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