To Be a Husband

by Carole Mortimer

  'Next time I see her I'll apologise for my bad temper, okay?' he bit out dismissively.

  Abbie looked at him steadily. 'And when will that be?'

  'Abbie—'

  'Careful, Jonathan,' Jarrett cut in warningly, his gaze glacial.

  Jonathan sighed heavily. 'I really don't know when I'm going to see Gaye again, Abbie,' he answered her evenly, heeding his brother's warning. Besides, what purpose would it serve for him to fall out with his family over this?

  'What else don't you know, Jonathan?' Jarrett encouraged softly.

  He stood up. 'Well, for one thing, I don't know what the hell I'm doing here! I came originally to apologise for not being able to make dinner this evening, but I just seem to have made things worse, not better.' He sighed. 'You were also right earlier, Jarrett; I had no right to comment on your choice of godparents for Conor.'

  It had just thrown him when they had asked Gaye to be godmother. He could see years ahead of him where he wouldn't be able to escape seeing Gaye because she was his nephew's godmother. If he didn't see her, maybe he would be able to get his life back in order. Maybe. . .

  'We want you and Jordan to be the godfathers,' Abbie put in gently.

  He knew that. It was another reason he had reacted so strongly earlier. Gaye knew it too. . .

  Maybe if he left now he would be able to catch up with her—

  And do what? Exactly what was he going to say to her if he did catch up with her? He could apologise for being rude. Then what? Drive her home. And then. . .?

  Hell, he didn't know! But he did know he felt a heel for the way he had deliberately ignored her the last two days, and even more so for his behaviour this evening.

  'And I graciously accept,' he answered Abbie ruefully. 'As, I'm sure, will Jordan. Now I have to go. I— We'll all go out to dinner one evening. The three of us,' he clarified quickly, even as he headed towards the door.

  'I'm sure Abbie and I will look forward to that,' Jarrett told him dryly. 'Gaye took the route through the park,' he added. 'In case you're interested,' he went on as Jonathan gave him a look.

  'The park?' he echoed harshly. 'She shouldn't be walking through there on her own at this time of night!'

  'She's a big girl now—'

  'Jarrett,' he interrupted coldly. 'Much as I love you, one of these days I'm going to take that particular phrase—and take great pleasure in ramming it down your throat!' As Jarrett was, metaphorically, doing to him at the moment!

  His brother shrugged unconcernedly. 'It's your phrase; you can do what you like with it.'

  Jonathan drew in a deeply controlling breath, nodding briefly to Abbie before leaving.

  He was still furious when he reached his car, reversing out of the driveway without his usual caution—straight into the side of a passing vehicle!

  For several moments after impact he couldn't believe what had just happened, couldn't believe he had been so lacking in his usual attention that he had actually crashed into another car.

  But as the driver of the other vehicle, and a worried-looking Jarrett, having heard the sound of the crash inside the house, both converged on his car at the same time he knew he had to believe it. It wasn't just his life that was a mess; he was too!

  And, as he stepped out onto the pavement, he could see that the back of his car was, too!

  For the next ten minutes, as apologies were made, addresses exchanged, all he could think of was Gaye walking through the park on her own in the darkness. The fact that she would have done it even if he hadn't turned up this evening, and that he wouldn't then have known anything about it, was totally irrelevant to him; she should have known better!

  His anger hadn't abated in the least as he sat outside the station near her home and watched her emerge from the brightly lit area—if anything, it had deepened! If he hadn't been thinking about her earlier then he probably wouldn't have crashed into the other car in the first place!

  He pushed open the passenger door as she drew level. 'Get in,' he snapped.

  She looked startled, bending down to peer into the interior of the car, not looking any happier when she realised it was him. 'What are you doing here?' She frowned at him, obviously ecstatic at seeing him again!

  'Sitting on a double yellow line waiting to get booked for illegal parking,' he rejoined impatiently. 'One disaster in an evening is quite enough, thank you. So just get in, will you?'

  After the briefest hesitation she did so, but it was obviously reluctantly. 'What happened to the back of your car?' she asked quietly.

