Carole Mortimer - To Be A Bridegroom

She couldn’t stay here now. She had to leave. She couldn’t possibly have seen the man she had thought she had—that person was far removed from the Hunter family—but it was enough that she had thought she recognised him.

She should never have accepted Jordan’s invitation in the first place!

‘I have to go, Jordan.’ She pulled abruptly out of his arms, already searching for the exit

Jordan looked stunned, frowning darkly once again. ‘Stazy—’

‘It’s been lovely,’ she told him distractedly—untruthfully! ‘We must do this again some time,’ she went on hurriedly, knowing she had no intention of seeing him again.

Escape! She had to get away!

Jordan’s mouth twisted. ‘I don’t have any more brothers’ weddings to invite you to!’ he said sardonically, looking totally perplexed by her need to leave so soon.

Stazy barely glanced at him, having located the door now, and began threading her way through the people to reach it. If she could just—

‘Stazy, what the hell are you doing?’ Jordan caught up with her as she got out into the hallway, swinging her round to face him, his humour of a few minutes ago once again replaced by brooding intensity. ‘I brought you here, I’ll take you home again,’ he stated harshly.

She understood his dilemma; his date walking out on him, quite so publicly, was the last thing he needed! But she couldn’t help that; she simply couldn’t stay here, felt too upset.

‘You can’t leave yet, Jordan.’ She shook her head. ‘But I—I have to go now!’

‘I’ll drive you home—’

‘No!’ she refused agitatedly. ‘Now please let me go—’

‘Having trouble, Jordan?’ came a gently sarcastic female voice. ‘And I always thought you had more luck with women than this.’

Jordan’s hand left Stazy’s arm as if she had stung him, his face a furiously cold mask as he turned to look at the other woman who now stood in the corridor.

Stazy looked at her too, intrigued by the effect she had had on Jordan. Tiny and blonde, she was absolutely beautiful, her face as small and perfect as a doll’s, dominated by huge brown eyes. Eyes that met Jordan’s accusing gaze unflinchingly...

‘What the hell are you doing here, Stella?’ he ground out insultingly, every inch of his body taut.

Stazy groaned inwardly; if he ever looked at her in that disgusted way, she would want to shrivel up and die! As it was, desperate as she was to leave, she felt frozen to the spot, caught in a frozen tableau with these two people, one furiously angry, the other seeming completely unconcerned. In fact, the woman looked positively gleeful at Jordan’s fury!

The woman lifted her shoulders carelessly, the perfection of her dainty figure shown to advantage by the black dress she wore. ‘Where else would I be on Jonathan’s wedding day?’ she returned.

So she knew Jonathan too. This was all becoming too complicated for Stazy. And complications were things she was anxious to avoid at this time in her life. ‘I really do have to go, Jordan.’ She touched his arm to attract his attention; she had the distinct impression he had once again forgotten her existence! ‘I’ll catch up with you later,’ she said in parting.

‘Try leaving a shoe on the stairs on your way out,’ the woman told her disparagingly. ‘I’m told that usually works!’ Her gaze was openly challenging as she looked Stazy up and down.

Stazy paused long enough to give her a narrow-eyed glance. Whoever she was, and whatever she meant to Jordan, or the charming Jonathan, Stazy certainly didn’t like this lady’s implication that Stazy was Cinderella to Jordan’s Prince Charming!

She coldly returned the older woman’s gaze. ‘I’m afraid I’m all out of glass slippers,’ she responded smartly. ‘And I haven’t kissed a prince yet that hasn’t turned into a frog! Have fun,’ she told Jordan breezily before turning and walking unhurriedly away, her head held high.

CHAPTER TWO

JORDAN watched Stazy leave, really watched her, seeing her as more than just the beautiful redhead who lived next door to him, and whom he had only really noticed for the first time yesterday.

There was no doubt she was beautiful: those candid blue eyes, the sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her tiny nose, her wide, smiling mouth. Or that she moved with the natural grace of her countrywomen, her legs long and shapely, her figure stunning in a fitted blue dress.

Those were the reasons he had chosen to invite Stazy Walker to accompany him here this evening. But he had just realised there was a lot more to her than surface beauty. A lot more...

‘Don’t tell me you’re smitten, Jordan?’ the woman at his side said disgustedly. ‘The Hunter men are falling like flies!’

Jordan turned to Stella, his eyes as hard as the metal they resembled. ‘And what does that have to do with you?’ he said impatiently, all too aware of Stazy’s comment ‘I’ll catch up with you later’; unfortunately, something much more immediate had his attention now. A pity he hadn’t realised earlier that Stazy’s temperament matched her long, fiery-red hair. Later, he promised himself.

‘My darling boy—’

‘I am not your “darling” anything,’ he snarled, his expression contemptuous, completely unmoved by Stella’s kittenish looks; in her case, they were only skindeep! Literally. As her favourite cosmetic surgeon knew only too well! Hell, she looked little older than he did, forty at the most, and yet of course she was much older than that... ‘I suggest we get out of here.’ He firmly grasped her arm as he closed the door behind him, turning her to leave. ‘Before anyone else becomes aware of your presence.’

