To Be a Husband Read online

  'To what do I owe this pleasure?' Richard drawled in carefully measured tones. 'It must be something important for you to have taken the trouble to find me in this way,' he added with satisfaction, the blue eyes not full of humour today but filled with a hardness Jonathan knew he could more than match.

  But could Gaye. . .?

  Jonathan's mouth tightened as he thought of what Gaye had suffered at this man's ruthless hands. 'I can assure you,' he replied hardly, 'the pleasure is all yours!

  And it was no trouble at all to find you; my cousin is Gabriel Hunter.' His expression was deliberately bland as he calmly looked at the younger man and watched the information he had just imparted slowly sink in.

  And sink in it did, and not so slowly either. They were seated slightly away from the set of the film Richard Craven was currently starring in, and the other man had been lounging back in his chair seconds earlier, his feet up on a table, but at the mention of Gabe's name his feet suddenly hit the floor as he sat forward on the edge of his seat.

  'Who the hell are you?' he demanded to know viciously.

  Jonathan shrugged. 'I just told you, Gabe Hunter's cousin.' As a film and theatre critic, Gabe had been known to make or break an actor's or actress's career. One phone call to his cousin and Jonathan had learnt exactly where Richard Craven could be found. Within an hour of making that call, he had been confronting the man himself.

  'And exactly what are you to Gaye?' Most of the sneering arrogance had gone now, but a certain defiance still remained.

  Jonathan met the other man's gaze unblinkingly. 'I'm a family friend,' he told him pointedly. 'Do I make myself clear?' There was a steely edge to his voice now.

  Richard made a casual gesture. 'I was only—'

  'Let me make myself clearer,' Jonathan continued icily. 'I have already advised you to stay away from Gaye and Marilyn, but let me add something to that. The next time it won't be advice. And it won't be via the telephone.'

  'Yes,' the other man drawled, with only a little of his earlier bravado, 'you are Gabe's cousin!'

  Jonathan smiled as he stood up to leave, but it was a smile that didn't reach his eyes. 'I'm glad we understand each other.' He made to leave.

  'Is Gaye in love with you?'

  He stiffened, mining slowly back to face the other man, brows arched. 'Is that any of your business?'

  'I suppose not,' Richard conceded. 'I just wondered if she was happy. . .'

  Jonathan's eyes narrowed. There was an element of something in the other man's voice that he didn't like, a—a caring, possibly. And he felt his chest constrict at the thought of him having once loved Gaye. And of her having returned that love. . .

  'She's happy,' he told Richard flatly.

  The actor nodded, that fleeting something—whatever it had been!—now gone, as he gave a taunting smile. 'I don't envy you,' he scorned. 'Gaye is a cold little fish. And as Marilyn Palmer, world-renowned actress, her mother would have made a wonderful mother-in-law, but what she is now. . .'

  Jonathan moved so fast Richard didn't even see him coming! But as Jonathan grabbed Richard by the shirt-front and pulled him to his feet, his face barely inches away from the other man's, he knew he had Richard's complete attention.

  'She's still Marilyn Palmer, Craven. She will always be Marilyn Palmer. And as for Gaye. . .' He threw the other man back into his chair before he had a chance to give in to the impulse he had to smack that sneering smile off the other man's too good-looking face. 'You obviously weren't the right man for her. I find her warm, responsive, absolutely beautiful.' In his arms that was exactly what she was!

  Richard seemed unfazed. 'But will that last?' He was deliberately scathing.

  'With me?' Jonathan grated. 'Absolutely.'

  He drew in several deep breaths of fresh air once he reached his car, somehow feeling as if he hadn't breathed properly for some time. He also felt, after being near the other man, that he needed a shower, to wash Richard Craven's slime off him; he had never met a man he disliked that intensely. Never met anyone he disliked as much as he disliked Richard Craven!

  But could the other man's description of Gaye being cold possibly mean what he was beginning to hope that it did? Had Gaye never known the pleasure and joy of physical love? Not with Craven, that was for sure. And the last two years she hadn't had any boyfriends, because she had concentrated solely on her mother. . .

