by Anne Mather
‘Is that so?’ Matt flicked open the phone, punched one of the keys and then spoke into the mouthpiece. ‘Now, Jack,’ he said without preamble, and closed the phone again.
Joanna’s shoulders sagged. ‘Look, I know this meeting hasn’t been very satisfactory—’ she began, and Matt gave her an ironic look.
‘You think?’
‘But it’s a bit early to be discussing what’s going to happen after the baby’s born.’ She paused. ‘Don’t you think?’
‘Dear Lord, I’m still getting used to the idea that you’re having a baby,’ said Matt harshly. ‘And now I hear you’re having it in less than three months.’ He shook his head. ‘I want to know everything about it. And that definitely includes where the baby is born.’
Joanna sighed. She was getting wet and, with an effort, she pulled her arm away.
‘Come on, Joanna.’ There was no humour in his voice. ‘I’m not leaving here without you. We can go to your apartment, or my hotel. It’s up to you.’
Joanna bit her lip, and then, shrugging her shoulders, she allowed him to help her into the back of the limousine that cruised to a stop beside them. There was no point in quarrelling with Matt. Not when she had no defence.
‘Your apartment?’ suggested Matt, sliding in beside her, and she was immediately made aware of his masculinity.
The mixture of aftershave and the clean male smell of his body drifted over her. This was why she’d wished she’d brought her own car. In the confines of the back seat of the limousine, Matt was far too close for comfort. Far too close for her shattered nerves to ignore.
Aware that he was waiting for her response, she glanced at him out of the corners of her eyes. ‘No. Your hotel,’ she said firmly, guessing he would not be expecting that. ‘Is it still the Savoy? We can have afternoon tea in the foyer.’
Matt’s mouth compressed. ‘I’m staying at a small hotel in Knightsbridge, actually,’ he responded after a moment. ‘But we can have afternoon tea in my suite, if you like.’
Afternoon tea in his suite!
Not likely.
Joanna’s lips parted. ‘I—well, perhaps you’d better come to the apartment, then,’ she said, as he’d probably anticipated she would. ‘But the place is a mess. I’ve been sorting things out for the past couple of weeks and there are boxes everywhere.’
Matt shrugged and leant forward to give Jack Dougherty his instructions. Then there was an oppressive silence until the chauffeur drew into the grounds of Colgate Court.
The place looked even less attractive in the rain, Matt thought morosely as he followed Joanna into the building. But at least there was no grim-faced caretaker waiting to block their way.
She hadn’t been exaggerating about the state of the apartment. There were suitcases in the foyer and clothes and books all over the living-room floor. Which was another source of irritation. If Matt had delayed his trip to London, she might well have left this address. Would he have guessed where she’d gone, or might he have had to go to the gallery and tackle Bellamy? Not a prospect he’d have viewed with any degree of enthusiasm before today, he admitted wryly.
Matt’s hands curled into fists in his pockets. Thank God, she was leaving here anyway. The room was cold, and he guessed she’d turned off the heating while she was at work. Why did she insist on economising when she had a healthy bank balance? It was ridiculous, and he was feeling bloody frustrated by the whole affair.
‘Do you want some tea?’
Tea?
No, Matt didn’t want any tea. He wouldn’t have said no to a glass of whisky, but he doubted Joanna kept anything like that here.
Joanna had shed her coat and was presently filling the kettle at the small sink. Matt’s eyes were irresistibly drawn to her body but he shook his head impatiently and looked away.
There was little to see beyond the windows as he’d observed the last time he was here. This whole place was a dump, he thought, uncharitably. And possibly damp, too. He was glad Joanna wasn’t planning on having the baby here, even if the prospect of her moving to Cornwall was only slightly less acceptable.
‘I don’t have any coffee to offer you,’ Joanna was continuing, and, turning towards her, Matt noticed that the hand taking a cup from one of the virtually empty cupboards beside her was shaking.
