Carole Mortimer - To Be A Husband

“But you won’t go out with me?” “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! Title Page To Be a Husband Carole Mortimer www.millsandboon.co.uk 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.