  But in his arms she was warm and responsive, shyly matching his passion, was everything any man could ever want or need. She was, he now felt certain, completely untouched. . .

  He felt his senses stir just at the thought of seeing her again.

  But he didn't feel quite so elated when he arrived at Gaye's home the next evening to pick her up for dinner, and discovered a huge arrangement of flowers in the hallway, the card with them reading 'From your biggest fan, Richard!'

  He should have punched the other man on the nose when he'd had the chance!

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Gaye watched in dismay as Jonathan's smile of greeting faded to be replaced by a dark scowl as he looked at the bouquet of yellow and cream roses.

  'He sent them to my mother earlier today,' she explained awkwardly. 'She thinks they're beautiful. A charming gesture, from a charming man. And I didn't know how to—'

  'Your mother?' Jonathan bit out abruptly, looking at her blankly now. 'Craven sent the flowers to your mother?'

  'Yes.' Gaye picked out the card, turning it over to reveal more of the large scrawl. 'He says he's sorry they won't be working together after all.' She read out the message on the back of the card before putting it back amongst the roses. 'I don't know what changed his mind about that, I'm just grateful that he has!'

  What was wrong with Jonathan? She had been looking forward to seeing him all day, and she had seen the admiration light up his eyes a few minutes ago when she'd opened the door to him and he'd taken in her appearance and her fitted green dress, its short length showing off her legs. But as soon as he had walked into the hallway his attitude had changed!

  In fact, he seemed to be acting very strangely altogether at the moment! He had appeared fine the other evening, when he and Ben were here for dinner, but at lunch yesterday—! She wasn't even sure why he had bothered to join them; he had certainly added little to the conversation, and his glowering behaviour had been decidedly unnerving. She wasn't sure, from what she had already seen of him, that this evening was going to be any better. . .

  'How are Abbie and Conor?' she asked conversationally as they went through to the sitting room to join her mother and Ben, her mother looking lovely in a black dress that showed her voluptuous figure to advantage, Ben once again distinguished in black evening suit and snowy white shirt.

  Gaye's interest in Abbie and Conor wasn't merely polite. She genuinely missed the other woman's warm friendliness, and it seemed quite empty at the clinic now without Abbie's fun personality. Also, Gaye had to inwardly acknowledge, Abbie had taken with her the chance of any of the Hunter brothers putting in an appearance. . .

  Jonathan hadn't just crept into her life, he had invaded it with the force of a tidal wave, seemingly leaving her no choice but to follow along in its wake. Which was one of the reasons she had taken it upon herself to organise her own driving licence. He might—or might not—have decided to teach her to drive, but she was certainly old enough, and capable enough, to organise the rest of it for herself!

  'Jarrett is clucking over both of them like a mother hen with her two chicks.' Jonathan dryly answered her question, smiling. 'With Charlie as his more than willing accomplice! I give Abbie two days at the most before she very politely but firmly tells them both to go away! Evening, Ben, Marilyn,' he greeted the other couple, bending low to kiss Marilyn warmly on the cheek.

  Something he certainly hadn't done to Gaye when he arrived!

  Her mother smiled her pleasure at seeing him again. 'Is it polite to ask who Jarrett, Abbie and Conor are?' she enquired lightly. 'And Charlie too, of course.'<
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  Gaye had told her mother very little about Jonathan, and certainly nothing about his family; it wouldn't do for her mother to jump to any conclusions! But she listened with amusement as Jonathan described his older brother as a slave-driver, Jarrett's beautiful wife Abbie as having the patience of Job, the merits of their newborn son, and the endearingly lovely Charlie. Jordan he described as an irrepressible torment.

  'Don't deprecate such an enchanting-sounding family, Jonathan,' Gaye's mother told him softly. 'I know that Terence and I always wanted—' She broke off, looking confused for a moment. But only for a moment. 'We were always sorry we weren't able to give Gaye a brother or a sister,' she continued lightly. 'It would have been so much nicer for Gaye if we had. Do you have children, Benjamin?'

  Gaye's breath suddenly caught in her throat—and held. Ben had a son. But he had died. She glanced uncertainly at Jonathan, but his gaze was fixed intently on Ben.

