‘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