Читать книгу Secret Heirs Collection - Кейт Хьюит, Коллектив авторов - Страница 26

JOANNA’S MOUTH DRIED. Surely, they were not dining alone.

‘Jo,’ Matt said, moving towards her, his low voice so familiar, so disturbing to her ears that she caught her breath. ‘You look refreshed. Did you rest for a while?’

‘Just for a few minutes,’ said Joanna, well aware that she hadn’t relaxed at all. His clean masculine scent drifted to her nostrils but she endeavoured to ignore it. ‘Where is—’ she almost said ‘your mother’, before amending it to ‘—everyone?’

‘They’re coming,’ said Matt smoothly. He surveyed her with dark expressive eyes. ‘You look very beautiful this evening, Jo.’

‘Thank you.’ But Joanna stiffened, touching the low neckline of the tunic with a nervous finger. She was tempted to check the hemline, too, to pull it further down if that was possible, but she restrained herself. ‘Um—how long has Sophie been here?’ she asked, desperate to keep their conversation from becoming personal. ‘Is she staying long?’

‘As long as my mother is prepared to have her,’ he replied drily. ‘Since the divorce, she spends a lot of time here.’

Joanna nodded. Sophie and her ex-husband had divorced before Matt’s father had been taken ill. Joanna had wondered if the break-up of Sophie’s marriage had contributed to Oliver Novak’s stroke.

‘Well—it was nice to see her again,’ Joanna continued, when the silence became unbearable. She paused, and then, refusing to be diverted, ‘Did your mother show you my emails at last?’

Matt’s eyes darkened. ‘I assume that’s your way of asking if I now know why you’re here.’

Joanna shrugged. ‘I would have preferred to speak to you in private. That was why I planned to stay at the hotel.’

‘There’s no hurry.’ Matt lifted his shoulders indifferently. ‘Let me get you a drink. That might help you to relax.’

‘I am relaxed.’ Though of course she wasn’t. Joanna’s lips tightened. ‘Why can’t we get right to the point?’

Matt ignored her outburst, approaching the drinks cabinet and holding up a bottle of Chardonnay for her inspection. With some misgivings, she nodded, and as he poured he added smoothly, ‘You are still my wife, Jo. That gives me some privileges, I think.’

He handed her a glass and she took it with great care, avoiding touching his fingers. Then, after swallowing a mouthful of wine, she tried again. ‘You know I didn’t want to come here.’

Matt sighed. ‘Believe it or not, but I’d gathered that. Don’t you think we should take a little time to talk about this?’

‘What is there to talk about?’ asked Joanna tightly. ‘I want a divorce. It’s as simple as that.’

‘What a pity.’ Matt spoke neutrally. ‘And here was I, hoping you might stay for a couple of days.’

Joanna stared at him. ‘You are joking!’

‘No.’ Matt was annoyingly composed.

Joanna’s lips tightened. ‘You can’t possibly expect me to stay here when—when your mother obviously hates my guts!’

Matt shrugged. ‘And is that the only reason you’re declining my invitation?’

‘Of course not.’ Joanna was frustrated. ‘I just don’t think there’s any point in dragging this out.’

Matt was silent for a moment, and then he added tersely, ‘You know, I could do without your animosity. These past few weeks, recovering from that blasted bug, have been hell on earth, believe me.’

‘I’m sure they have, Matt, but—’

‘But you’re not interested.’ Matt’s tone had roughened with emotion, and, closing the short distance between them, his hands gripped the tops of her bare arms and he drew her towards him. ‘This isn’t over, Jo,’ he said. ‘Not nearly.’ And before she could do more than draw a startled breath, he bent his head and kissed her mouth.

‘Matt!’

The word was muffled and her glass was in serious danger of spilling its contents over the Indian rug. She endeavoured to take a step back, but he was too strong for her. His tongue brushed her lips, and when she resisted his efforts to enter her mouth, he growled his frustration.

‘I still want you,’ he said, staring down at her, and, God help her, Joanna felt her knees go weak.