  'I had a son, Marilyn,' Ben replied without hesitation, his eyes direct and sure on Marilyn's face. 'Unfortunately, he was born with a heart defect. I won't bore you with all the details,' he said, 'but after several operations he was able to lead a more or less normal life. It was all a bit too much for his mother. She wasn't able to accept that he wasn't perfect, and when Sam was three she left us.'

  'Oh, Benjamin. . .' Gaye's mother groaned. 'How awful for you both! But—but you said your son had— died.' The last word was forced out of her, her eyes wide purple smudges in the paleness of her face.

  Ben nodded. 'Sam lived a quieter life than most children, but, I believe, a happy one—'

  'Very,' Jonathan put in softly. 'Sam was my best friend,' he explained to Marilyn.

  Pain. Both men showed real pain in talking about the young man they had obviously both cared for very much.

  Gaye looked worriedly at her mother. Although she knew exactly what Ben was doing. He had discussed this with her yesterday at lunch. Her mother, over the last two years, living the way that she had, had managed to shut out all emotional pain. Anything unpleasant, or painful, she shied away from. Without actually subjecting Marilyn to her own personal grief, Ben intended gradually introducing her to the emotion she refused to face—pain. But Gaye had had no idea that he intended doing so by exposing his own emotional loss!

  Ben nodded his gratitude at Jonathan's reassurance. 'Like a lot of children with a physical disability, Sam had a wonderful mind. At twenty-two, he had just completed a Masters degree, was about to begin a Ph.D., when he was senselessly knocked over and killed by a speeding car.'

  He revealed the last without bitterness or accusation, merely stated what had happened. But the effect on Gaye's mother was momentarily devastating, her beautiful face crumpling with grief, eyes dark violet shadows.

  But it was only a momentary break in her composure; her expression became sad now, full of sympathy, almost making Gaye imagine that look of devastation seconds ago. Almost. . .

  'I'm so sorry, Benjamin.' Marilyn touched his arm. 'I can't even begin to imagine what it must be like to lose your child.'

  'Let's hope you never have to.' Ben squeezed her hand before turning to Gaye and Jonathan. 'Time we were leaving, I think, don't you?' he prompted, the smile back on his lips, although not quite back in his eyes.

  'He reached her for a moment, didn't he?' Jonathan said evenly as he and Gaye travelled to the restaurant in his car, her mother in the following Mercedes with Ben.

  Gaye glanced at Jonathan, still unsure of his mood. He seemed strange today, somehow distant, and she wasn't sure how to respond to him. Teasing or arrogant she could deal with; distant was something else entirely!

  'Yes, I think he did.' She knew exactly what he was referring to. 'I'm so sorry about your friend, Jonathan. And Ben. . .' She bit her bottom lip. 'Like my mother, I can't imagine what it must have been like for him.' She spoke in an unsteady voice.

  'Sam was his life,' Jonathan said tonelessly. 'After his wife walked out on them Ben became mother as well as father to Sam. I only met Sam when I went to university, but Sam had nothing but admiration for his father, and the bond between the two of them was—well, it was like nothing I've ever seen between father and son. It almost killed Ben too when Sam died so senselessly. His hair turned white overnight, it seemed, and for months no one could reach him. What saved him was other people like your mother, I think, people who had suffered a loss that was just too big for them to take on board. Helping those people come to terms with their own private hell was what saved Ben's own sanity.' He glanced briefly at Gaye. 'I'm not sure, in the same circumstances, that I could have done what he does.'

  'No,' Gaye agreed quietly. Because each time Ben helped someone else with their grief he had to suffer through his own all over again. . .!

  'Have I told you yet this evening how beautiful you're looking?'

  She looked suddenly across at Jonathan, as much for his flirtatious tone as for what he'd actually said. Maybe this evening wasn't going to be a repeat of lunch yesterday, after all. . .

  'No,' she answered vivaciously.

  'You look lovely.' He grinned at her. 'But then, you always do!'

  'Always?' She arched her brows. 'I think hospital theatre gowns leave a lot to be desired!' She teasingly re-minded him of the first time they met.

  'Well, I must admit, I like the green dress you're wearing this evening much better,' he returned dryly.