  'It had an argument with a Range Rover as I left Abbie and Jarrett's house,' he bit out dismissively, driving in the direction of her home. 'The Range Rover won!'

  Her eyes widened, but she said nothing, merely sat silently beside him, her hands folded neatly in her lap.

  Jonathan glanced over at her, irritated beyond belief at her lack of comment. Why didn't she say something more about his accident?

  Jarrett hadn't said anything, either, but the amused look on his face as he stood watching the exchange between Jonathan and the other driver had spoken volumes!

  Gaye didn't look amused, but it was hard to tell what she was thinking when she sat beside him so—so placidly.

  'I begin my driving lessons next week.'

  When she did speak, it was so far removed from what he had expected that, for a moment, he couldn't believe he had heard her correctly. But then he was absolutely certain that he had.

  'I telephoned a driving school earlier today and booked a course of lessons,' she added at his continued silence.

  He was silent because she had rendered him speechless! Okay, so he had decided that he wasn't going to teach her to drive, after all, but he hadn't expected her to take the decision out of his hands and arrange lessons with someone else!

  'I realise you're a very busy man, with a very busy schedule,' she went on reasonably.

  He didn't want to be reasoned with! Even if what she said made perfect sense. Even if he had already made that decision himself!

  "Jonathan. . .?' she prompted at his ongoing silence.

  'I am listening, Gaye,' he finally ground out, his attention still fixed on the road ahead. 'If that's what you want to do,' he concurred abruptly. 'Considering my accident earlier, it may be as well if someone else taught you!'

  'No matter how good we are, Jonathan, we all make mistakes,' she replied.

  Exactly what did she mean by that remark? Exactly what it sounded like—or something else?

  Luckily—or unluckily; Jonathan wasn't sure which— they had reached her home by this time, making any answer he might have made seem like a waste of time.

  He stopped the car, looking up at the unlit house. 'It doesn't look as if Marilyn and Ben are back yet.'

  'No,' she agreed lightly. "Thank you for the lift—'

  'I'll come in and sit with you until they get back, if you like.' The words were out before he could process them through his brain. He listened to himself with a sinking feeling in his stomach. He had avoided even, seeing her the last couple of days, and now he was deliberately putting himself in a position of being alone with her. And once he was alone with Gaye he knew he would want to kiss her. Hell, if he were honest, he had been wanting to kiss her since the moment he had walked into Abbie and Jarrett's sitting room and seen her again.

  Gaye smiled at his suggestion, shaking her head. 'I have no intention of sitting up for my mother. And she wouldn't expect me to.'

  She had no intention of asking him in, either! The way he had behaved these last few days, and again this evening, maybe he deserved this coolness from Gaye, but that didn't stop it from rankling.

  God, he was behaving, and thinking—when he took the time to think at all!—like an idiot; one moment he couldn't wait to get away from her, and the next he was annoyed because she should feel the same way about him!

  'How about inviting me in for a cup of coffee?' he heard himself say.

  He was doing it again; his mouth
was working without consulting his brain!

  Gaye turned from the action of getting out of the car, looking with puzzlement at him. 'Are you sure that's what you want to do?'

  What he wanted was to feel normal again, to act normally too. But he was beginning to think this might be what 'normal' was for him from now on. 'Yes,' he replied tensely.

  She raised her brows at his obvious aggression, and then she gave a rueful nod of acquiescence before getting out of the car.

  Jonathan followed at a slower pace, mentally berating himself. Get a grip, he warned himself. Or Gaye was going to think he was an idiot too. If she didn't already!

  She seemed perfectly relaxed with him as she moved about the comfortable kitchen preparing the coffee. Unlike that first day at the clinic, when she had been so unnerved by his presence she had dropped a spoon! She had been very aware of him that day; now she seemed indifferent to him. And, after forcing himself not to come anywhere near her the last two days, he found that indifference extremely annoying.

  Gaye put their coffees on the breakfast-bar, making no effort to move to the formality of the sitting room. Jonathan wasn't sure whether that was a positive or a negative thing, whether she felt relaxed enough with him to stay in the kitchen, or whether she was keeping him in here because he had asked to come inside, and hadn't been invited to do so.

