiced eye...

He was tall, well over six feet, with thick golden-blond hair that was inclined to curl, and a face so perfectly sculptured, he might have been too perfect if it weren’t for the fact that at some stage in his life his nose had been broken, leaving it slightly crooked, adding a certain arrogance to his aristocratic face. His dark suit, Gaye could see, no matter how easily he wore it, was tailor-made, and very expensive, the pristine white of the shirt he wore beneath it emphasising his deep mahogany tan.

That tan was even more noticeable as he reached her desk and smiled, his teeth very white and even. ‘Hello,’ he greeted warmly, laughter-lines crinkling beside the sensuality of his mouth, his gaze appreciative.

Those eyes held Gaye mesmerised as she put her hand over the receiver and looked up at him enquiringly, letting the phone carry on ringing at the other end; it remained unanswered—expectant fathers, despite their wives’ obvious condition, could sometimes be most difficult to contact!

But Gaye had never seen eyes the colour of this man’s before. A deep, beautiful gold—the colour of gold when it was melted down to liquid, variations of light and dark. Lion’s eyes. Amazing!

But as he looked to be in his mid-to-late thirties he was probably well aware of the effect his looks had on women, and Gaye made sure her voice sounded businesslike as she answered him. ‘Can I help you?’ she enquired.

That devastating smile remained. ‘I’m sure yon can, Nurse—Royal.’ He filled in her surname after a glance at the name-tag pinned to her uniform just above her left breast. ‘My name is Hunter, and—’

‘Hunter!’ she repeated sharply, putting down the telephone receiver to stand up abruptly. ‘I was just trying to contact you. We’ve been telephoning you for the last hour—’

‘You have?’ He frowned his puzzlement at her sudden urgency on hearing his name. ‘But, as I understood the situation, Abbie was only brought in a couple of hours ago—’

‘In the early stages of premature labour,’ Gaye confirmed, even as she spoke sizing him up for the gown he was shortly going to need. ‘Mrs Hunter is on her way to Theatre now. If we hurry, you can still be present for the birth.’ As her husband so rightly said, Abbie Hunter had only been admitted two hours ago; her onset of labour was only three weeks early, but there were other complications that had prompted the specialist to decide on an emergency Caesarean; that was the reason they had been trying so desperately to contact her husband. Thank God he had turned up; his wife had been distraught at the thought of him not being with her.

Obviously this man could have no idea of the urgency of his wife’s condition, but, even so, from the way he had strolled down the corridor minutes ago, he hadn’t been in too much of a hurry to get here, anyway! And his wife was lovely, absolutely beautiful, with a warm personality, and obviously so worried that something was going to go wrong during the birth of the baby she so much wanted.

Gaye’s eyes were coolly green as she looked across at the other woman’s husband. ‘It was my understanding that Mrs Hunter wanted you to be present at the birth.’ She quirked blond brows at his obvious reluctance to comply.

He swallowed hard, looking as if he had gone slightly pale beneath his tan. ‘She does?’

He was wasting precious time, deliberately so, Gaye felt sure. But it was the patient’s welfare that she was concerned with, not his—and Abbie Hunter wanted him with her at their child’s birth.

‘Come along with me,’ she told him briskly. ‘I’ll see you gowned up, and take you to Theatre myself.’ She strode ahead of him down the corridor, tall and loose-limbed, her blue uniform doing little to hide the perfect curves beneath.

Something Mr Hunter was all too aware of, Gaye realised with irritation as she turned back to check he was following her. Not only was he right behind her, but he was watching the gentle sway of her hips with obvious male appreciation! Her opinion of men wasn’t very high at the best of times, but really! This man’s wife was in labour, about to give birth to his child—and he was not only reluctant to be with her in Theatre, but was ogling the attributes of another woman. Typical!

Gaye’s manner was even more frosty as she provided them both with Theatre gowns. In all her years of nursing, latterly specialising in midwifery, she had never had a patient’s husband being openly flirtatious with her!

To make matters worse, once they were in Theatre, he took one look at his wife as she lay sleepily on the operating table, and went almost the same colour green as the gown he wore. Wonderful! They were going to have a faller... !

It happened, of course. Quite a lot of men found it difficult to cope with normal childbirth, let alone under these circumstances. But Mr Hunter had seemed such a self-confident individual, she would never have guessed he was squeamish. It showed you never could tell...

‘Talk to your wife,’ Gaye encouraged softly; if he fainted then the Theatre team would just work around him where he fell!

