One night back in her husband’s bed...

The inability to have a child left Joanna and Matt Novak’s passionate marriage in tatters. But when Joanna asks her tycoon husband for a divorce, Matt makes it clear he expects them to remain married...in the most intimate of ways!

As tempers flare, the raging desire between them explodes—just once more, Matt and Joanna give in to the thrill of each other’s touch.

In the shattering aftermath of their explosive encounter, they agree to part ways...until Joanna discovers one tiny consequence of their night together—she’s carrying Matt’s baby!

Matt moved forward. ‘Well, let me see,’ he said, and there wasn’t an atom of warmth in his voice. ‘I thought you might have something you wanted to tell me.’ His eyes swept insolently down her body, lingering with undisguised contempt on the bump that swelled her dress. ‘Ah, I see you do—’

Somehow Joanna found the words to defend herself. Which wasn’t easy when Matt was gazing at her with contempt in his eyes. His jaw had hardened, and in spite of everything she couldn’t look away from him. He looked so good, she thought resentfully. His skin was deeply tanned—evidence of his change of occupation—and he’d had his hair cut shorter, exposing the strong column of his neck.

Joanna held up a hand. ‘All right, all right,’ she broke in unsteadily. ‘It’s your baby. I’m not denying it.’

‘So what now?’ Matt asked tersely. ‘After all, it’s not every day your ex-wife finds she’s pregnant with your child after the divorce.’

ANNE MATHER and her husband live in the north of England in a village bordering the county of Yorkshire. It’s a beautiful area, and she can’t imagine living anywhere else. She’s been making up stories since she was in primary school and would say that writing is a huge part of her life. When people ask if writing is a lonely occupation, she usually says that she’s so busy sorting out her characters’ lives, she doesn’t have time to feel lonely. Anne’s written over 160 novels, and her books have appeared on both the New York Times and USA TODAY bestseller lists. She loves reading and walking and browsing in bookshops. And now that her son and daughter are grown she takes great delight in her grandchildren. You can email her at mystic-am@msn.com.

Books by Anne Mather

Mills & Boon Modern Romance

A Dangerous Taste of Passion

Morelli’s Mistress

A Forbidden Temptation

Innocent Virgin, Wild Surrender

His Forbidden Passion

The Brazilian Millionaire’s Love-Child

Mendez’s Mistress

Bedded for the Italian’s Pleasure

The Greek Tycoon’s Pregnant Wife

The Pregnancy Affair

Stay Through the Night

Jack Riordan’s Baby

The Virgin’s Seduction

Visit the Author Profile page at millsandboon.co.uk for more titles.

An Heir Made in the Marriage Bed

Anne Mather

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my wonderful family, Fred, Kate, Nick,

Lyn, Abi and Ben, and not forgetting Dolly.

What would I do without you?

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

THE LATE AFTERNOON sun was still too hot.

Matt Novak shifted impatiently on the cushioned recliner his mother had had one of the maids place in the shaded area of the patio. The khaki shorts he was wearing with a black tee shirt were damp with perspiration. But he intended to go to the gym later. He was sick and tired of doing nothing at all.

Ahead of him, sunlight was dazzling on the waters of the canal that lapped against the sea wall. Even the dark sunglasses he was wearing couldn’t entirely protect his eyes from the glare of the bay beyond.

There was a banyan tree beside the patio, its gnarled branches almost invisible beneath trailing blossoms of flowering vines. His father’s sailing dinghy was tied to the dock, rocking gently at its mooring. He could smell the dampness of the vegetation growing out of the waterway and the unmistakeable scent of the sea.

It was all very beautiful and very peaceful, but Matt had had enough of being treated like an invalid. To begin with, it had been quite pleasant to be waited on hand and foot, but now his mother was beginning to get on his nerves. She made no attempt to hide her disapproval when he went and bench-pressed his own weight in the gym. She really didn’t want to accept that he was feeling fine.

As witness her reluctance to let him use a computer.

His own laptop and phone had been stolen while he was in the hospital in Caracas, and to begin with he couldn’t have cared less. The tropical fever that had struck him down during his trip to Venezuela had been very unpleasant, and he’d needed all his strength to defeat it. But his mother wouldn’t accept that he was over that now, and she was doing everything in her power to keep him here in Coral Gables.

The only fly in her ointment was that his father had abandoned his retirement and taken over the New York office of Novak Oil Exploration and Shipping again. Matt’s job until three months ago.

He scowled. Not that he objected to that. He’d already decided that spending the rest of his life in a boardroom wasn’t for him. Now he had to convince his parents of the fact.

However that wasn’t all that was bugging him at this moment. Despite the many emails he’d asked his mother to send to his estranged wife who lived in London, Joanna hadn’t responded to any of them.

Yes, she was probably still mad at him. He got that. But didn’t she care now if he lived or died? It seemed not, and, although he had replaced his iPhone, she’d changed her number after their separation.

He could have rung the gallery where she was working, but he had no desire to speak to David Bellamy. He had more pride than to admit he didn’t have his wife’s new number. But he was planning to leave for London at the end of the week. The sooner he could speak to her in person, the better.

The sound of a car’s engine broke the silence.

Matt stiffened, wondering who was visiting his mother today. Then he remembered. His sister, Sophie, who was staying with them at the moment, had gone into Miami to see one of her friends off at the airport. He thought the engine was that of his mother’s little Mazda, but, at the sound of more than one pair of footsteps coming along the paved pathway from the front of the house, he wondered who the hell Sophie had brought back with her.

Not another woman for him to admire, he hoped. He’d had his fill of his mother’s attempts to interest him in some well-connected girl. He and Joanna might be having their problems, but they were still married and he firmly believed they’d eventually work their issues out.

But it wasn’t a friend of Sophie’s. Well, only indirectly.

The young woman following his sister was far more familiar to him. Tall and slim, yet with a curvaceous figure, shown to effect in an open-necked silk shirt and a swirly skirt that ended just above her knees, she looked stunning. A sexy riot of sun-streaked hair curled about her shoulders, and she met his startled gaze with wary violet eyes.

