with feeling.
Although he didn’t look too bothered at the prospect... Gaye had a feeling very little ruffled his smooth charm. Except...
‘Even if it meant you ended up being carried from the operating Theatre unconscious?’ she derided.
He grimaced again. ‘That wasn’t kind, Nurse Royal,’ he chided softly.
He hadn’t needed to look at her name-tag this time, had obviously remembered her name. Which, for some reason, irritated Gaye too. She was going to have some explaining to do once the Hunter baby was born and Mr Gilchrist had a free moment!
‘But true,’ she said pointedly.
‘It was that obvious?’ he muttered self-derisively.
‘Let’s put it this way,’ she teased. ‘I don’t think green is your colour!’
‘But I bet it’s yours!’ he returned, easily meeting and holding her gaze, open admiration in those golden depths as they looked directly into her eyes.
He was flirting with her again! Okay, so she might now know that he wasn’t married to Abbie Hunter, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t married to someone else. In fact, the chances were that he definitely was attached: his age, his good looks, that charm... He might even have children too. Although, from his behaviour earlier, he definitely hadn’t been present at their births!
‘I’ll show you to the waiting room,’ she told him briskly. ‘As soon as there is any news, I’m sure your brother will—’
‘Uncle Jonathan!’ a child’s voice called out delightedly. Gaye turned just in time to see an adorable bundle launching herself into Jonathan Hunter’s arms. Following close behind her was another tall, good-looking man, with unruly dark hair and devilish golden-coloured eyes.
One more Hunter! This time Gaye was sure of exactly who he was, because where Jarrett and Jonathan, apart from those eyes, managed to look nothing alike, this third man somehow seemed to look like both his brothers.
He also had Jonathan Hunter’s way of running an assessing eye over a woman—and the mischievous smile he sent in Gaye’s direction, before turning his attention back to his brother and the little girl, told her he had liked what he saw!
‘She refused to stay at home,’ he explained apologetically to his brother. ‘And when Charlie makes up her mind—’
‘She can be as doggedly determined as her mother,’ Jonathan accepted affectionately. ‘And we’re all like butter in her hands!’
‘Has Mummy had the baby yet?’ the little girl asked excitedly—although Gaye hadn’t needed to hear her call Abbie Hunter ‘Mummy’ to know that this was the other woman’s daughter from her first marriage; Charlie had the same beauty as her mother—the long dark hair, and the same violet-blue eyes. It was easy to see how this little girl could wind the Hunter men around her little finger; she was adorable!
‘Not yet, poppet,’ Jonathan answered reassuringly. ‘But this nice nurse tells me it won’t be long now.’
Charlie looked up at Gaye shyly, a dimple appearing in her cheeks as she smiled. ‘Is Mummy having the baby now?’
Gaye could feel herself melting as she looked at this beautiful child. ‘She certainly is,’ she told her warmly. ‘Do you want a brother or sister?’
‘Daddy says he wants a little girl who looks just like me,’ Charlie told her seriously. ‘But I want a brother.’
‘Another male for her to charm!’ Jonathan groaned, shaking his head.
‘Uncle Jonathan says he’s going to marry me when I grow up,’ Charlie confided guilelessly to Gaye. ‘But Daddy says he’s too old for me.’
‘Far too old,’ the newly arrived Hunter agreed mischievously. ‘I’m much more your age.’
Charlie shook her head. ‘Daddy says you’re too old for me too, Uncle Jordan,’ she told him regretfully.
Jonathan. Jarrett. And Jordan. Gaye’s head was spinning with the three Hunter men. And not just with their names. What a formidable trio they were!
‘The waiting room is just down the corridor to your left.’ She pointed them in the right direction. ‘I’ll go and arrange a pot of coffee for you,’ she offered. ‘What would you like to drink, Charlie?’ Her voice noticeably softened as she spoke to the little girl. She had always loved children, and Charlie Hunter was gorgeous!
‘A glass of milk, please, Nurse,’ the little girl accepted shyly.
‘Nurse Royal,’ Jonathan Hunter prompted gently.
‘You can call me Gaye,’ she told Charlie warmly, pointedly omitting to give the two men present the same privilege before going off to the kitchen to get the coffee and milk.
She needed the respite, felt as if her world had suddenly been invaded by a plethora of Hunters. Hopefully, there weren’t any more of them. Although, of course, another was just being born. If he was a boy, no doubt his name would begin with a J too—just to add to the confusion!
‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ offered that smoothly familiar voice Gaye instantly recognised as Jonathan Hunter’s. ‘Or have I done enough already?’ he asked ruefully as he bent down to retrieve the spoon she had just dropped.
Gaye had turned quickly at the sound of his voice, dropping the spoon in her surprise at being interrupted in this way. Jonathan’s latter remark had been ambiguous to say the least. Had he done enough already by making her drop the spoon, or had he effectively—or very effectively!—let her make a complete idiot of herself in Theatre earlier?
She looked across at him exasperatedly, receiving a charming smile for her trouble—a smile, she was sure, that usually melted the heart of any female it was directed at. Except that her heart was impenetrable, to Jonathan Hunter’s, or indeed any other man’s, charm.
‘I can manage, thank you,’ she returned frostily.
‘I’m sure you can. Manage, I mean,’ he accepted lightly. ‘But I would like to help.’
Gaye looked at his expertly styled hair, his tailor-made suit, the silk shirt, the hand-made shoes—and seriously wondered if he knew one end of a coffee-pot from the other, let alone what you did with it! Somehow, she doubted it. No doubt the Hunter family had servants to do such menial tasks.
‘I really can manage,’ she told him sharply. ‘Would you please go back to the waiting room?’ She turned back to the preparation of the coffee, muttering under her breath as she did so. Thank goodness she could go off duty in half an hour. Although the prospect of going home was never a happy one nowadays...
‘That was a big sigh...?’
She gave another irritable sigh as she turned back to face Jonathan Hunter. ‘I thought you had gone,’ she said.
He was leaning back against the door-frame, arms crossed loosely in front of his chest. ‘As you can see, I haven’t,’ he returned unconcernedly. ‘I thought, as you won’t let me help you, that I could carry the tray through for you when it’s