He frowned down at her. ‘My wife? But—’

‘She’s sleepy, but awake,’ Gaye assured him. ‘Talk to her. It will help.’ Both of them, she hoped—Abbie Hunter to remain calm, her husband to stop from collapsing at their feet!

Pleasure lit up the violet-blue eyes of the woman on the operating table as she looked up and saw him, although she frowned slightly. ‘Jonathan...?’

‘Jarrett is on his way, Abbie,’ Jonathan reassured her calmly—despite his chalk-white face!—as he stepped forward to her side. ‘He’ll be with us as soon as he can.’

Well, at least he was doing his bit now, Gaye acknowledged with satisfaction. If they could just stop him from fainting...!

‘Just keep talking to her,’ Gaye continued to encourage. ‘And your son will be with you both very shortly.’ It didn’t surprise her that this couple knew the sex of their child, or indeed that they had already named him; the Hunter family, like most of the couples who chose to give birth here, were rich and affluent, and it was easier, as regards decorating the nursery and choosing clothes, if they knew the sex of their child before it was born.

Mr Gilchrist had begun the operation now, and it was not the time for a tall, dark-haired man to come striding in, unannounced and ungowned, quickly followed by a protesting midwife. What on earth—?

‘Will someone kindly get him out of my Theatre?’ the surgeon snarled impatiently as he continued to concentrate on his patient. ‘Anyone would think this was a damned circus, not an operating Theatre!’ he added disgustedly.

‘I’m not about to go anywhere, James,’ the tall, dark-haired man informed him imperiously. ‘That’s my wife you have there.’ He nodded towards Abbie Hunter. ‘And I intend being with her during the birth of our child.’

His wife? His child...?

Gaye looked from the dark intruder to the man standing at Abbie Hunter’s side, holding her hand; if the newcomer was her husband, then who on earth was he? James Gilchrist was right; this was turning into a circus—and she was in the middle of it!

James Gilchrist straightened, looking frowningly at Abbie Hunter’s husband. ‘I realise who you are, Jarrett,’ he accepted dryly, turning to the man at Abbie’s other side. ‘And whoever you are I suggest you get out and let us get on with the birth of this baby,’ he rasped.

The blond man stepped back, taking off his gown and handing it to the dark-haired man who had now come fully into the room. ‘With pleasure,’ he agreed gratefully. ‘I’ll be waiting outside,’ he told the man called Jarrett—before beating a hasty retreat.

Gaye followed him. Somehow she had made the most terrible gaffe of her career, had taken the wrong man in to see the birth of a baby. But Jonathan Hunter had let her do it! Why on earth hadn’t he told her he wasn’t Abbie’s husband? She was never going to live this down. And as for Mr Gilchrist—!

‘Exactly who are you?’ Gaye demanded once the two of them were back outside in the corridor, her green eyes flashing like twin jewels.

The colour was slowly coming back into the man’s cheeks, the gleam of humour returning into his eyes too. ‘Jonathan Hunter,’ he supplied unhelpfully, head tilting to one side as she still looked up at him questioningly. ‘Uncle, not father, of the baby,’ he explained.

Jarrett Hunter’s brother. Abbie Hunter’s brother-in-law.

Gaye thought back to the dark man who had stridden so assuredly into the operating Theatre demanding to be at his wife’s side, realising now that he had those same unusual golden eyes. But other than that there were no similarities between the two to indicate their relationship, one so tall, dark, and commanding, the other tall and golden-blond, with a lazy ease of charm. Although she had a feeling Jonathan Hunter could be just as arrogant as his brother if the occasion arose...

She looked at him irritatedly. ‘Why on earth didn’t you tell me that in the beginning?’

He raised mocking blond brows. ‘As I recall, you hardly gave me a chance to explain anything!’

Colour suffused her cheeks as she remembered the way she had reacted on hearing his name; as he claimed, she hadn’t really given him a chance to explain his relationship to Abbie Hunter. Part of the reason for that, she knew, but would never admit to anyone but herself, was the fact that she had felt the pull of his magnetic attraction from the first. And she had been angry with herself, and him, before he’d even opened his mouth! Her behaviour towards him had been all the sharper because of that.

‘If it makes you feel any better,’ Jonathan Hunter continued, ‘if Jarrett hadn’t arrived when he did, he would have expected me to be in there with Abbie.’ He nodded in the direction of the operating Theatre they had just left. ‘He and Abbie have only been married a couple of years, and this is their first child together. It’s unfortunate it happened a little earlier than expected, otherwise I can assure you you would have had no trouble whatsoever contacting Jarrett—because he would already have been at Abbie’s side! He only went off to his meeting this morning because Abbie insisted she was fine. But I can also assure you, if he hadn’t got here, and I had merely sat outside while Abbie gave birth, Jarrett would have made mincemeat of me!’ He grimaced with feeling.