The last time he’d seen his estranged wife had been at her father’s funeral nine months ago. Though on that occasion she hadn’t known he was there. Before that, it had been when she’d walked out of their London apartment. She’d sworn then she never wanted to see him again, and yet here she was.

Halleluiah!

Sophie looked anxious, he thought. ‘Look who I found at the airport,’ she exclaimed, trying for a cheerful tone, and Matt got instantly to his feet.

For her part, Joanna was on edge. She hadn’t wanted to come here, to Matt’s parents’ house. Not like this. She needed to speak to her husband, of course she did, but she’d booked herself a room for the night at a hotel on Miami Beach and she’d been hoping to invite Matt to join her for dinner that evening. Turning up here, unannounced, had not been her intention.

Until Sophie had informed her that Matt had been seriously ill.

When she’d boarded the flight from New York to Miami that morning, she hadn’t really known if she’d find her husband here. He wasn’t in London, and she’d discovered he wasn’t at the New York office either, so she’d known he could be anywhere.

The Novak Corporation or NovCo, as it appeared on the stock exchange, had offices all over the world. But Matt tended to work in one of two places and, after flying to New York and learning that only the elder Mr Novak was available, she’d felt compelled to try here.

Of course, she’d wondered why Matt’s father should be in charge. Oliver Novak had retired to Florida a couple of years ago, and Joanna was sure he wouldn’t have returned to work unless something was wrong. But even then, it hadn’t occurred to her that Matt might be involved.

She could have asked to speak to Oliver, she supposed. That would have been the sensible thing to do. But, much as she liked Matt’s father, she was loath to involve him in what was actually a personal affair. This was something she needed to speak to her husband about herself.

She’d decided to come to Florida as a last resort. It didn’t necessarily follow that if Oliver Novak was in New York, his son was in Miami, but it was worth a try. Maybe Matt wasn’t reading his emails, which she found hard to believe. Or maybe he was simply ignoring her demands.

She wasn’t looking forward to seeing his mother again. Adrienne Novak had never liked her. Joanna was sure she’d have been delighted when she and Matt separated. She’d never regarded Joanna as good enough for her son, and had lost no opportunity to create trouble for them.

It had been particularly painful for Joanna when she and Matt had been trying for a baby. Despite consulting fertility calendars and temperature gauges, Joanna hadn’t fallen pregnant, and Adrienne had implied that, as the Novaks’ only son, Matt naturally wanted an heir. And if not with her...

Adrienne hadn’t finished the sentence, but Joanna had known exactly what she meant. Her mother-in-law had taken every opportunity to turn the knife.

It was totally by chance that Joanna had run into Matt’s sister at the airport. Sophie had been there to say goodbye to a friend from California, and she’d been delighted to see her sister-in-law.

She and Joanna had been good friends in the days when they had lived in New York. Sophie was older than Matt, but nothing at all like her mother. She’d sympathised with Joanna’s disappointment at not having a baby, even though her own marriage, engineered by her mother, was heading for the rocks.

Sophie, learning that Joanna was here to see Matt, had suggested that she should come back to the house with her. And when Joanna had demurred, explaining that she’d planned to stay at a hotel for tonight, Sophie had said something that had totally changed her mind.

‘Matt’s virtually recovered now and he’ll be so glad to see you,’ she’d chattered on guilelessly. ‘You know what my mother’s like. Even though Matt’s got over the infection, she’s hoping to keep him at home for a few more days at least.’

Not knowing what Sophie was talking about, Joanna had been shocked to learn that her husband was recovering from some tropical illness he’d picked up in South America. It explained why their father was running the company in his absence, but she wished someone had let her know.

Matt wouldn’t want her to stay at a hotel, Sophie had insisted, although Joanna had seen the curiosity in her sister-in-law’s eyes. Which begged the question, what had Matt told his parents about their break-up? Surely, he’d explained to his family why Joanna was trying to contact him now?

It seemed not.

Whatever, Joanna had known she wouldn’t be welcome at the house in Coral Gables whether Matt was there or not. Yet if Matt’s mother knew why she’d been trying to get in touch with her son, why hadn’t she told him? Bearing in mind the length of their separation, Joanna was surprised she hadn’t persuaded her son to apply for a divorce himself.

Sophie, of course, had jumped to her own conclusions. She’d assumed her sister-in-law was here to heal the breach. ‘I know you and Matt have had your problems,’ she’d said, aware that Joanna and her brother had been living apart for the past eleven months. ‘But I’m sure you’ve both had time to realise you need one another. Matt’s been pretty down ever since he came back from Venezuela.’

Which would be the result of the infection he’d picked up, Joanna had reminded herself firmly. It was unlikely his depression had anything to do with her. But Sophie had always been her friend and she’d been loath to upset her. And perhaps the sooner the confrontation was over—if there was to be a confrontation—the better.

Matt’s eyes were hidden behind dark glasses, and, despite her nerves, Joanna couldn’t help noticing that he had lost weight. Yet, at thirty-eight, he would still draw women’s eyes wherever he went, she conceded bitterly. She’d always thought he was the sexiest man she’d ever known.

But she wasn’t here to conduct a one-woman lust-fest, she thought irritably. Looking at him now, she felt sure the emails she’d sent must have reached him. Surely, he hadn’t been so ill that he couldn’t read his mail?

Despite his loss of weight, he looked reasonably fit. And just as disturbingly attractive as before. There was a brooding sensuality about his dark countenance that had always caused a pleasurable buzz inside her. And despite everything that had gone before, she was unhappily aware that that hadn’t changed.

Some people might say that his eyes were too deep-set or his mouth too thin, but she knew better. Matt’s looks were too sensual to be ignored. Which was why she’d sent the emails in the first place; why she’d hoped he wouldn’t contest her request for a divorce. She’d fought against having to see him again. She’d known how vulnerable she still was where he was concerned.

It was infuriating, but she couldn’t deny the way her breathing hitched when he came towards her. Don’t touch me, she thought, panicking, and felt a totally ridiculous urge to flee.

