An Heir Made In The Marriage Bed
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‘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.