‘Don’t,’ she said, hearing the huskiness in her voice, but unable to do anything about it. ‘This is not why I made this trip.’

‘I know.’ Matt released her abruptly and turned away, and she staggered a little as she tried to save her wine. ‘I just don’t believe our marriage is over.’

Joanna caught her breath. She was annoyingly aware that she’d bitten her tongue in her efforts to calm herself. ‘We’ve lived apart for almost a year, Matt.’

‘What does that prove?’ Matt snorted. ‘We’ve been living on different continents, sure, but the connection between us never relied on distance, did it?’

‘Matt, please. This is getting us nowhere.’

Forced to look away, she touched the tip of her tongue with an exploring finger, feeling for the blood she was sure she could taste. She was totally unaware of how provocative her action was until she saw Matt watching her, following her probing finger with his eyes.

Oh, Lord!

Pulling her hand away from her mouth, she noticed, belatedly, that he didn’t have a glass. And, in an effort to change the subject, she said shortly, ‘Aren’t you joining me?’

‘Alcohol and drugs don’t mix,’ he replied flatly. ‘Now, do you want to tell me why you want a divorce?’

Taking another swallow of wine, she added tensely, ‘Let’s not do this, Matt.’

Matt’s lips twisted. ‘I’m sure you’re aware that divorces in this country are ten a penny.’ He paused. ‘Provided they are uncontested.’

‘I do know that, yes.’

‘So, you expect me to roll over, right? Isn’t that what you said in your emails?’ His eyes swept insolently over her, and she was supremely conscious of the flimsy fabric of the tunic and her bare legs beneath. ‘I have to say, you don’t waste words.’

Joanna sighed, guessing Adrienne had shown him one of the later messages she’d sent when impatience had made her less tactful than before. ‘I don’t believe I said I expected you to roll over,’ she responded defensively. ‘I thought you were deliberately ignoring me.’

‘As you would.’ Matt was sardonic. ‘But you’re my wife, Joanna, and if I have my way, you will remain so.’

‘You can’t make me,’ she said, and then could have bitten her tongue—metaphorically this time—at the childishness of her words.

She attempted to take another gulp of her wine and was dismayed to find the glass was empty. She took a steadying breath. She was allowing him to get the upper hand, and she’d only had one glass.

Matt hesitated, and just when she was afraid he was going to touch her again, he lifted his hands in a defeated gesture and crossed the room to seat himself at the piano.

With his fingers running idly over the keys, he said, ‘Tell me, why didn’t you touch any of the funds I deposited to your bank account in London?’ He paused. ‘You didn’t have to go back to work at Bellamy’s gallery.’

‘I wanted to.’ Joanna found herself approaching the drinks cabinet and lifting the bottle of Chardonnay. ‘I don’t need your money, Matt,’ she assured him, filling her glass. ‘I told you that when—when—’

‘When you stormed out of our apartment in London?’ Matt suggested mildly, the strains of an old George Michael song emerging from the keys. ‘I know what you said, Jo. Your words are imprinted on my soul.’

Joanna shivered in spite of the warmth of the evening. ‘Do you have a soul, Matt?’ she queried, trying to be flippant, and then gasped in dismay when he slammed the lid of the piano and got to his feet.

‘You’d better believe it,’ he snapped, covering the space between them so quickly that Joanna, who had been drifting unknowingly towards the music, suddenly found him only inches away. ‘I am not the devil incarnate, Jo, no matter what lies your father told you.’

‘Don’t bring Daddy into this.’

‘Why not? He’s the real villain here, as far as I’m concerned.’

‘He’s dead,’ said Joanna defensively. ‘You can’t blame a dead man for your mistakes.’

‘My mistakes?’ Matt was angry. ‘You are such a cliché, do you know that? You keep bringing up trivial things that have no bearing on this conversation. In an effort to try and justify what Angus did.’

‘He didn’t do anything wrong!’

‘Oh, I know that’s what you think. I heard the eulogies at his funeral.’ Matt was bitter. ‘I was there at the funeral, Jo. You didn’t know that, did you? I was tactful enough to guess you wouldn’t want to see me. But I saw you, Joanna, with Bellamy.’