‘Jo,’ he said, pulling off his sunglasses, his deep voice scraping like sandpaper over her tortured nerves. ‘How good of you to come.’

Was that sarcasm in his voice? Joanna couldn’t be sure, but when he held out a hand to her, she pretended not to see it. She didn’t want him to detect the crazy tattoo of her heart or the heat that swept up her throat from her chest at his nearness. But she was unhappily aware that the hollow between her breasts revealed a betraying trace of moisture to his narrow-eyed gaze.

‘Sophie says you’ve been ill,’ she said quickly, sensing his appraisal and wishing she hadn’t unfastened her shirt on the trip from the airport. The vest below the shirt was adequate, but hardly modest. ‘I’m sorry. Are you feeling better now?’

Matt’s hand dropped to his side and he regarded her through puzzled eyes. His dark lashes narrowed his gaze, but she sensed she’d said—and probably done—the wrong thing. Didn’t he know that no one had thought to inform her of his state of health?

‘I’m surprised you took so long to get here,’ he responded, unknowingly answering her question. And Sophie, sensing that all was not as it should be, broke in.

‘I found Joanna at the airport,’ she exclaimed, evidently trying to divert the conversation. ‘She’d just flown in from New York this morning. She was planning to book into a hotel, but I persuaded her to come with me instead.’

‘Really?’ said Matt, and from his tone Joanna sensed he definitely wasn’t pleased. His eyes impaled her. ‘Why were you planning on staying at a hotel?’

‘I thought it was wise.’ Joanna tried to sound casual. ‘After all, this is your parents’ house and I hadn’t warned anyone I was coming.’

‘Did you feel you had to?’

‘Obviously,’ she said, not really understanding where this was going.

‘But you got the emails my mother sent you, I assume,’ said Matt impatiently. ‘I have to admit, I’d expected a more—what shall I say? —sympathetic response?’

Which was when Sophie evidently decided to leave them to it. With a rueful wave of her hand, and a ‘See you later’, she slipped away into the house.

But as far as Joanna was concerned, the older girl’s departure only heightened the tension between them and she took an involuntary step backwards. What emails was he talking about? Evidently not her own.

Shaking her head, she went on, ‘Believe it or not, when I flew down from New York, I knew nothing about your illness. If I had, I’d have got in touch with you sooner. When I found out you weren’t at the New York office, I could only guess where you might be.’

‘Didn’t my father tell you?’ Matt asked impatiently, and then realised that if Oliver had seen Joanna—or spoken to her, for that matter—he’d have let his son know.

‘I didn’t speak to your father,’ said Joanna uncomfortably. ‘I wanted to speak to you.’

‘Am I to understand that you’ve had no word from me?’

‘Yes.’ Joanna squared her shoulders. ‘Why would I lie?’

‘Why indeed?’

Joanna was indignant. ‘If you’d bothered to read any of my messages, you’d know why I’m here.’

‘Your messages?’ Matt looked bemused and Joanna felt a sense of disbelief.

‘This is ridiculous,’ she exclaimed. ‘We’re talking at cross purposes here. I’m talking about the half-dozen or so emails I’ve sent you in the past few weeks.’ She steeled herself to meet his gaze. ‘I can’t believe you haven’t read any of them.’

‘I haven’t.’ Matt returned her stare. ‘First of all, I’ve been in hospital in both Caracas and Miami. And afterwards, I let my mother deal with any correspondence.’

Oh, why am I not surprised? thought Joanna bitterly, as comprehension dawned. What a golden opportunity for Adrienne to drive another wedge between them this had been.

If there hadn’t been one there already, she appended bitterly.

‘That’s why my father’s in New York.’ Matt lifted his shoulders in a dismissive gesture. ‘As soon as he realised I’d need some time to convalesce, he insisted on taking over. I suspect retirement was getting boring. Whatever, he couldn’t wait to get on the plane.’

Taking over was something the Novaks were very familiar with, Joanna thought grimly. But when Oliver Novak had had a mild stroke two years ago, his doctors had advised him to give up his job as CEO of NovCo.

That was when Matt had taken over, and because Joanna hadn’t wanted to leave her father, who’d just been diagnosed with lung cancer, Matt had agreed that he should divide his time between the New York hub and the London affiliate.

A double-edged sword, Joanna admitted now. Her and Matt’s relationship had already been strained by their inability to conceive, and her unwillingness to discuss her feelings with him. It hadn’t helped at all to hear about Matt wining and dining male and female investors, even though that had always been part of his job.

It had never bothered her before, she conceded. In those days, she’d believed Matt loved her, and she’d trusted him implicitly. But being unable to conceive had made her vulnerable, in ways she’d never considered before.

‘I had no idea what was going on,’ she declared now, looping the strap of her bag over her shoulder and straightening her spine to face him. ‘I’m not without feelings, you know.’

But she suspected she now knew what had happened to the messages she’d sent Matt. If they’d passed through his mother’s hands, Adrienne must have read them. But that didn’t really explain why she hadn’t passed them on.

Nevertheless, her reasons for being here hadn’t changed. She wanted a divorce. It was as simple and as complicated as that. Simple, because all Matt had to do was agree not to contest it; and complicated, because when her father sold his small company to the Novak Corporation, Matt had made her a shareholder in NovCo.

Not that she wanted any part of the organisation now. But the legal aspects of the situation would have to be gone through. She had hoped that after this interview Matt might come to London, which would have made things easier. But she was here now and she had to accept the situation as it was.

She should have taken David Bellamy’s advice, she thought ruefully. Her boss at the art gallery, where she’d been working when she met Matt and where she was working again now, had warned her she should leave any communication between them to a solicitor. David had never liked Matt. He had been of the opinion that a man like Matthew Novak was used to women falling at his feet, and he’d been convinced their marriage wouldn’t last.

And it hadn’t.

‘You know what he’s like,’ David had said on more than one occasion. ‘He believes he can twist you round his little finger. And if he thinks I’m involved in your decision, he’s bound to be suspicious. Do you really want to give him the chance to change your mind?’