  Gaye felt her own mood lighten to match his. Thank goodness! She had felt the tension between them the last thirty-six hours, and been uncomfortable with it. Although she wasn't even sure Jonathan was aware of it. . .

  It turned out to be a fun evening, those few brief minutes of emotional awareness at the house, when Ben talked of his son's death, put firmly in the background. By Ben too. Gaye had to admire the way he could do that. It couldn't have been easy for him to talk about his son's life, and death, so candidly, and yet, Gaye realised, it was the way he got through to the people he helped. He knew the trauma his patients had suffered, related to it completely, and by making those patients aware of that he was gradually able to break through their barriers. There could never be any accusations of his not understanding.

  They ate in a quietly exclusive restaurant, where it was obvious that several other diners recognised Gaye's mother, but were too polite to come and interrupt her evening out with friends. The food was excellent, the service discreet, the company faultless; as her mother's first social outing for some time, Gaye didn't think it could have been bettered

  She told Jonathan of her pleasure in the evening as he drove her home some time later. 'My mother sparkled tonight, as she used to,' she said excitedly. 'Daddy always said my mother responded to an audience,' she recalled affectionately.

  He nodded. 'She really should return to acting. Oh, not with Craven,' he added darkly. 'The further you both stay away from him the better.' He scowled. 'But your father was right; your mother needs an audience. It enables her to blossom and glow. I'm sure she enjoyed her evening.'

  There had only been one awkward moment during dinner. And once again it had been Jonathan's rapid change of mood that had caused it. Gaye and her mother had disappeared to the ladies' room before coffee was served, and the two men were sitting at the table talking when they returned, a conversation that ended as soon as the two women came within earshot. But, whatever their discussion had been about, it had far from pleased Jonathan—whereas Ben had looked amused by the whole thing.

  Jonathan's mood hadn't really lifted again after that, although it had in no way hindered her mother's obvious enjoyment of the evening, which was, after all, the purpose of it taking place at all. The other couple were still chatting warmly together when Jonathan had suddenly suggested driving Gaye home. But, all in all, Gaye still thought the evening a success. . .

  Although she had a feeling Jonathan was beginning to wish he had never become involved. . .

  'Thank you for introducing Ben to us,' Gaye told him as he stopped the car in the driveway. 'I
think—I have a feeling he really is going to be able to help.' It was the first sense of optimism she had had for a very long time.

  Jonathan switched off the engine, turning to her in the darkness. 'I'm sure he is. But why do I have the feeling that remark was something of a goodbye. . . ?' He quirked blond brows.

  She felt the warmth in her cheeks. It had probably felt like a goodbye because it was one. He had spent far too much of his time already on helping her with her problems; she certainly wasn't going to keep him to his offer to teach her to drive. His erratic mood of the last two days spoke of an impatience with the whole situation.

  'We've taken up so much of your time already this last week—'

  'Gaye, let me assure you, I never do anything I don't want to do,' he said forcefully.

  Her eyes widened incredulously. 'Never?'

  'No, never. And do you know what I want to do right now?'

  Her eyes had adjusted to the semi-darkness now, and as she looked at his intense expression she knew exactly what he wanted to do! She felt herself tense expectantly.

  'Don't say you don't know,' he husked as he reached out and drew her towards him. 'Although I have to admit I think I'm a little old to be caught kissing a girl in my car—even if it is on the front seat and not the back!'

  Gaye gazed up at him, her breath catching in her throat; Jonathan intended kissing her! And she wanted him to. More than anything! 'If you would rather, we could always go into the house,' she offered.

  He straightened. 'I would rather.'

  Gaye felt self-conscious as she unlocked the door and let them both into the house. What was she doing? Inviting him in was tantamount to asking to be kissed. Not that she didn't want to be kissed—she just wished she hadn't made it so obvious!

  'Stop thinking so much,' Jonathan murmured indul-gentiy as they walked into the sitting room, putting a gentle hand under her chin to tilt her face up to his. 'It gives you frown-lines, right here.' He bent and gently kissed her between the eyes. 'And I can assure you,' he added thickly, 'you have only gone up in my estimation, not down, because you're a woman who prefers being made love to in private.'