Matt was standing watching her. He had his arms folded, legs apart, his narrow-fitting shorts moulding his powerful thighs. Why did he have to look so damn sexy? she wondered, sliding her bare feet to the floor. It was becoming harder and harder to remember that this was the man who had ruined the last months of her father’s life.
She straightened up, and as she did so something brushed by her ankle. She managed to stifle the scream that rose in her throat, but she couldn’t prevent herself from rushing headlong towards the door.
She certainly hadn’t intended to touch Matt. She just wanted to get away from the bed. But when he put out his hand to stop her reckless flight, she didn’t think before wrapping her arms about his waist and cuddling close to him.
Apart from anything else, her panic had robbed her of any resistance. ‘What—what was that?’ she choked, her face pressed to the muscled hardness of his chest. Her hands spread against his back, accidentally connecting with the wedge of flesh exposed when he’d bent down and his tee had separated from his shorts. Struggling to ignore the smooth dampness of his skin beneath her fingers, she said hurriedly, ‘I felt something touch my ankle. Was it the—the hutia?’
‘Probably,’ said Matt stiffly, aware that it was only the swell of her pregnancy that was keeping her from feeling his instant arousal. Dammit, he had to stay away from her or God knew what he might be tempted to do. With his tone flattening, he responded, ‘It’s gone now, anyway. You can let me go.’
But Joanna didn’t want to let him go. With her lungs filled with the sensual heat of his body, it was difficult to think coherently about anything. She fought valiantly for breath before saying, ‘Where—where do you think it went?’
‘I have no idea.’ Matt sighed, his hands closing on her trembling shoulders. The fabric of the shirt was so thin that he could feel the dampness of her skin through the cloth, but he forced himself to ignore the intimacy of the moment. ‘I imagine it’s found its way out of here.’
She swallowed. ‘You don’t think it could have gone into the bathroom?’
‘I don’t think it was heading in that direction, no.’ Matt stepped back. Then, belatedly, he seemed to remember her condition, his eyes lowering to her stomach, bringing another wave of heat over her body. ‘You’re okay, aren’t you? You didn’t hurt yourself?’ He paused. ‘Or the baby?’
‘I don’t think so.’
She ran an exploring hand over her bump and felt the reassuring thrust of a foot against her palm. She smiled, relieved that the baby was active again, and saw the way Matt’s expression had changed to one of concern.
‘You’re sure?’
‘I’m sure.’ She hesitated. ‘Would you like to feel him?’
Matt’s pulse quickened in spite of himself. ‘I—well, sure,’ he said half unwillingly, and she took his hand and laid it against the rounded curve of her stomach.
Almost immediately, he felt a powerful little kick against his hand, and he pulled away with a grunt of protest. ‘Strong, isn’t he?’ Joanna asked, smiling again. ‘How would you like to feel that in the early hours of the morning?’
Matt shook his head. ‘I can’t imagine.’
But he could, actually. It was amazingly easy to anticipate lying beside Joanna and sharing the intimacies of the pregnancy. Comforting her when the baby’s activities kept her awake, holding her in his arms until she and the baby went back to sleep.
Yet that was exactly the opposite of what he should be thinking, he reminded himself irritably. ‘Why don’t you get dressed and put a couple of things in a bag?’ he added shortly, moving towards the door. ‘When Henry gets back, we’ll be leaving.’
‘Okay.’ Joanna cast a nervous glance towards the bathroom. ‘You’re sure it’s gone?’
‘I’m sure,’ said Matt, his patience shredding. ‘Henry probably left the door open when he left and it will have made its escape.’
Joanna’s lips tightened, seeking a defence. ‘I could say it’s your fault for making me come here,’ she retaliated, hating the fact that right now she needed him more than he needed her. ‘I should have stayed in England, with my mother and Lionel.’
‘Let’s not start that again,’ said Matt wearily, glancing about the room and noticing the pair of drawstring trousers on the chair. ‘Here.’ He handed them to her. ‘Do you have a shirt you can wear?’
Joanna took the trousers out of his hands. ‘I expect so,’ she said, stopping briefly to take a silky patterned smock from the open suitcase lying on the ottoman at the foot of the bed. She walked swiftly into the bathroom. ‘I won’t be long.’
SURPRISINGLY, AFTER ALL the upset, Joanna slept soundly. The baby kicked a couple more times, but even he didn’t disturb her for long. She was exhausted after the journey. Not to mention the stress of the very real fear she’d suffered over last evening’s intruder.
The bedroom Teresa had prepared for her was cool and comfortable, and she’d fallen asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow. Of course, although she wouldn’t admit it, knowing that Matt was just down the hall made all the difference.
She woke fairly early the next morning. She went into the adjoining bathroom first and took a shower, and then, after finding a bottle of water on her bedside table, she took a welcome drink before opening the door onto her veranda.
As she stepped outside, the heat was the first thing she noticed. She’d wrapped one of the enormous bath towels around her, but the atmosphere soon brought a sheen of dampness to her skin. She wondered if Matt would allow her to go swimming. The idea of silky smooth water washing over her overheated body was very appealing.
She’d swim in the ocean, of course. Attractive though the pool at the villa might be, she’d insisted on her independence.
But, after considering how she’d look in the only swimsuit she’d brought with her, she decided she’d save her dip for another day.
After another drink of the slightly warm water, she went back into her room, appreciating the coolness of conditioned air. She looked about her, admiring the stripped pine floor and silk-hung walls of the bedroom. As well as the large bed, there was a cosy sitting area with two armchairs and a circular table.
And no unwelcome visitors.
A rummage through the few garments she’d brought from the cottage turned up a pair of drawstring shorts. She frowned as she looked at them. Everything had to be elasticated or drawstring these days, she thought resignedly. It seemed such a long time since she’d been able to wear anything remotely attractive—or sexy.
It had certainly been a blow to her ego when Matt had pushed her away from him the night before. For a few moments, when he’d let her wrap her arms around him, she’d actually felt he cared about her. And he’d been so sweet when he’d put his hand on her stomach to feel the baby. But then he’d seemed to come to his senses with a vengeance.
Still, it was probably all to the good, she told herself firmly. Look where one reckless night in Miami had got her.
* * *
Matt strode down the path to where his boat was moored with a feeling of frustration. He hadn’t slept well after the uproar over the damn hutia, and, although he’d taken a cold shower, he couldn’t get the remembrance of Joanna’s warm body, pressed against his own, out of his mind.
It was the early hours before exhaustion had claimed him, and in consequence it was now after seven