‘Matt couldn’t do that,’ she’d retorted at once, the distance between them convincing her she was right.

And she was right, she silently insisted. She had only to think of her father, and the torment he must have suffered during his last illness, to know there was no going back.

Of course, that was months ago now, and her father was dead. But the bitterness she’d felt towards Matt had never gone away. She’d even convinced herself that the love they’d shared had been only a mirage. She was an independent woman these days and she wanted to keep it that way.

Ergo, the divorce.

Even so, she hadn’t been prepared for learning that Matt had been ill. When Sophie had first told her what had been going on, her reaction had made a mockery of everything she’d claimed.

She’d truly believed she was immune to Matt’s dark attraction; that she’d be able to look at him and speak to him without feeling the pull of his sensuality.

But once again, she’d been wrong...

CHAPTER TWO

YET WHAT DID that mean? That she was having second thoughts? But no, Joanna assured herself severely. She was merely reacting to the sexuality of the man, not to any lingering emotions she might feel.

Matt was regarding her with brooding eyes. Clearly, he was as bemused by the situation as she was. But he evidently had his own agenda, and, gesturing towards the chairs, he said, ‘Why don’t you sit down? I’ll order some refreshments. If you didn’t come to find out if I was still alive, why are you here?’

Joanna hesitated. Did she really want to behave as if this were just a social visit? Yet what else could she do in the present circumstances?

So, ‘All right,’ she said offhandedly and a snap of Matt’s fingers brought one of the household staff to the patio.

He ordered both coffee and a jug of iced tea, and then suggested that Joanna should take the lounger beside his own.

There were several chairs set in the shade of a striped awning and, resigning herself to the situation, Joanna took the one he indicated. But she couldn’t help stiffening when Matt seated himself beside her, lowering the footrest and turning his chair sideways so that his bare knees were only inches from her own.

They were alone, and Joanna put down her handbag and smoothed her hair back from her face. It had been tumbled on the ride from the airport, and she wished she’d had time to use a comb. Sophie’s car was a convertible, and, endeavouring a compromise, Joanna looped several errant strands behind her ears.

Matt, watching her, couldn’t help noticing how silky her hair was and recalling how soft her skin used to feel beneath his hands. It had been too long since they’d been together and he was impatient to tell her that, whatever had gone before, he was sorry they’d been living apart.

But would she be any more inclined to hear it now than she had before?

Meanwhile, Joanna was wishing she hadn’t run into Sophie at the airport. A phone call to the Novaks’ house would have surely elicited the information that Matt had been ill and she might well have waited until tomorrow before contacting him. She was not without feelings, but if she’d been able to invite Matt to the hotel, she would have felt a little more in control.

‘So...’ Matt regarded her enquiringly, arching a dark brow. ‘Do I take it you have not forgiven me?’

Joanna pressed her lips together. His words were so unexpected. ‘Did you think I would?’

‘It has been nine months since your father died,’ declared Matt quietly. ‘I regret that whole incident, but it wasn’t my fault.’

Joanna stared at him. ‘Yes, so you said,’ she declared coolly. ‘Nevertheless, my father trusted you.’

‘And I trusted him,’ he said harshly, unable to prevent himself, ‘which shows what a fool I was. Angus Carlyle trusted no one. Even your mother realised that.’

‘Leave my mother out of this,’ exclaimed Joanna tersely. ‘She was hardly a role model. She had an affair with another man.’

‘Not while she was married to your father. Glenys met Lionel Avery after she’d asked for a divorce,’ declared Matt flatly. ‘I hope you haven’t continued to hold that against her.’

‘My relationship with my mother is no concern of yours.’

‘No.’ Matt conceded the fact. ‘But Angus was a jealous man, Jo. He resented the fact that she was happy. He resented our marriage, as well.’

‘That’s not true!’

‘Of course, it’s true. You were his little girl. He wanted to keep you that way. I’m surprised he let you work at Bellamy’s gallery. He can’t have known the guy was in love with you, too.’

Joanna’s jaw dropped. ‘That’s ridiculous! David doesn’t love me.’

Matt shrugged and expelled a weary breath. Reaching for her hand, he ran his fingers sensuously over her knuckles. ‘Let’s not talk about Bellamy or your father, Jo. The past is the past. I prefer to think about the future.’

Joanna had felt as if she were frozen until he touched her, but now she snatched her hand away. ‘We have no future,’ she said abruptly. ‘You have to know that.’

Matt’s expression darkened once again. ‘I know nothing of the kind,’ he replied, though there was a trace of bitterness in his tone now. ‘Are you going to let your father’s lies ruin your whole life?’

‘My father didn’t lie to me,’ she declared stiffly. ‘He told me the truth.’

‘His truth.’ Matt gazed at her with frustrated eyes. ‘I love you, Jo. Tell me what I can do to make things right.’

It was an actual effort, but Joanna dragged her eyes away from his. ‘I haven’t come here to try and mend our differences.’

Matt’s lips twisted. ‘I had guessed that.’

‘So, you must have realised—’

But she didn’t get to finish her sentence. Before she could blurt out that the only reason she was here was because she wanted a divorce, the man who had taken Matt’s order for refreshments returned.

And he wasn’t alone. An older woman, dressed in grey silk lounging pants and a matching grey smock, emerged from the villa behind them.

‘Matt,’ she began, her drawling voice revealing her discontent. ‘What is this Aaron tells me about you having a visitor? Someone Sophie brought back from the airport?’

And then, she saw Joanna, and her lips tightened angrily.

‘My God,’ she exclaimed, involuntarily Joanna was sure.

‘I—what are you doing here?’

* * *

A couple of hours later, Joanna was surveying her reflection in the long bathroom mirror adjoining one of the guest suites.

God, she thought incredulously. How had she got herself into this mess? She’d had no intention of staying at the Novak house any longer than was necessary. Yet here she was, committed to having dinner with Matt and his family. Committed to spending an evening fighting off Adrienne’s hostility and Matt’s magnetic appeal.