It was difficult for him not to feel sympathetic towards her then. This was the woman he had loved for over six years. He didn’t want to have any feelings for her but, whether it was just a physical thing or not, his body was humming with an unwelcome awareness of her nearness.
He swore, forcing such thoughts aside. He had to concentrate on the present and what he was going to do now.
While the kettle boiled, Joanna came into the living area and gestured towards the easy chair beside the windows. ‘Why don’t you sit down? I won’t be a minute.’
Matt frowned. ‘Why? Where are you going?’
Joanna made an embarrassed gesture. ‘I’m going to the bathroom,’ she said awkwardly. ‘It’s a hazard of my condition, I’m afraid.’
‘Ah.’
Matt acknowledged the problem and Joanna hurried out of the room. But when she returned, he was still standing in the middle of the floor, and although he’d loosened his leather coat, it still hung damply from his shoulders.
There were drops of rain sparkling on his dark hair, and she recalled how she used to grip handfuls of his hair when he was making love to her. She remembered winding her legs about his hips, emitting muffled cries of satisfaction every time she reached another climax. And then, lying indolently beneath him, content to feel him inside her, prolonging the visceral connection for as long as she possibly could.
Oh, God!
Joanna stifled a groan, wondering when she was going to stop having these—what? Erotic thoughts about Matt? She could blame it on the pregnancy, but she had the feeling that they weren’t going to go away any time soon.
The kettle had boiled in her absence, and as she crossed the room she was intensely conscious of Matt’s eyes assessing her appearance. Desperate to distract him, she asked again if he would like a cup of tea, anything to make this situation less fraught than it seemed, but Matt merely shook his head.
‘No, thanks,’ he said, crossing the living room towards her. He paused in the entry to the kitchen annexe, successfully blocking her exit. ‘Is there any chance that you could just sit down and talk to me?’
‘Oh—sure.’
Joanna managed a quick acknowledgement, adding hot water to the teabag she’d placed in her cup. She opened the fridge and took a carton of milk from the door. Then, when Matt was on the point of demanding that she stop fussing around, she added a little milk to her cup and came towards him.
‘Excuse me,’ she said, indicating that he was in her way, and Matt gritted his teeth and moved aside.
Joanna carried her cup over to the sofa, and seated herself on the edge of the cushions. Then, cradling the hot cup between her icy palms, she said, ‘You should sit down, too.’
Matt dragged one of the dining chairs over to the sofa and, swinging it around, he straddled it, facing her. He’d had time to think about what he was going to say, and Joanna was slightly disturbed by his grim expression.
He was ominously silent for a moment. And then, he said quietly, ‘I don’t want you to spend the rest of your pregnancy in Padsworth.’
Joanna was taken aback. She’d half expected him to join her on the sofa, but he hadn’t. This was a very different Matt from the man she’d slept with in Miami, she thought uneasily.
Gathering her small store of composure, Joanna sipped her tea, to avoid meeting those intent dark eyes. ‘Well, I don’t want to stay here,’ she said at last.
Matt considered her flushed face with some impatience. ‘I don’t want you to stay here either.’
‘So you understand why I’m going to Cornwall?’
‘I understand you thought it was your only option,’ Matt agreed tersely. ‘If you’d told me the truth from the beginning, we wouldn’t be having this discussion. I’d have offered you an alternative.’
‘What alternative?’ Joanna still had some pride. ‘I don’t need your support, Matt.’
‘Maybe not, but you’re going to get it,’ he retorted. He controlled his temper with an effort. ‘God, I still can’t believe you kept this from me for so long.’
‘Must we go over that again?’ Joanna sighed. ‘There was always the possibility that you might deny the child was yours.’
‘You think?’
‘All right.’ She lifted a careless hand. ‘I don’t think you would have done that. I’m sorry. I should have told you.’ She paused. ‘Are you happy now?’
Matt’s jaw hardened. ‘Where do you plan to have this baby?’ His voice was tense. ‘I don’t want you going into labour in some remote village in Cornwall. There’s no maternity hospital in the village, I know that, and it’s the middle of winter. If anything goes wrong, how long before you can get expert help?’
