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CHAPTER EIGHT

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JOANNA MOISTENED LIPS that had suddenly become as dry as the desert. ‘Um—yes, Mr Johnson,’ she said, with evident reluctance, Matt thought. ‘I know Mr Novak.’

‘Novak?’ The older man frowned. ‘He said his name was Carlyle.’

‘No, you’ve assumed that,’ Matt contradicted him shortly, getting tired of this fruitless exchange. ‘However, she is my wife.’ He arched his dark brows at Joanna. ‘Am I right?’

Joanna hesitated, but, aware that the caretaker was watching their exchange, she said, ‘For the present.’

She heaved a breath, and then spoke again to the man. ‘Actually, I wanted to tell you I’m going away tomorrow for a few days.’ She might wish she hadn’t chosen this particular moment to give the caretaker this news, but it was too late now. She’d been on her way back from the laundry in the basement and it had seemed the ideal opportunity. ‘Would you mind keeping an eye on the apartment for me, Mr Johnson?’

‘No problem, Ms Carlyle,’ he said, annoying Matt anew with his familiarity. ‘I hope you’re going somewhere warm. It’s been so cold these last few days.’

‘Hasn’t it?’

Joanna managed a smile before heading back towards the lift, with Matt following her. But although he evidently expected her to press the button, she stopped and turned to face him instead. ‘Well?’

‘Well?’ he said blankly. ‘Well, what?’

‘I assume you came here to talk to me. So, go ahead, talk.’

‘Not here.’ Matt’s patience was shredding. ‘I suggest we go up to your apartment.’

Joanna squared her shoulders and glanced at her watch—the slim Patek Philippe watch, he’d given her, Matt noticed, reassured that she hadn’t abandoned it along with everything else. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said stiffly, ‘that’s not convenient. You should have given me some warning that you were coming to England.’

‘As you warned me you were coming to Miami?’ suggested Matt tensely. ‘What’s wrong? Do you already have a visitor? Is my arrival inconvenient?’

Joanna pursed her lips. ‘No—and yes,’ she replied, shifting a little nervously. ‘What do you want, Matt? It’s a bit late for a social call.’

‘Is it?’

Matt was sardonic, and Joanna gave a weary sigh. ‘It is when I have things to do.’

‘Because you’re going away?’

‘Yes. You’ve just heard that I’m going away tomorrow.’ He noticed she was avoiding his gaze. ‘I still need to tidy the apartment and finish my packing.’

Matt scowled. ‘Where are you going?’ His eyes narrowed. ‘More to the point, who are you going with?’

Joanna smoothed the laundry in the basket. ‘Does it matter? We decided some time ago that our relationship is over.’

‘Did we? Was that before or after you got me into bed?’

‘I didn’t—’ Joanna broke off, wondering what he’d say if she told him she’d been expecting him to contact her for the past three weeks. ‘I hope you’re not anticipating another one-night stand.’

‘I’m not.’ His voice was harsh.

But, in truth, his feelings for her hadn’t changed. Yet why would he expect a warm welcome? It had taken him three weeks to come and find her and she didn’t know why.

As if sensing his frustration, she finally pressed the button to summon the lift. When the doors opened and she stepped inside, he followed her. She definitely didn’t want to cause a scene. Besides, ridiculous as it seemed, she was glad to see Matt.

But unfortunately, that reminded her of how he’d looked the last time she’d seen him, naked in bed. And she definitely shouldn’t be thinking about that now. He did look a little weary, however, but he was still a disturbingly handsome man.

In charcoal pants and an olive-green buttoned sweater, a black cashmere jacket accentuating the powerful width of his shoulders, he was achingly familiar. His attractive features were in no way diminished by the hard line of his mouth. A mouth that had always—always—been fascinating to her. She even found herself wondering if the reason he hadn’t contacted her was because he’d had a recurrence of his illness.

God, why did she care?

‘So, are you going to tell me where you’re going?’ he asked, as she pressed the button for the third floor. ‘Or is it a state secret?’

Joanna sighed. ‘I’m going to Cornwall,’ she said, trying to keep focussed. ‘I’m going to spend a few days with my mother and Lionel. It’s some time since I’ve seen them.’

‘Really?’ Matt’s tone was even. ‘Does Glenys know you want a divorce?’

‘We haven’t discussed it, no.’ Joanna spoke quickly. She’d been avoiding that conversation in fact. Her mother knew they were separated, but Joanna had never debated the reasons with her. Glenys had always been fond of Matt, and Joanna had known she would likely take his side if she told her what Angus had said.

Matt’s brows arched enquiringly. ‘Why haven’t you told her before now?’

Joanna drew in a breath. ‘Because, I haven’t,’ she said shortly, catching herself before she admitted the truth. ‘I’m taking the morning train to Truro. I intend to tell her while I’m there.’

The lift stopped at the third floor before Matt could answer. But, just in case she had any notion of scurrying into her apartment and locking him out, he took the basket of clean laundry out of her hands.

‘Let me,’ he said, with restrained courtesy. ‘It’s the least I can do.’

Joanna made no response. What would be the point? If he’d taken the trouble to come here, he evidently had something to say.

‘I could come with you,’ he offered, as she fumbled in the pocket of her tight jeans for her key. ‘I’d like to see Glenys again.’

‘You’re joking!’ Joanna cast a startled look over her shoulder. ‘Don’t you have work to do?’

Matt wasn’t deterred. ‘Perhaps I’d enjoy a break. I have been to Cornwall before.’