  In all of his thirty-seven years Jonathan could never remember trying to fathom the motivation of a woman's actions as he did where Gaye was concerned. He had never been interested enough in the past to bother! What—?

  'Would you like to tell me what it is I've done to upset you?'

  The directness of her softly spoken question totally threw him. Ben was right; she was Abbie all over again, but a less volatile Abbie, Gaye's very quietness more compelling than any show of temper might have been.

  He gave her a considering look. 'What makes you think you've done anything?'

  She gave a sad smile, sitting up on the bar stool next to his. 'Possibly the way you've been scowling at me since you arrived at Abbie and Jarrett's this evening?'

  No mention of the complete silence from him the last two days. Although he couldn't believe she hadn't been aware of it. . .

  He gave a dismissive shrug. 'I wasn't aware of it,' he said evasively.

  Gaye sighed, meeting his gaze steadily. 'I don't believe you.'

  His eyes widened. She didn't—! 'That's a pretty blunt accusation,' he burst out finally.

  'I thought you would have realised by now, Jonathan, I'm a pretty blunt person.'

  No one had ever called him a liar before. . .

  Not because he didn't lie; if the occasion merited it, then he was perfectly capable of telling a lie to protect either his family's or his own privacy. Gaye didn't even seem willing to allow him that. Maybe she felt justified; after all, he had moved in on her life like a tornado— and as quickly left again when the going got too tough!

  'You haven't done anything to upset me,' he answered. Except for being gorgeous, caring, funny, intelligent—in fact, everything a man could possibly want in one woman. 'I'm aware I haven't seen you for a couple of days, but, as you pointed out earlier, I'm a busy man.' Even as he said those words, as he watched her flinch at his deliberate coldness, he regretted being so cruelly hurtful.

  Gaye stood up abruptly, pain warring with anger in the deep green depths of her eyes. 'Then I had better not keep you any longer,' she returned evenly, her whole body rigid as she faced him.

  He winced at her chilly tone. This was what he had wanted, but now that he had got it. . .! 'Gaye—'

  'Jonathan, would you please just leave?' She turned away from him, that tension still in her rigidly held shoulders.

  He could go, could leave now, and knew that Gaye would never want to set eyes on him again after the way he had just spoken to her. But to never see her again, never hear that tinkling sound of her laughter, never feel the warmth of her passion—! He couldn't do it!

  'But I don't want to just leave,' he groaned as he too stood up. 'Gaye, I don't know what's going on in my head any more. One minute I'm determined not to see you, the next I can't seem to stay away from you—'

  'Like earlier,' she guessed huskily. 'When you didn't want to see me at Abbie and Jarrett's,' she explained, 'but then half an hour later you were waiting for me to come out of the station.'

  'Yes!' he agreed harshly. 'Exactly like that.'

  'But you have no idea why you feel that way?' She looked at him hard.

  Of course he had an idea! But it was an unacceptable answer. 'None,' he snapped dismissively. 'And until I do I feel it's unfair to inflict my company on you.'

  Gaye still looked at him searchingly, seeming to see straight past his words to the confusion beneath. She sighed, giving him a rueful look. 'For one thing you didn't inflict yourself on me. For another, again I don't believe you when you claim not to know why you feel the way you do—'

  'Gaye, don't presume to tell me what I do or do not know!' he cut in angrily. God, this woman infuriated him, so much so that he wanted to shake her and kiss her all at the same time! And the latter was guaranteed to stop those disturbing words tumbling from her lips!

  She resisted when he drew her into his arms, which only made him all the more angry. At Gaye for pulling away from him. At himself for wanting the curvaceous warmth of her moulded against him. . .!

  She tasted delicious, as sweet as honey, as heady as wine, and Jonathan felt himself once again losing control. He had known desire and passion many times in the past, but always on his own terms, always with a lazy indifference about the relationship. But with Gaye—! He ached for her, to possess her, to feel her naked and trembling in his arms, with the same passion that swept through him every time he touched her.