But only an evening. When Matt had suggested she should stay at the villa, she’d reminded him that she’d booked a room at the Corcovado already. Otherwise God knew what Matt might have expected of her. To share his suite of rooms, perhaps? She couldn’t deny an involuntary shiver at the thought.

It was all Adrienne’s fault, she decided. The way Matt’s mother had reacted when she’d seen her daughter-in-law had put Joanna’s nerves on edge. The woman had obviously never expected her to come to Miami. And why not? Matt was usually based in New York.

The situation hadn’t improved when Matt had accused her of interfering. ‘I believe you knew Joanna was trying to get in touch with me,’ he’d said harshly, getting to his feet. ‘When were you planning on telling me about that?’

And, when she had evidently been lost for an answer, he’d continued, ‘Oh, and what happened to the messages I asked you to send to Joanna? Can I assume they didn’t make it either?’

‘Don’t be sarcastic, Matthew!’ Adrienne’s face had become even redder than when she’d first seen her daughter-in-law. ‘I didn’t want you tearing off to London when you’d been so ill. I can assure you, anything I’ve done has been with your best interests at heart.’

Well, at least that explained why she’d said nothing, Joanna conceded. And perhaps, in the circumstances, she’d had a point.

‘So you have been screening my mail.’ Matt hadn’t been inclined to be tolerant, and the look Adrienne had bestowed on Joanna then showed a little of the anger she was trying so hard to suppress.

‘As I’ve just said, I didn’t think you were well enough to deal with your—wife’s—problems.’ There had been a distinct hesitation before the word ‘wife’. ‘I would have told you, Matt. Eventually. I never suspected she’d turn up here, uninvited.’

Joanna had gasped at this, getting to her feet to confront the other woman. ‘I didn’t want to come here,’ she’d said tersely. ‘Your daughter invited me. She was kind enough to tell me that Matt had been ill.’

‘As if you care.’

Adrienne had spoken contemptuously, only to be taken aback when Matt had intervened. ‘That’s enough,’ he’d said grimly. ‘Joanna’s here now. And whether you attempted to thwart her efforts to get in touch with me or not, I think she deserves some respect, don’t you?’

Joanna doubted Adrienne thought any such thing, but she’d known when to give up. The fact that Matt had defended her must have been a bitter pill for her to swallow, and just for a moment Joanna had been tempted to wrap her arms around his neck and pretend she’d come here to forgive him after all.

But that would have been foolish. Not to mention giving Matt entirely the wrong idea. Until she’d told him why she was here, she had to keep her distance. If only Adrienne didn’t arouse such a reckless desire for revenge.

Matt’s invitation to stay for dinner had been unavoidable.

‘But I need to change,’ she’d protested. ‘My things are still in the suitcase in Sophie’s car. Why don’t I call a taxi for now, check in at the hotel, and come back again tomorrow? It will give you a chance to read my emails, and then we can discuss why I’m here.’

‘What a good idea,’ Adrienne had inserted eagerly, but Matt would have none of it.

‘I’m not asking you to move in,’ he’d said shortly. ‘Surely you can pull a change of clothes out of your case. Then you can have a shower and rest for a while until the meal is ready. I do know how exhausting jet lag can be.’

So here she was, Joanna reflected, preparing to join the rest of the family for the evening meal. But her reflection in the mirror filled her with regret. She hadn’t brought any formal clothes with her and the simple sage-green silk tunic, which she’d planned on teaming with a pair of black leggings to travel home the next day, ended several revealing inches above her knees. Without the leggings—which were too hot to wear tonight—she’d never been more conscious of her bare legs.

There was no doubt that Adrienne wouldn’t like it; might even think Joanna had chosen something purposely provocative to wear. Which was so far from the truth, it was laughable. The last thing Joanna wanted was to have Matt think she’d had second thoughts about the divorce.

And yet, when he’d reached for her hand...

But she refused to entertain such treacherous thoughts. She was sure the problems in their relationship would have developed whether her father had been involved or not.

The rift between them had probably begun to crystallise when her father’s company was found to be in difficulties. They’d only been married for a couple of years and, unbeknown to Joanna, Carlyle Construction had been struggling with financial problems for equally as long. It was before Angus Carlyle had been diagnosed with cancer that he’d welcomed NovCo’s assistance. It had been the only way to avoid insolvency and debt.

However, after the takeover, her father had insisted his difficulties had arisen because of the downturn in the economy, though Matt had told her they’d existed long before that. At the time, Joanna had been so grateful to Matt for his support that she hadn’t questioned his assessment. It had been enough to know her father was solvent again, that Carlyle Construction lived on.

Until the disaster in the Alaskan oilfield.

Two men had been killed and several more injured when a drilling platform owned by NovCo had caught fire. It had made all the newspapers on both sides of the Atlantic, with horrifying pictures of the rescue that had taken place. Joanna had been desperate to speak to her husband, to assure herself that he was well and to learn the truth about the incident. But Matt had been working in New York, and had been tied up in meetings with the offshore oil and gas authorities, and had promised they’d talk in more length when he got back.

And then, when she’d visited her father, who had been in hospital at the time, he’d told her—with some reluctance, he’d insisted—that the real reason Matt didn’t want to talk was because he was trying to blame Carlyle Construction for the accident. He’d assured her that he’d never have told her what was going on if Matt hadn’t betrayed him. As it was, he couldn’t let her think the worst of her father when it wasn’t his fault.

Unfortunately, it had been another week before Matt had returned from New York. He’d told Joanna when he expected to return, but that was all, and she hadn’t wanted to discuss her father’s affairs over the phone when she hadn’t known who might be listening. Matt had apologised for not being in touch, but he’d said he’d explain everything when he saw her. He’d finished by telling her he loved her, and not to discuss the accident with anyone until he got back.

When he had got back, she hadn’t waited before confronting him with what her father had said. She’d been terribly upset, of course, and in hindsight she should have been more willing to listen to Matt’s side of the argument. But her father had been dying, and she couldn’t bear to let Angus go on thinking that Matt was blaming him for what had happened.

