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.
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.’