Of course, he had. When Joanna and Matt were first married, both Glenys and Lionel Avery had made them very welcome in both their London home and the house in Padsworth.

These days the Averys lived permanently in the small fishing village not far from Truro. Although Lionel still commuted to London once a month to check on his wine-importing business, he and Glenys had made a very comfortable life for themselves in Cornwall.

With some misgivings, Joanna opened the door into the apartment and Matt followed her inside. He had never been to the apartment before, and she would have preferred to keep it that way. Apart from the fact that it was small and rather shabby, there were no disturbing images to upset her here. No lingering memories of the life they’d once shared.

Now that would change. Now that he’d filled the place with his masculinity and his magnetism, it was never going to feel the same again. The small foyer that gave onto a studio-type space, serving as both kitchen and living room, was dwarfed by his presence. She could only be grateful he’d have no reason to go into her bedroom or its adjoining bath.

For his part, Matt looked about him with interest. Cream walls, a terracotta-coloured carpet, a green sofa with a matching easy chair. It didn’t bear any resemblance to the luxurious apartment they’d once shared in Knightsbridge, but it was cosy. And Matt guessed that for Joanna it represented independence.

He looked at her now as she snatched the basket of clothes out of his hands, and stood with it in her arms. Even when she was wearing frayed jeans and a skimpy tee shirt he found her fascinating. But her mood was less so, and she regarded him with wary eyes.

‘I don’t want you to come to Cornwall with me,’ she said stiffly. ‘Mum and Lionel would get the wrong idea.’

‘And that would be?’

‘That I’ve changed my mind about the divorce,’ she declared staunchly.

‘But you’ve just said they don’t know anything about it.’ Matt’s tone was dry. ‘So they could hardly get the wrong idea.’

Joanna pursed her lips. ‘They’ll know soon enough.’ She paused. ‘And I haven’t changed my mind, so there’s no point in pretending otherwise.’

Matt regarded her narrowly. ‘At the risk of another argument, I’d say you’re pretty good at giving people the wrong idea.’

‘Because of what happened in Miami?’ Joanna could feel her cheeks burning. ‘That—that was a one-off. It won’t happen again.’

Matt was sardonic. ‘Gee, you’ve no idea how good that makes me feel.’

‘It wasn’t like that.’ Joanna bent her head. ‘It just happened.’

‘The result of too much wine and adrenalin, is that it?’

‘Something like that.’ Joanna moved to set the basket of laundry on the kitchen counter. She tried not to be daunted by his height, or the way he towered over her in her trainers. ‘I suppose you’re wondering why I didn’t stick around until you’d woken up?’

‘Well, that would be a start.’ Matt regarded her with dark enquiring eyes. ‘Or were you afraid of what might happen if I did?’

‘You flatter yourself,’ said Joanna tartly, but she was glad he couldn’t read her thoughts. ‘As you say, I’d had too much to drink and I was—I was embarrassed about how I’d behaved.’

Matt gave an incredulous laugh. ‘Are you in the habit of having sex with men when you’ve had too much to drink?’

‘No.’ Joanna was indignant. ‘I’ve never done anything like that before, and you should know it. And I didn’t have sex with men! You were—you still are—my husband. It was foolish, but—life happens.’

Doesn’t it just? mused Matt grimly, wondering why he’d ever thought she’d want to see him again. Right now, he had the mother of all headaches, and a belated belief that he’d made yet another mistake.

‘So, tell me,’ he said, ‘why didn’t you just let me go? If you’re so desperate to get a divorce, it would have been the simplest thing to do.’

Joanna stifled a groan. Didn’t she know it? What madness had gripped her? All she knew was that she’d revealed a side of herself she hadn’t even known existed. That Matt hadn’t known existed. And she wasn’t proud of it.

Oh, God!

With a feeling of defeat, she wrapped her arms around herself. If only she’d left for Cornwall this morning before Matt chose to come here and humiliate her again.

Matt brooded now, his brows descending over eyes as dark as midnight. ‘I simply don’t understand.’

‘I know.’ Joanna pressed her hands together. And then another thought occurred to her. ‘Anyway,’ she added, ‘you’ve taken long enough to decide you wanted to see me again.’

‘I have, haven’t I?’ Matt’s tone hardened with his words. ‘I had my reasons.’

‘Maybe there was some other woman you had to get rid of first,’ suggested Joanna, achieving an air of indifference she was far from feeling. ‘Should I be flattered that you’re here at all?’

‘Don’t try to be clever,’ said Matt wearily. ‘There is no other woman.’ He paused. ‘You can’t blame me because you lost your nerve.’

Joanna wished she had his skill in always having an answer. His ability to peel the skin from her flesh with his words left her feeling raw and exposed.

‘Anyway, I bet you were on the phone to the airport before you even had a shower!’ she retorted, seeking vindication. ‘You could have found me before now, if that’s what you’d really wanted to do.’

‘Is that what you expected?’

‘No!’ Her flush deepened, but she had to be honest. ‘Well, perhaps.’

‘Really?’ Matt suddenly recalled the phone call he’d received from Sophie with a shudder of revulsion. ‘Well, perhaps I would have done just that, but, as I said before—something came up.’

Joanna shrugged with what she hoped looked like acceptance. Not looking at him, she pulled some of the clothes out of the basket and started folding towels and underwear. ‘So what distracted you?’ she asked, unable to leave it alone. ‘If it wasn’t a woman—’

Matt’s eyes were suddenly as cold as ice chips. ‘As a matter of fact, I got a call that my father had had another stroke. Forgive me, but that news kind of took precedence over everything else.’

Secret Heirs Collection

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