  Her skin felt like velvet to his touch, her hands trailing a path of heat down the length of his spine. Gaye wanted him too! He was sure of it. And just kissing her was no longer enough. . .

  He moved slightly, so that his lips now caressed one creamy cheek. 'I want you, Gaye. I want you very much,' he growled, knowing his body had already told her that.

  'And?' she prompted breathlessly.

  'Come home with me!' His arms tightened about her. 'Spend the night with me,' he encouraged huskily.

  She looked up at him with wide green eyes, her cheeks flushed, those eyes feverishly bright. 'Why, Jonathan?' she breathed raggedly.

  He shook his head impatiently. 'I've just told you. I want you—'

  'It isn't enough.' She moved away from him.

  He felt feverish, his mind in turmoil. He couldn't think straight, only knew the sudden loss of her. She had wanted him too; he knew she had!

  'What more do you want from me, Gaye?' he pleaded with frustration.

  But as he looked at the haunted disappointment in her eyes he suddenly knew the answer to that. . .! He drew in a deeply controlling breath, moving abruptly away from her as the heat of passion died, and his head cleared.

  'Hearts and flowers aren't for me, Gaye,' he rasped harshly. 'You've known that from the beginning,' he accused hardly. 'I've never made any secret of it.'

  'No, you haven't,' she acknowledged sadly, hands tightly clasped together in front of her. 'I think you had better go now, don't you?' she added, her voice trembling.

  For a moment, a brief, mind-numbing moment, he wavered. If he left now he knew he would never hold Gaye again, never know the delicious taste of her lips, the warm, scented perfection of her body. But then sanity returned. He valued his freedom above everything. Didn't he. . .?

  'Yes,' he agreed sharply. 'I had better go. I— Goodbye, Gaye.' His expression was dark as he knew that was the last thing he wanted to say to her. Ever.

  He had to say goodbye to her!

  Didn't he. . .?

  'Goodbye, Jonathan.' She no longer even looked at him, her gaze focused somewhere on the wall over his shoulder. He had to go.

  But he could still feel the warm pull of her, her beauty holding him
immovable. He didn't want to leave her! But he was going to. Oh, yes, he was going to.

  With one last aching glance at the pale beauty of her face, he turned and left.

  And as the door to the house closed behind him he felt a door inside his heart close too. . .

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  'Darling, I have no wish to interfere—'

  'Then please don't, Mummy,' Gaye advised, attempting a smile to take any harshness away from her words, the two of them busy in the kitchen, clearing away after their evening meal.

  'But you've been working so hard these last two weeks,' her mother commented reprovingly.

  'We're short-staffed at the clinic,' Gaye excused. 'Annual holiday, sickness, things like that.' Actually she volunteered to do any shifts that were available. If she was working then she didn't have the time to think about Jonathan! 'And with Ben such a regular visitor,' she added teasingly, 'I haven't exactly been leaving you on your own.'

  Her mother's cheeks flushed becomingly. 'Ben has been very kind,' she said. 'But we weren't talking about me, darling—'

  'Well, we certainly aren't going to talk about me, Mummy,' Gaye returned lightly.

  'Gaye—'

  'Mummy!' she said sharply. The only way she had survived the desolation of the last two weeks, since Jonathan left her life so abruptly, had been not to think about him. She had thought her life empty before she met him, but she had never known loneliness like this, of a sort that reached right to the very heart of her.

  'Whatever you want to say, Mummy,' she added wearily, 'please don't.'

  'But I can't simply stand by and see you so unhappy—'

  'Mummy—I—really—can't—talk—about—this!' Her voice broke emotionally from the strain. She had been at such pains to keep this at bay for the last two long, lonely weeks. 'I can't, Mummy,' she declared brokenly, her hands tightly gripping the kitchen work-top, knowing she was very close to breaking down in tears.

  Jonathan had left her because he couldn't love her, wouldn't allow himself to love any woman. And she loved him so much. So very much. . .

  She looked up at her mother's continued silence, gasping at the pain she could see etched into that agelessly beautiful face. Pain. . .? It was an emotion her mother had refused to accept in her life these last two years. . .