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An Heir Made in the Marriage Bed by Anne Mather (13)

SO MUCH FOR keeping her plans to herself, thought Joanna resignedly. For heaven’s sake, why couldn’t David have kept his mouth shut?

‘Of course not,’ she said now. ‘I had no idea Matt was in the country until he turned up. Why on earth would you think I’d ask him to do such a thing?’

‘Oh, I don’t know.’ David regarded the other man coldly. ‘As he’s the baby’s father, he probably thinks he has some rights.’

‘I do have some rights.’ Matt regarded him with equal contempt. ‘And now would you mind giving us a little privacy?’

David was belligerent. ‘If Joanna had wanted to see you, she’d have told me.’

‘Would she?’ Matt looked enquiringly at Joanna. ‘She apparently kept the baby’s father’s identity a secret.’

‘Probably because she was ashamed of getting involved with you again,’ retorted David angrily. He turned to Joanna. ‘Would you like me to throw him out?’

‘You’re singularly lacking in imagination if you think you could do such a thing,’ drawled Matt drily. ‘Give it up, Bellamy. This is one occasion when your doubtful talents are not needed.’

‘You can’t speak to me like that.’

‘I think I just did.’

‘Oh, please,’ Joanna said, addressing her remarks to no one in particular. It concerned her that David’s face was much redder now and she was afraid his blood pressure was rising. ‘Can we just calm down?’

Thankfully, her ex-husband chose not to pursue the subject and instead turned to Joanna. ‘Am I to understand that you’re planning to spend the remaining months of your pregnancy in Padsworth?’ he enquired coolly, and Joanna put both hands on the small of her back in an effort to relieve the ache in her spine.

She looked tired, thought Matt, realising that she probably spent a considerable part of the day on her feet. But he was fairly sure she wouldn’t welcome any sympathy.

‘Possibly,’ she said, not wanting to admit it, and David chose that moment to intervene again.

‘You have no part in this, Novak. Why don’t you take the hint and get lost?’

Matt ignored him, and Joanna was grateful. Her ex-husband could be dangerous when crossed, and she wished David would just keep his opinions to himself. It was hard enough dealing with Matt, knowing how he felt about her, without having to cope with the other man’s well-meant interference as well.

Matt had evidently come to the same conclusion. ‘I think we need to talk. Privately,’ he said, echoing her sentiments.

‘We can go to my hotel, if you like, or there’s a coffee bar a couple of blocks down the street that looks okay.’

‘All right,’ she said, avoiding David’s outraged expression. ‘I’ll get my coat.’

‘You don’t have to go with him,’ Bellamy began, following her into the office, and she shook her head.

‘It’s better this way,’ she said, slipping her arms into the sleeves of her heather-coloured tweed duster. ‘And actually, I was thinking of leaving early today. It’s such a horrible afternoon, I doubt anyone else is going to turn up.’

David looked sulky. ‘I wanted to tell you about my lunch with Theo Konstantinos,’ he protested, but Joanna could only shake her head.

‘I’ll hear all about it in the morning,’ she promised, wrapping her coat about her. ‘See you tomorrow.’

* * *

A sleek black chauffeur-driven limousine was idling at the kerb outside, clearly in breach of the No Parking zone that operated outside the gallery.

But Joanna had no desire to get into a car with Matt.

‘It’s just a few yards to the café,’ she said, starting along the pavement. ‘If that’s your driver, I’d advise him to move on. The police are pretty vigilant around here.’

Matt scowled. She was probably right, of course, but it was a bloody awful afternoon. He was used to sunshine, to temperatures in the eighties. Even walking maybe a quarter mile in this downpour seemed crazy.

But abandoning any alterative, he stopped at the car and told his driver he’d call him when he wanted picking up. Then he strode after Joanna, amazed that she was still wearing high heels despite her condition.

The coffee shop was crowded. Joanna guessed that a lot of its customers had come inside to shelter from the rain. In consequence, the only seats available were at the counter, tall stools that she had great difficulty in climbing onto at present.

Matt regarded her doubtfully. ‘Do you need a hand?’ he asked, and she gave him an old-fashioned look.

‘I’m pregnant, Matt. Not senile. It’s better than standing, believe me.’

He did believe her. He wouldn’t have been able to stand in those heels. Sliding onto the stool beside her, he steadied himself with his hand on the counter, and his arm inadvertently brushed against her bump. Through the folds of her coat, her belly felt firmer than he’d imagined; solid. Somehow, he’d expected it to be soft and pliable, but it wasn’t.

He realised he wanted to touch her again, to possibly feel a kick from the little person growing inside her. Dear God, it was his child. That reality put everything else into raw perspective.

Matt ordered a coffee for himself, but Joanna said she would just have a diet soda. ‘Do you want a muffin with that?’ he asked, and she gave a reluctant smile.