‘Why would you think that anything might go wrong?’
‘Joanna, we’ve been trying to have a baby for a few years now. Do you want to take the chance that there might be a complication?’
‘Well, it won’t be the middle of winter when I have the baby,’ she replied reasonably. ‘And nothing’s going to go wrong.’ She crossed her fingers superstitiously. ‘You always think the worst, don’t you?’
‘I wonder why,’ murmured Matt drily, but she heard the bitterness in his voice.
‘In any case, there’s a maternity unit in Padsworth—’
‘A unit.’ The way Matt said the words told her what he thought of that.
‘And there’s a large teaching hospital in the next town,’ she continued staunchly.
‘Which is what? Fifteen miles away? Twenty? On roads that are hardly freeways?’ Matt stifled a curse. ‘What if there’s a late snowfall? Those narrow roads get blocked, you know that. Think what you’re committing yourself to, Joanna. Much as I like your mother, she’s no Florence Nightingale.’
‘So what are you suggesting? That I stay in London where I can be sure of reaching a hospital that you’d consider satisfactory if there was an emergency?’
‘No.’
Matt got up from the chair and pushed his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. It put her eyes on a level with his lower body and she bent her head, trying not to think about the hard muscles that stretched his tight jeans. Or imagine how he’d looked when he was naked. She dragged her eyes away. She needed to get a grip on her emotions, not focus on what she remembered of his lean powerful body.
Matt, apparently unaware of her distraction, spoke tersely. ‘I’m suggesting you come back to Cable Cay with me.’ He rocked back on the heels of his boots and continued, ‘There’s a small house in the grounds at Long Point. A couple of bedrooms, one and a half baths. You would be perfectly comfortable there with your own staff.’
‘You can’t be serious!’
‘Oh, I am.’ Matt had never been more serious in his life. ‘There’s no large hospital on the island, I give you that. But I can put the helicopter I use on standby for an emergency. And there are at least three major hospitals in Nassau, half an hour away, catering to everything from insect bites to heart surgery.’
Joanna shook her head. ‘But I don’t want to go to the Bahamas,’ she protested. She got to her feet. ‘I’ve met the doctor in Padsworth. He knows my mother very well.’
‘It’s not your mother he’ll be dealing with.’ Matt shrugged. ‘Besides, I don’t think it’s your decision. You owe me, Joanna. I may not have been around for most of the pregnancy, but I think I deserve to be there at my son’s birth, don’t you?’
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
JOANNA ASSURED HERSELF she wasn’t disappointed that Matt hadn’t come to meet her in Nassau. She’d taken the flight directly from London to the Bahamas and been met by Matt’s helicopter pilot, Jacob Mallister, instead. He’d flown her on to Cable West, the small airport that catered to Cable Cay’s commercial and personal needs, where Henry Powell, Matt’s steward, was waiting to greet her.
It was good to see a familiar face. She’d met the old man before on the two occasions she and Matt had holidayed at the villa. ‘Hey, there, Mrs Novak,’ he exclaimed, his dark features beaming as he gave her a hand to negotiate the steps down from the aircraft. ‘Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?’
‘A sight, certainly,’ agreed Joanna drily, glad to be on solid ground again. She didn’t like helicopters. They tended to dip and sway quite alarmingly, and even the short trip from New Providence had left her feeling slightly sick. The thought of having to do that journey again, when she was in labour, filled her with a sense of alarm.
‘Well, welcome to Cable Cay,’ declared Henry cheerfully. ‘Did you have a good journey?’
‘It was fine.’ Joanna didn’t mention the helicopter ride. ‘But I’m glad it’s over.’
‘I’m sure you’ll feel better once you’ve had a good night’s rest,’ he said, taking charge of her cases. ‘I know Mr Matt will be glad you’re here safely.’