Matt had been taken aback by her accusations. His revelation that her father had been cutting corners for years, that, prior to the takeover, Carlyle Construction had been struggling because her father had been spending money he didn’t have, had stunned her. Matt had also claimed that Angus was simply trying to pre-empt the inevitable investigation into the accident that he knew would prove him guilty. But Angus had been unaware that, in an effort to save her father’s reputation, Matt had already briefed the board that NovCo would be accepting all liability for the fire.

However, when she’d told her father what Matt had said, Angus Carlyle had burst into tears. She’d thought at first it was gratitude, but, with his eyes streaming, he’d claimed that, far from protecting him, Matt was deceiving her, too. Angus had friends in New York, he’d said, friends who’d already told him that his name was toxic in the oil-producing community. The authorities were already investigating Carlyle Construction’s involvement and it was only a matter of time before NovCo shifted the blame.

His final plea had been that she was his daughter. Whatever differences they’d had in the past, their love for one another had never faltered. And Joanna had known she couldn’t deny the words of a man who was suffering with terminal cancer. Particularly as she’d always suspected how determined to protect the company’s interests Matt could be.

There’d been a huge row with Matt telling her she had no idea what her father was capable of, and Joanna accusing him of using Angus as a way to save NovCo’s reputation. Then she’d stormed out of their apartment, declaring she never wanted to speak to him again.

Learning, weeks later, that NovCo had, in fact, settled all claims against the company had been little compensation. As far as her father had been concerned, Matt had been trying to save his marriage, and had realised he’d made a terrible mistake by accusing him. Angus had even challenged her to ask Matt to explain why he’d hacked into her father’s emails, if it wasn’t to create a record of phony deals with risky suppliers he was supposed to have made.

She’d phoned Matt but he’d denied it, of course, although he hadn’t been able to deny that he had had Angus’s financial dealings investigated. But when Joanna had asked him why, he’d refused to answer her. He’d told her to ask her father that question; to put the old man on the spot.

However, Angus had had a relapse, and Joanna hadn’t been able to talk to him. And by the time he was in a temporary remission, Matt had been called back to New York.

The weeks of their separation had turned into months. Her father’s death had left her devastated, and she couldn’t help blaming Matt for ruining the last weeks of his life. David Bellamy had been a hero, helping to organise the funeral for her and offering her her old job back. A situation she’d been glad to accept when she’d discovered her father had been practically destitute when he died.

Turning from the mirror, she went into the bedroom and tried to distract herself by admiring the beauty of her surroundings. Pale walls, pale rugs, and a pale satin bedspread on the wide colonial bed. The colour in the bedroom was provided by exotically patterned cushions and curtains. Paintings of Indian masks and other spiritual objects on the walls were meant to remind the visitor of the area’s Native American heritage.

The house was two-storey, stuccoed, with a red-tiled roof and grounds spread over a couple of acres at the end of a gated cul-de-sac. The whole area was criss-crossed by canals, where just occasionally you might glimpse a manatee. The drive leading up to Matt’s parents’ house ended beside a mission-style Spanish fountain. The steady splash of water on the mossy layers of stone was always present, creating a soothing retreat from the busy world outside.

Joanna had been here before, visiting his parents on a couple of occasions. Though remembering Adrienne’s attitude towards her then, she hadn’t been sorry to avoid them in recent months.

All the same, the suite Adrienne had reluctantly provided for her use was very appealing. It was all very civilised; very inviting. Nevertheless, Joanna knew that without Adrienne’s intrusion she’d have told Matt immediately what she wanted and hightailed it back to the hotel. That had been the plan, anyway. The only thing was, after learning how he still felt about her, she doubted he’d have been willing to grant her request.

She had to come up with a Plan B. Tomorrow afternoon, she’d intended to fly back to London. The trouble was, by giving in to his request to stay for dinner, she didn’t have time to devise an alternative plan.

A faint draught of warm air drifted in through the open windows. Ivory sheers shifted sensuously, and Joanna moved the curtains aside to slide back the long French doors.

Stepping out onto her own private balcony, she breathed in the exotic scents from the garden. Lilies, fuchsias, the heady scent of night jasmine. The humidity was great, as it always was at this time of the year. Early summer in England was not the most appealing time to come to Florida.

Perhaps she should just cut her losses and leave.

The arrival of a maid to tell her drinks were being served in the family room downstairs baulked that possibility. This was it, she thought. Fight or flight? Well, she’d never been a coward, and surely nothing Adrienne Novak said could hurt her now.

As she walked along the landing to the curving marble staircase she saw no one. Below, the marble-tiled foyer was deserted, too. The family room was to her right, a comfortable space, with leather chairs and sofas. A drinks cabinet offered refreshment, and an elegant baby grand piano stood beside the windows at the other side of the room.

When Joanna paused in the doorway, she could smell the flowers that filled the tiled hearth, and the not unpleasant aromas of alcohol and tobacco. But the room itself appeared to be unoccupied as well.

Like the foyer, the lighting was mellow and subdued, and it wasn’t surprising that Joanna thought she was alone. But then a figure emerged from the shadows beside the fireplace. A tall figure, lean and saturnine, in a suit and shirt so dark a grey they appeared black.

Matt.

CHAPTER THREE

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?’

CHAPTER FOUR

‘I HAVE NOT asked Joanna for a divorce,’ Matt responded harshly. ‘Not that it’s any business of yours, Sophie. Joanna’s reasons for being here are not your concern.’

Joanna looked sympathetically at the other girl. ‘It’s me who wants the divorce,’ Joanna said now, ignoring the others. ‘It’s hardly a secret,’ she added, giving Matt a defiant look. ‘But thanks for the support.’

‘Nevertheless, it is not something to be gossiped about within the hearing of servants,’ retorted Adrienne coldly, but now that Sophie had broken the ice, Joanna could stay silent no longer.

‘I suggest it’s not up to you to decide,’ she declared curtly, addressing her mother-in-law. ‘Or has reading my husband’s emails persuaded you that you should have the final word?’