Although he didn’t look too bothered at the prospect... Gaye had a feeling very little ruffled his smooth charm. Except...

‘Even if it meant you ended up being carried from the operating Theatre unconscious?’ she derided.

He grimaced again. ‘That wasn’t kind, Nurse Royal,’ he chided softly.

He hadn’t needed to look at her name-tag this time, had obviously remembered her name. Which, for some reason, irritated Gaye too. She was going to have some explaining to do once the Hunter baby was born and Mr Gilchrist had a free moment!

‘But true,’ she said pointedly.

‘It was that obvious?’ he muttered self-derisively.

‘Let’s put it this way,’ she teased. ‘I don’t think green is your colour!’

‘But I bet it’s yours!’ he returned, easily meeting and holding her gaze, open admiration in those golden depths as they looked directly into her eyes.

He was flirting with her again! Okay, so she might now know that he wasn’t married to Abbie Hunter, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t married to someone else. In fact, the chances were that he definitely was attached: his age, his good looks, that charm... He might even have children too. Although, from his behaviour earlier, he definitely hadn’t been present at their births!

‘I’ll show you to the waiting room,’ she told him briskly. ‘As soon as there is any news, I’m sure your brother will—’

‘Uncle Jonathan!’ a child’s voice called out delightedly. Gaye turned just in time to see an adorable bundle launching herself into Jonathan Hunter’s arms. Following close behind her was another tall, good-looking man, with unruly dark hair and devilish golden-coloured eyes.

One more Hunter! This time Gaye was sure of exactly who he was, because where Jarrett and Jonathan, apart from those eyes, managed to look nothing alike, this third man somehow seemed to look like both his brothers.

He also had Jonathan Hunter’s way of running an assessing eye over a woman—and the mischievous smile he sent in Gaye’s direction, before turning his attention back to his brother and the little girl, told her he had liked what he saw!

‘She refused to stay at home,’ he explained apologetically to his brother. ‘And when Charlie makes up her mind—’

‘She can be as doggedly determined as her mother,’ Jonathan accepted affectionately. ‘And we’re all like butter in her hands!’

‘Has Mummy had the baby yet?’ the little girl asked excitedly—although Gaye hadn’t needed to hear her call Abbie Hunter ‘Mummy’ to know that this was the other woman’s daughter from her first marriage; Charlie had the same beauty as her mother—the long dark hair, and the same violet-blue eyes. It was easy to see how this little girl could wind the Hunter men around her little finger; she was adorable!

‘Not yet, poppet,’ Jonathan answered reassuringly. ‘But this nice nurse tells me it won’t be long now.’

Charlie looked up at Gaye shyly, a dimple appearing in her cheeks as she smiled. ‘Is Mummy having the baby now?’

Gaye could feel herself melting as she looked at this beautiful child. ‘She certainly is,’ she told her warmly. ‘Do you want a brother or sister?’

‘Daddy says he wants a little girl who looks just like me,’ Charlie told her seriously. ‘But I want a brother.’

‘Another male for her to charm!’ Jonathan groaned, shaking his head.

‘Uncle Jonathan says he’s going to marry me when I grow up,’ Charlie confided guilelessly to Gaye. ‘But Daddy says he’s too old for me.’

‘Far too old,’ the newly arrived Hunter agreed mischievously. ‘I’m much more your age.’

Charlie shook her head. ‘Daddy says you’re too old for me too, Uncle Jordan,’ she told him regretfully.

Jonathan. Jarrett. And Jordan. Gaye’s head was spinning with the three Hunter men. And not just with their names. What a formidable trio they were!

‘The waiting room is just down the corridor to your left.’ She pointed them in the right direction. ‘I’ll go and arrange a pot of coffee for you,’ she offered. ‘What would you like to drink, Charlie?’ Her voice noticeably softened as she spoke to the little girl. She had always loved children, and Charlie Hunter was gorgeous!

‘A glass of milk, please, Nurse,’ the little girl accepted shyly.

‘Nurse Royal,’ Jonathan Hunter prompted gently.

‘You can call me Gaye,’ she told Charlie warmly, pointedly omitting to give the two men present the same privilege before going off to the kitchen to get the coffee and milk.

She needed the respite, felt as if her world had suddenly been invaded by a plethora of Hunters. Hopefully, there weren’t any more of them. Although, of course, another was just being born. If he was a boy, no doubt his name would begin with a J too—just to add to the confusion!

‘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 this 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 now!

‘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!

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