‘David’s a good friend,’ Joanna protested, but Matt ignored her words.

Joanna had always denied that the gallery owner had any feelings for her, but it was Bellamy she’d turned to when Angus Carlyle had died; Bellamy who’d re-employed her and probably found her somewhere else to live.

She’d moved out of their London apartment, probably afraid he might turn up and demand his rights as her husband. As if he’d ever done anything but protect her interests.

Anger gave way to frustration, and, to Joanna’s alarm, his hand came to cup her face. His thumb brushed the high colour nesting on her cheekbones and then found the startled contours of her mouth.

He’d barely touched her, but Joanna felt as if he were branding her. Almost without her volition, her lips parted, and she tasted him on her tongue. The heat spreading from his fingers seared her throat and breasts, breasts that were suddenly swollen and taut with need.

There was a tingling sensation in the pit of her stomach, too, as nervous tension gripped her abdomen. She felt her muscles tighten, her breath grow shallow, as an unwilling awareness of her vulnerability where this man was concerned weakened her knees.

She was gripping her glass with slippery fingers, and realised she was losing control.

Matt was staring at her, and awareness flared like a flame between them, burning them with its fire. She didn’t honestly know what might have happened next if someone hadn’t interrupted them; if another voice hadn’t chosen that moment to coldly break the spell.

‘For God’s sake, Matt! What is going on?’

Adrienne’s voice was shrill and accusatory, and Joanna despised herself for allowing such a situation to develop. Whatever defence she’d had before would be as nothing now. His mother was bound to think she’d had an ulterior motive for coming here.

Matt, however, seemed indifferent to his mother’s arrival. Although he drew back from Joanna, his response revealed his impatience at her words. ‘Keep out of it, Ma,’ he said, his hand lingering in the small of Joanna’s back. ‘This has nothing to do with you.’

Adrienne looked wounded. ‘Matt!’ she protested, and, although her son still looked grim, he got control of himself.

Apparently intending to placate her, he released Joanna and said curtly, ‘Do you want a drink?’

His mother was evidently in two minds, but she chose the least provoking option. ‘Wine, please,’ she said, her gaze flickering over Joanna’s glass. ‘I’ll have red, if you don’t mind.’

Joanna was drinking white, but she was so relieved that Matt had moved away from her that she didn’t make any comment. In any case, it was just another attempt to annoy her, and she wouldn’t give Adrienne the satisfaction of retaliation.

Taking the time to study her adversary, she had to admit the woman had changed little in the year since they’d last met. Adrienne’s dark hair might owe more to her hairdresser these days than it did to nature. But her slender build gave her a youthful appearance. If only her hostility towards her daughter-in-law didn’t draw her mouth into that thin hostile line.

Matt handed his mother her glass and refilled Joanna’s without her permission. But, what the hell? she thought recklessly, taking another gulp of the deliciously cool liquid. She needed all the courage, real or artificial, that she could get.

After drinking a little of her wine, Adrienne turned to Joanna again. ‘Sophie tells me you’re staying at the Corcovado. How long are you planning to stay in Miami?’

Joanna shrugged. ‘Until tomorrow.’ She refused to prevaricate, even if she sensed Matt’s anger at her words.

Adrienne forced a tight smile. ‘Perhaps you should have let us know you were coming.’

‘Why?’ Joanna was tired of defending herself. ‘So you could have kept that news from Matt, as well?’

Adrienne gasped. ‘How dare you?’ she began, but Matt broke in before she could continue.

‘It’s the truth, Ma, and you know it. I’ll let you know how long Jo is staying after we’ve talked.’

He returned the bottle of white wine to its tray, his eyes boring into Joanna’s, cautioning her not to argue with him. And, although she would have liked to refute his words, there was still a certain pleasure to be had in thwarting his mother.

Adrienne’s lips thinned. ‘I understood from your correspondence that you intended to ask Matt for a divorce. I don’t see what there is to talk about.’