‘If I had you would not be here!’ retorted Adrienne at once, but when she looked to her son again, maybe in the hope of his endorsement, it seemed Matt had had enough.

Ignoring all of them, he got up from the table to pour himself another soda, and Joanna couldn’t decide whether he was being deliberately rude or simply indifferent.

‘Well, I won’t intrude on your family any longer,’ she declared stiffly, addressing herself to Adrienne as Matt didn’t return to the table. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I need to use the bathroom.’

She’d barely eaten a thing, but she felt sick anyway. A green salad, rich with herbs and sprinkled with parmesan, had been followed by a seafood ravioli that should have melted in her mouth. But all Joanna had been able to think about was how soon this agony would be over. She’d already decided to hand any further negotiations over to the London solicitors, and go back to London on the first available plane.

She left the room without another word, aware that both women were expecting Matt to stop her. But he didn’t, although she was sure his eyes followed her progress. With a feeling of relief, she hurried across the foyer and ran up the stairs.

By the time she reached the suite, Joanna’s legs were shaky. Her mobile phone was in her bag and she intended to call a taxi to take her back to the hotel immediately. Matt could deal with the fallout, if there was any. He was very good at that.

Someone had been in the room in her absence. The bed had been turned down, and she wondered who had thought she might be staying the night. Matt, perhaps, she decided tightly. He was very good at ignoring her feelings, too.

After glancing a little tensely around the room, she headed for the bathroom. Despite refusing the dessert, she still felt decidedly unwell. Too many glasses of wine, she thought, peering at her face in the mirror. She only hoped she could get back to the hotel without throwing up.

She was leaning on the hand basin, with her eyes closed, when someone spoke.

‘Are you all right?’

Her eyes shot open in alarm. Matt was leaning against the open door of the bathroom, a look of mild concern on his lean dark face. A face she’d once loved, she thought, hating herself for the memory. Had that face betrayed her and her father without a second thought?

Matt had shed his jacket and tie and now the cuffs of his shirt were turned back over lean brown forearms lightly spread with dark hair. Despite her anger at him, she felt her stomach quiver at the unwelcome acknowledgement of his magnetism. Whatever she did, however she felt, she couldn’t deny her unwilling response to his sexual appeal.

But this wouldn’t do. Schooling her features, she said, ‘What are you doing here? I don’t recall inviting you in.’

Matt shrugged his broad shoulders, muscles moving sinuously beneath the fine silk of his dark shirt. ‘You didn’t,’ he agreed, and then was forced to step aside as she brushed past him to get into the bedroom. ‘Still better in health than temper, I see.’

Joanna pursed her lips. ‘Don’t make fun of me.’

‘Believe it or not, I was concerned about you.’ Matt tucked his hands beneath his arms to quell the urge he had to reach out to her. He surveyed her closely. ‘Are you sure you’re all right? You looked very pale when you left the dining room.’

‘I didn’t think you’d noticed.’

‘I noticed.’

Joanna knew a feeling of defeat. She was never going to win where Matt was concerned. All the same, if she’d suspected he might follow her, she’d have wedged the back of a chair under the handle of the door rather than face another argument.

‘Why don’t you leave me alone?’ she asked wearily, refusing to give in to the tears that were threatening to complete her humiliation. ‘I’ve ordered a taxi.’

Matt blew out a breath. ‘You haven’t had time,’ he stated flatly. He paused. ‘You insist on going back to the hotel, then?’

‘Of course. I’m not welcome here.’

‘I want you to stay.’

‘Yes, I know what you want. But this is your mother’s house and I don’t intend to stay here any longer than it takes for a taxi to come and pick me up.’

‘It’s my father’s house, but we won’t quibble about ownership.’ He paused. ‘Please. Cancel the room at the hotel and stay. We need to talk.’

‘We have talked, Matt.’

‘Not enough.’ His brows drew together. ‘Are you afraid of me, Jo?’

Joanna’s lips parted. ‘No,’ she said defiantly, although she was. Afraid of her own vulnerability where he was concerned at least.

‘Yet you insist on running out on me. Again.’

Joanna caught her breath. ‘All right,’ she said, knowing she’d regret the words as soon as they were spoken. ‘We’ll talk tomorrow. Come to the hotel in the morning, and we’ll have breakfast together. Okay?’

* * *

Half an hour later, Joanna stared out of the window of the sleek Mercedes saloon Matt was driving, amazed at how quiet the streets were at this hour of the evening. But she could hear music thumping from a boom box somewhere and the unmistakeable sound of laughter that seemed to be coming from the roofs of the hotels and apartment buildings they passed.

Not that she was truly interested in the parties being held in high rises and condominiums alike, or the brilliantly illuminated stretches of open parkland on Biscayne Boulevard. It was simply better than acknowledging that once again Matt had got his way.

She should have known he wouldn’t let her get away that easily, and she hadn’t argued when Matt had told her he would be driving her back to her hotel. Besides, in all honesty, she was glad to be with someone she knew; even her husband. Just in case she did want to throw up.

He’d been waiting for her when she’d come downstairs. Sophie had been with him, and for once her sister-in-law had had little to say. ‘I hope we see you soon,’ she’d murmured as they’d stepped out into the humid evening air. ‘Don’t blame Matt for my mother’s behaviour, will you? She’s always been ridiculously possessive of her only son.’

As if Joanna didn’t know that.

It didn’t take long to reach Miami Beach. Matt drove over one of the causeways that separated the Beach from Miami proper and then cruised along Collins Avenue to where the Corcovado Hotel occupied a prime spot overlooking the ocean.

The grounds were spectacular. Acres of palm-strewn patios, outdoor cafés and bars, even an Olympic-size swimming pool, floodlit and busy with holidaymakers.

The humidity seemed more intense when Joanna stepped out of the car. Matt had brought the Mercedes to a halt under the awning by the entrance to the hotel, and Joanna didn’t waste any time before hurrying towards the automatic doors.

