To Be A Husband. Carole Mortimer
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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-seven.
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.
‘Are you married, is that it?’ he guessed with a sinking feeling; he could never remember being this intrigued by a woman before. ‘If you are, then I’m sorry if I—’
‘I’m not married,’ Gaye assured him. ‘I—I have another commitment this evening.’
The feeling of elation that she wasn’t married, after all—his worst fear!—was instantly followed by irritation so strong he had trouble containing it. She was seeing someone else! The thought of her being with another man, smiling at him, laughing with him, kissing him, perhaps doing even more than kissing him, suddenly filled Jonathan with such rage, he had to grip the steering wheel tightly to control it.
What the hell was wrong with him? He was thirty-seven years old, had known many beautiful women in his lifetime, and it had never bothered him before that there had been other men in their lives before him, or, indeed, after him. Yet the thought of some other man laying naked with Gaye made him so angry he could actually have hit something—or someone!
‘Break it!’ he snarled—and then felt surprised at his own vehemence. If Gilchrist had acted out of character earlier when he’d apologised to Gaye, then he was acting out of character too now; he was the charming one of the family—he left the arrogance to Jarrett!
Gaye gave him a startled look. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Never mind,’ he muttered, shaking his head in self-disgust. ‘What about tomorrow evening?’
‘I—I’m sorry, but no.’ She gave him a pained look
‘The