Joanna made no comment to this. She doubted Matt would care, one way or the other. He’d given her an ultimatum: let him play a part in the remaining weeks of her pregnancy—which he regarded as only fair—or face the prospect of him petitioning for custody of the child after he was born.
She didn’t know whether Matt would have done such a thing, but she decided not to take the risk. And after all, surely it was no hardship to spend weeks being pampered by servants on a semi-tropical island in the sun.
Now, looking about her, she had to admit that she’d forgotten how picturesque the island was. The view, even this late in the evening, was so beautiful, and, in spite of everything, she had to smile.
The sunset was just gilding the palms that edged the runway, and the heat was very welcome after the rains of January back home. She was glad now that Matt had sent the helicopter. The ferry ride from Nassau would have taken the better part of two hours, and it would have been dark before she arrived.
In the distance, she could see a beach, with the ocean creaming softly on the shoreline. A cool breeze blew in from the water, and she breathed deeply as she gazed towards the horizon. The sea might look dark now, and even a little threatening, she remembered, but when the sun rose in the morning, it would be a delight in shades of pink and green and gold.
‘It is good to see you again,’ Henry continued, stowing her luggage in the back of a gleaming SUV. ‘I think Mr Matt’s been a little lonely since he moved here. But if you don’t mind me saying so, you’re looking a little pale, Mrs Novak. Maybe a dose of our hot Bahamian sunshine is exactly what you need, eh?’
‘You could be right,’ said Joanna, realising she actually was glad to be here at last. ‘How are you and Teresa these days? I thought you might have retired by now.’
‘Oh, no. We’re not ready for retirement, Mrs Novak,’ he assured her, making sure her suitcases were safely installed. He lifted her father’s old laptop, which she’d brought with her. ‘Will this be okay in the back?’
‘Oh, yes.’ Joanna nodded. ‘It’s just an old machine that used to belong to my father, but I’ve brought some work from home, and I thought it might be useful to keep in touch with my family as well.’
‘Work?’ Henry pulled a face.
‘I run a website,’ Joanna explained. ‘Didn’t Matt tell you, I have shares in an art gallery in London? My partner is keen for me to keep my hand in.’
‘Mr Matt probably forgot,’ said Henry cheerfully. ‘And it’s good to keep in touch with family, too. But Mr Matt’s parents don’t come here like th
ey used to when the children were small.’
Joanna couldn’t deny a sense of relief at these words, but she guessed that since Oliver had had his second stroke, he didn’t travel as much. It hopefully meant she wouldn’t have to face Matt’s mother. Which could only be a plus.
The journey to the villa didn’t take long. Henry spent most of it regaling her with stories of his grandchildren and asking her if she minded that she was having a boy.
‘Mr Matt told me,’ he added, pulling a wry face. ‘He’s pretty buzzed about the whole thing. I know he can’t wait to meet his son.’
‘Henry—’
‘Oh, I know. You and Mr Matt are divorced. But it seems to me that this baby just might bring you back together.’
Joanna was tempted to say, don’t hold your breath, but Henry was so enthusiastic, she didn’t have the heart. Instead, she endeavoured to concentrate on her surroundings, unable to prevent herself from stiffening when the gates of Long Point came into view.
They had been travelling along the winding coast road, but now Henry turned the car between the gates of the Novaks’ residence. ‘The guesthouse is in the grounds, about a quarter of a mile from the villa,’ Henry explained easily, and she remembered Matt had told her much the same.
As if to prove a point, after passing through the gates, Henry turned the car away from the main building. A twisting track led to where a neat little single-storey dwelling nestled among the trees. ‘Here we are.’
Joanna had half expected that Matt would be waiting to meet her. But the cottage appeared to be deserted, and she told herself she was grateful to have the chance to relax before meeting her host.
Someone had indeed prepared the place for her, however. The rooms smelled fresh and inviting, and a note pinned to the door—not in Matt’s hand, she noticed—informed her that a seafood salad had been prepared and was waiting in the fridge.