Stella stood her ground in the hallway. ‘I’m not going anywhere, Jordan,’ she resisted. ‘I want to see Jonathan on his wedding day. And, of course, Jarrett—’

‘Aren’t you rather presuming that any of us want to see you?’ Jarrett rasped harshly from behind them, having quietly left the reception room to join them. ‘And in the circumstances that’s presuming all too damned much! You’re an uninvited guest, Stella,’ he added coldly, looking down the length of his arrogant nose at her. ‘I suggest you leave right now—before I have you thrown out!’

Jordan looked admiringly at his oldest brother. As usual, Jarrett wasn’t pulling his punches. Stella now had an unattractive flush to her cheeks, her eyes glittering dangerously at Jarrett’s insulting tone, meeting his gaze challengingly. But, nonetheless, Jordan was in no doubt who would win this particular battle of wills!

‘You wouldn’t do that, Jarrett.’ Stella was finally the one to speak—and not as confidently as her words implied, either.

Jarrett’s mouth thinned. ‘Try me,’ he returned softly, meeting her defiance unflinchingly.

‘But I haven’t even seen Jonathan yet,’ Stella protested. ‘Or met his bride—’

‘And you aren’t about to, either,’ Jarrett bit back. ‘In another couple of hours Jonathan and Gaye will leave the reception. So far they have had a perfect day; I don’t intend letting you ruin it for them!’

‘That’s a very cruel thing to say to me, Jarrett. But then you always were unfeeling,’ Stella told him emotionally.

As displays went, it was certainly a good one, Jordan acknowledged cynically; tears swam in those huge brown eyes, and her chin quivered ever so slightly in an effort to control herself. But Jordan knew as well as Jarrett did that it was all an act; Stella had never cared for anyone else in the whole of her life, and she was too damned old to change now—despite her cosmetic surgeon!

Jordan’s mouth pursed contemptuously. ‘Jarrett is right, Stella,’ he said coldly. ‘You aren’t staying.’

He inwardly acknowledged he hadn’t exactly been the life and soul of the party today himself—for which he probably owed Stazy an apology. No wonder she had decided to leave so abruptly; she had been as sick of his company as he was!

But he also knew that Stella’s presence at the wedding reception was tantamount to introducing a cat amongst the pigeons. ‘I’ll take you wherever you want to go,’ he offered. ‘But you aren’t staying here.’

‘Oh, but I am,’ Stella informed him confidently. ‘Quite literally. I have a suite booked on the fourth floor!’ she announced triumphantly.

Where she had no doubt waited out the first part of the evening before coming down here to make her entrance! For Jordan didn’t doubt this whole thing had been premeditated, and he could see by Jarrett’s narrowed eyes that he knew it too.

‘What do you want, Stella?’ Jarrett snapped impatiently.

Her head went back defensively. ‘Why should you assume I want anything?’

Jarrett sighed. ‘Because your sort always want something—’

‘My sort!’ she repeated in a voice rising with hysteria. ‘How dare you? How dare you—?’

‘Believe me, he dares,’ Jordan told her dryly, still retaining that firm grasp of her arm; there was no way she was going to slip past both of them and make her entrance as planned. ‘And so dare I. Let’s go. Quietly,’ he instructed firmly, aware that he and Jarrett couldn’t remain out here for much longer before attracting attention to the fact they were both missing from the reception.

He didn’t give Stella any more opportunity to argue with him, pulling her along beside him down the hallway and back into the main reception of the hotel.

She waited only that long before pulling her arm out of his grip, glaring up at him, her face set in an angry mask. ‘You have no right, Jordan—’

‘I have every right!’ he returned icily. ‘And so does Jarrett. Jonathan too, if he knew you were here.’ He shook his head. ‘I can’t believe the nerve of you, just turning up here and expecting a welcome!’

‘I am your mother!’ she cried furiously.

He looked at her dispassionately. Yes, this woman had given birth to him. To Jarrett and Jonathan too. But his mother...?

He didn’t think so! He had been fourteen when she’d walked out on him, his two older brothers, and her newly bankrupt husband. The previous years of his life had been filled with a long line of his mother’s lovers, and her verbally violent rows with their cuckolded father. As for the loving and caring part of motherhood—! Jarrett and Jonathan had more or less brought him up, looked out for him, even before their mother left; in fact, he couldn’t remember a single occasion when she had been there for him...

‘Mother is only a word, Stella,’ he said frigidly. ‘And in your case it isn’t even correct.’

He looked at her critically, her beauty, the slender figure, the fashionable clothes. None of it impressed him. He had seen this woman only once in the last twenty years, very briefly, after her second marriage had fallen apart and before she’d found husband number three. She had come to London to seek out her ‘little boys’, though at twenty-five, twenty-seven and twenty-nine they had hardly been that any more. If, indeed, they ever had been...

‘What’s happened, Stella?’ he asked dryly. ‘Has husband number three grown tired of you too?’

The angry flush that coloured her cheeks told him he had guessed correctly. It hadn’t been too difficult; they might have no contact with her, but Jarrett, in his wisdom, kept a weather eye on her life—in the hopes of ensuring it never interfered with theirs!

Stella looked at him accusingly. ‘You’re becoming as hard and unfeeling as Jarrett!’

‘We both had a good teacher,’ he returned hardly.

Stazy should be back at her apartment by now. If he could get away from Stella, return to the reception and make his excuses to Jonathan and Gaye, he might just be in time to call on Stazy before she went to bed...