Her casual ‘See you tomorrow’ should have sealed the deal. But the doors had hardly closed behind her before she became aware that someone else was on her heels.

Glancing round, she wasn’t surprised to find it was Matt, but that didn’t stop her from feeling a surge of resentment at his persistence. ‘What do you want now?’ she demanded, feeling the heat rising up her face at the knowledge that their conversation could be clearly overheard by other guests. ‘I’ve said I’ll see you in the morning and I will.’

Matt’s dark brows arched impatiently. ‘Did you think I wouldn’t escort you to your room?’

‘I don’t need an escort,’ she said, aware that two women, waiting at the check-in desk, were keeping a surreptitious eye on both of them. But most particularly on Matt.

And why not? she thought irritably. Without his jacket, his shirt half unbuttoned because of the heat, he looked far more at home in these luxurious surroundings than she did. Tall and lean, with a touch of the café-au-lait skin tone of some distant ancestor, he was perfectly in control of himself and of the situation, she thought.

Joanna tried to avoid looking at him, but it was difficult. Her eyes were irresistibly drawn to the open neckline of his shirt, to the triangle of dark hair visible on his chest. His lips had parted enquiringly, and Joanna felt her instinctive response. They were thin lips, hard and masculine, and Joanna knew they could be both tenderly soft and brutally cruel.

She swallowed. He wasn’t moving and she really didn’t need this. ‘Okay,’ she said, fumbling in her bag for the booking information she’d downloaded to her phone. ‘You can see me to the lift. But that’s all.’

It was only as she studied the phone that she remembered she had still to check in. Learning that Matt had been seriously ill and giving in to Sophie’s invitation to drive to the villa, she hadn’t confirmed the booking or paid the deposit required, which she’d promised to do as soon as she left the airport. Such trivial details had gone completely out of her head.

What if they’d given her room to someone else?

Damn!

Taking a breath, she turned to him and said, ‘I’ve not checked in yet.’ She hesitated. ‘There’s a queue, and there’s really no need for you to stay.’

Matt felt the kind of tension he hadn’t felt since they were last together. The muscles in his stomach clenched as he said, ‘You’re sure you have a room here?’

‘As sure as I can be.’ Joanna didn’t want to face the alternative. ‘I phoned the hotel from the airport.’

Matt’s dark eyes narrowed. ‘From the airport?’ he echoed incredulously.

Joanna straightened her spine. ‘Look, when I left New York, I didn’t know if you were staying in Miami. All I knew was that I wouldn’t have time to hire a car and drive out to Coral Gables and back in a couple of hours. I was going to phone you, but I needed somewhere to stay, and I remembered—well, I remembered we’d stayed here before.’

‘So we did.’ Matt’s eyes darkened. ‘I’m flattered you recall our visits.’

‘Don’t be sarcastic.’ Joanna sighed. ‘I suppose I had thoughts of asking you to join me here for dinner.’

‘To talk, I assume,’ he remarked, still somewhat sarcastically, and Joanna’s lips tightened.

‘I thought that was what you wanted.’

Matt lifted his shoulders dismissively. ‘And Sophie changed your mind?’

‘Well, yes.’ Joanna took another steadying breath. ‘She told me you’d been ill and—and I was concerned.’

‘How sweet!’

Matt gave a mocking laugh and rocked back on the heels of his suede loafers. That was the last thing he’d expected her to say.

Joanna resented his reaction. ‘I’d be concerned about anyone in similar circumstances,’ she declared, avoiding the lazy beauty of his eyes. ‘Just because I felt sorry for you—’

Matt grimaced then. ‘I don’t need anyone to feel sorry for me,’ he told her shortly. ‘I’ve had a surfeit of that already.’

Clicking her tongue impatiently, she stepped up to the end of the line. ‘Why don’t you just go, Matt?’ she demanded, glancing about her. ‘You’re just wasting your time here.’

‘I wouldn’t say that,’ he countered, and Joanna gave him an exasperated look.

‘All right, then,’ she said tightly, turning her back on him. ‘But you’re going to have to wait. I haven’t even registered yet.’

‘So you said.’

Matt sounded thoughtful, but after a few moments she heard the unmistakeable sound of him walking away. Oh, well, she thought, telling herself she was relieved. It was what she’d wanted. She wouldn’t have liked him leaning over her shoulder while she filled in the forms.

When someone touched her arm a few moments later, she swung round, firmly believing Matt had decided to return. But instead it was someone called George Szudek. The Hotel Manager, or so it said on the badge he was wearing on his lapel.

He was a stocky individual, with a bald head and a full beard and moustache. He greeted her with a smile and gently urged her across the lobby to the open door of his office.

‘Mrs Novak,’ he said politely, guiding her into the room. ‘I believe I can be of some assistance to you and your husband.’

CHAPTER FIVE

JOANNA REALISED SHE should have anticipated something like this when Matt disappeared. Because, of course, her husband had been waiting for them in the manager’s office.

Matt had been standing by the windows, looking out on the manicured golf course at this side of the hotel. His hands were thrust into the pockets of his pants, his shoulders broad beneath the heat-dampened silk of his shirt.

And despite herself, Joanna felt a pang, not unlike the pang she’d felt when Matt and his father had first walked into the Bellamy Gallery all those years ago.

David had been hosting another of those evenings for new artists, and apparently one of his flyers had found its way into the lobby of the Novaks’ hotel. Matt had told her his father had persuaded him to come; light relief after a day of boardroom politics. But he’d told Joanna that as soon as he’d seen her he’d been very glad he had...

* * *

Joanna looked round the gallery with a feeling of pride. The place was full, patrons and visitors milling about, helping themselves to a glass of wine or a canapé, offering silent and not so silent opinions of the paintings on display.

And she’d arranged it all, she thought with pride. She’d sent out the invitations, arranged for flyers to be placed in hotel lobbies, made the event sound so attractive that any visitor to the capital might be intrigued by its originality.

The young artist they were showcasing, Damon Ford, was a minor celebrity in his own right after winning a gold medal in athletics at the last Olympics.