Читать книгу The Honeymoon Proposal - Hannah Bernard - Страница 8

WAS it a law that the phone absolutely had to ring a few minutes after Grandma had closed her bedroom door to take a nap? Joanna lunged for the receiver, managing to snatch it up after only two rings had blared through the house. “Hello?”

“Hello, Jo.”

Matt.

Joanna’s hand clenched around the phone and she almost hung up. She’d somehow avoided him for three days—and now he’d managed to reach her at her grandmother’s house.

But Grandma was his godmother after all, it was only natural for him to be calling here.

“Hello. One moment, I’ll get Grandma.”

“Wait! I’m calling to talk to you.”

Dammit. She leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes, concentrating on keeping her voice level and calm. “I see. How did you know I was here?”

“I didn’t, but it was worth a try. You’re not answering your home phone, or your cell phone or your e-mail. I was running out of options.”

Jo gritted her teeth. “If Grandma had caller ID we wouldn’t be talking.”

“Believe me, Jo. I know. I was the one your neighbors threatened to call the cops on yesterday, remember?”

Joanna grinned without pleasure and headed toward the kitchen in order to get even further away from her grandmother’s bedroom. Grandma didn’t need to hear this, even if it would never escalate into a shouting match. Jo was too civilized for shouting matches. Nope, no screaming, just cool and calm conversation, icicles dripping off every word she said. “Your father called security on me at work, why shouldn’t my neighbors call the cops on you?”

A tiny sound shimmered through the line, and her nervous brain translated it into a click. Her gaze flashed in the direction of her grandmother’s bedroom. Could she have picked up the extension?

“Jo, you’re not even giving me a chance,” Matt continued, the same impatient irritation in his voice as before. He didn’t get it, did he? He didn’t have a clue about what this mess had done to her life. “Do you have any idea what I’m dealing with here? I have my hands full with the board, with the investigation, with finding out what really happened and how you got involved. It didn’t help when you stormed out, and now you’re saying we’re over and refusing to talk to me—”

“Ssshhh!” she hissed, suspicion blooming and even diverting her attention from the barb of how you got involved. There had been a click on the line. She was sure of it. “Shut up. Wait.”

“What?”

“Sssssh!”

Covering the speaker with her hand, Jo tiptoed upstairs to her grandmother’s room and listened. There was no sound. She slowly turned the knob and pushed the door open. The drapes were pulled and the room was darkened, but she could make out the shape of Grandma in her bed, turned away from her with a blanket up to her neck. She stood still for a few moments, but the old lady didn’t move. The phone was within her reach, so she might have picked up and put it back down again—was the cord swaying?

No. Or if it was, it had to be a draft from the window. Grandma wasn’t the type to hide her interference, anyway. If she’d heard anything, she’d have come right out and demanded to know what was going on.

Jo pulled the door quietly shut, relieved that Grandma hadn’t been listening in. She wasn’t ready for Grandma to know she’d broken up with Matt. Grandma would ask questions. She’d probe and poke in wounds that hadn’t healed yet, and she would meddle.

Grandma would have to be told, of course, but not right now. In a few days, when she was more composed over the whole thing, Jo would tell her. Now wasn’t the right time.

“Jo?” Matt was saying when she raised the phone back to her ear. “What’s wrong?”

She hurried back downstairs to the kitchen before speaking again. “Nothing.”

“How are you doing, Jo?”

The question almost made her anger spill over, but with the self-restraint of a lifetime of practice she managed to contain it and keep her voice as calm and as chilly as a snowman’s nose. “How am I doing? You mean, apart from the fact that you ruined my life?”

“Don’t be so melodramatic,” he said impatiently. “You’re overreacting.”

“I’m overreacting? I’m being melodramatic? I lost my job, had security invade my office and to top it all off, my…” Her what? What had Matt been to her? “My lover,” she ended up saying with a sardonic twist in her voice, “doesn’t even believe in me. And you’re surprised I want you out of my life?”

“I do believe in you…” Matt broke off and swore. “Why can’t you trust me? Look—I’ll come over tonight and we’ll talk. Will you please let me in this time?”

He was trying to use charm on her. It wouldn’t work. Not now, when she knew the truth about what he felt for her—when she knew he’d rather have her accused of a crime than admit they were a couple. But she wouldn’t bring that up now—bruised pride wasn’t the most comfortable emotion to have trampled on. “We’ve had this conversation before, Matt. There’s nothing to talk about. I’m not interested in having a fight.”

“You never are. Maybe that’s the problem. We need to have a real fight.”

“We don’t need anything. There is no we. If there ever was a we, we’re over. Don’t call me again. Bye.”

Matt cursed and his voice rose. “No way. This is not over, Jo—”

She didn’t hear another word, because the phone was firmly back in its cradle and her back was turned to it.