Joanna would have answered her, but Matt chose to intervene. ‘If you hadn’t chosen to keep Joanna’s correspondence to yourself, I might have phoned her,’ he said mildly. His hand returned to the sensitive hollow of Joanna’s spine. ‘As it is, we have the opportunity to speak to one another face to face.’

Once again, Joanna attempted to move away from him to dislodge those cool fingers that were threatening to unnerve her. But her breathless silence was an admission of his dominance, nevertheless. And although it galled her to admit it, she knew that right now he had the upper hand.

‘I’m sure Dad would be most disappointed if we didn’t make her welcome,’ Matt continued, his tone mellowing. Probably because he thought he was getting his own way, thought Joanna, in frustration. ‘He was delighted to hear that she was here.’

‘You’ve spoken with your father?’ Adrienne was obviously disconcerted and Joanna guessed Matt’s mother had hoped to keep her husband in ignorance of what she’d done.

‘Of course, I’ve spoken with him,’ responded Matt, as his sister came into the room to join them. He looked again at Joanna. ‘Let me refresh your glass.’

Once again, to her dismay, Joanna saw her glass was almost empty. She hadn’t been aware of swallowing the wine, but her nerves were all over the place so she obviously had.

‘Um—thanks,’ she said, ignoring Adrienne’s disapproval, and found a smile for her sister-in-law when Sophie complimented her on her dress.

Thankfully, Sophie’s arrival did take a little of the pressure off. The young woman might be Matt’s sister, but she’d never been able to twist her mother round her little finger as her brother could do. In consequence, Adrienne turned her wrath on her daughter, berating her for not being here sooner and criticising her outfit.

Sophie was wearing a wraparound sheath dress in a rather striking orange linen. Not the shade Joanna would have chosen, but it suited Sophie’s dark colouring.

Joanna accepted more wine, but, despite Sophie’s friendly chatter, she was overwhelmingly aware of Matt’s brooding expression, his dour countenance colouring her mood.

She should have refused his invitation, she thought. Being civil was getting them nowhere. And whatever she did, Adrienne would never compromise.

They ate in a small dining room overlooking the floodlit patio. It was near the kitchen and was much less intimidating than the formal one Joanna remembered when she and Matt were last here. Conversation wasn’t easy. The only consolation was that Adrienne disliked the situation as much as she did.

However, when Sophie’s attempt to ask her about her work at the art gallery brought a scowl of disapproval from both her mother and her brother, Joanna chose to speak her mind.

Ignoring Matt’s warning gaze, she said, ‘I enjoy my work, Sophie. I may not be a painter myself, but I have learned to recognise talent when I see it. We—that is the gallery owner and myself—occasionally give unknown painters a showcase for their work. Sort of an amateur exhibition. But you’d be amazed how many of them go on to become professional artists.’

Sophie nodded. ‘I envy you, you know. Before I married Jon, I had a job working in the oil business. Not for Dad or Matt, of course. An independent company. And I really enjoyed it. I think I might look for something similar again.’

‘Good for you.’ Joanna smiled at her. ‘I know I’d miss working at the gallery.’

‘Well, there are lots of art galleries in New York,’ exclaimed Sophie at once. ‘Now that you have no ties holding you to London, you could work for one of the galleries there. Don’t you agree, Matt?’

Matt didn’t answer. Nevertheless, his silence was annoyingly compliant, and Adrienne had heard enough. ‘I think not,’ she said, giving her daughter an impatient look. ‘Joanna isn’t staying in Miami, Sophie. She’s here to speak to Matt about a—a—’ She hesitated uncertainly, obviously aware of Matt’s narrow-eyed disapproval. ‘Um—about a personal matter,’ she finished awkwardly. ‘She’ll be going back to London tomorrow. Isn’t that right, Joanna?’

Before Joanna had a chance to answer, Sophie’s face clouded with disappointment. She’d clearly understood what her mother was trying to say. Her jaw dropped as she turned to her brother. ‘That’s why Joanna booked a room at the Corcovado, isn’t it?’ she demanded fiercely. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve asked her for a divorce?’