‘Don’t you think I look fat enough?’ she countered humorously. ‘No, the soda is fine for me. But if you’re hungry—’

‘I’m not.’ Matt wondered if he’d ever feel hungry again.

‘And you’re not fat,’ he assured her. ‘Just—pregnant, that’s all.’

And how incredible was that? Dear God, it was going to take time to get used to the idea.

Meanwhile, Joanna was wondering if he was as nervous as she was. But, no. Matt Novak didn’t do ‘nervous’. Not in her experience anyway. But his lean face did look a little paler than it had done when he’d first walked into the gallery, and she guessed he hadn’t really believed that she was pregnant until then.

Deciding to take the initiative, she said, ‘So what did Sophie say to bring you to London?’

Matt arched a rueful brow as the waiter brought their drinks. ‘Oh, she asked me if I knew if you were getting married again.’

‘Married?’ Joanna looked puzzled and Matt was relieved.

‘I guess it was the only way she knew to get my interest,’ he said drily. ‘She couldn’t be sure I’d do anything about it, but she took that chance.’

Joanna nodded. ‘Knowing what a control freak you are, I suppose she knew you’d resent me doing anything without your knowledge,’ she remarked, pulling her soda towards her.

‘I’ll ignore that and just say, I was concerned about you,’ he retorted. ‘And I have to admit, the thought that you might be marrying Bellamy wasn’t a good one.’

Joanna sighed. If only he knew. Changing the subject a little, she said, ‘Did Sophie know we’d slept together?’

‘Not initially, no.’

‘But you told her?’

‘She asked,’ said Matt flatly, sprinkling sugar into his coffee.

‘But she didn’t tell you I was pregnant?’

‘No. As I say, Sophie is discreet. Or she can be in certain circumstances.’

‘So your mother doesn’t know you’ve come to England?’

‘Need you ask?’ Matt took a mouthful of his coffee, wiping his lip with the back of his hand. ‘What with my father demanding so much attention, she hasn’t had the time to check up on me.’

‘Oh, God, Oliver, yes.’ Joanna was ashamed she hadn’t asked about his father before. ‘How is he? I’ve thought about him a lot since you told me about his stroke. Has he made a good recovery?’

‘He’ll get there if he stops arguing with the physios,’ replied Matt, pulling a wry face. ‘He’s accepted that he won’t be fit enough to work again, but he can be a pretty difficult patient at times. He’ll never recover the use of his left arm, unfortunately, but, as we keep telling him, that’s a small price to pay for his being alive.’

Joanna nodded. ‘If—when—you see him again, give him my best, won’t you?’

‘I will.’ Then, after a moment, ‘So, how have you been?’

‘Not too bad.’ Joanna sipped her soda. ‘I had some morning sickness to start with, but that’s normal. And during the last few weeks, I’ve been feeling pretty tired by the end of the day. But that’s normal, too. I’m usually in bed by ten.’

Realising she was chattering, Joanna bit her tongue. Matt wasn’t interested in the everyday details of each trimester. He’d meant how was she feeling now? But his response was typical.

‘You shouldn’t still be working,’ he said. ‘Particularly not for that—for Bellamy.’

‘David’s been really kind to me.’ She hesitated. ‘In any case, I don’t actually work for him anymore. I used some of the money you sent after selling my shares in NovCo and became his partner.’

‘You’re kidding!’ Matt was appalled. ‘So what happens next? You get married and share everything?’

‘Oh, Matt.’ She shook her head. ‘You couldn’t be more wrong where David is concerned.’ She bit her lip and then added, much against her better judgement, ‘He’s more likely to be interested in you than in me!’

Matt was stunned. ‘I can’t believe it.’

‘No, well, it’s David’s business, not mine. FYI, he has a partner. They’ve been together for—oh, I don’t know—about five years.’

Matt absorbed what she’d said with relief and incredulity. Relief, because it meant his fears so far as David and Joanna were concerned were groundless, and incredulity because David had always seemed to treat her as a man treated the woman he loved.

And perhaps he did love her. Whatever the situation, Matt owed the man an apology. An apology he could never give, he realised, not without betraying Joanna’s trust.

Joanna took a deep breath now. ‘Anyway, as you heard, I’m taking a temporary leave of absence at the end of this week.’

‘To go stay with your mother?’ Matt regarded her closely. ‘Is that what you really want?’

Joanna shrugged. ‘It was her idea,’ she said defensively, tracing a pattern on the counter with her fingernail.

She hesitated and then added, ‘I should tell you, she didn’t approve of me keeping the baby’s existence to myself. When I first saw you, I thought she’d contacted you.’

Matt hesitated, and then said, ‘So how do you feel about spending the next couple months in Cornwall?’

‘Well...’ Joanna sighed and Matt waited somewhat curiously for her reply. ‘I can’t go on working at the gallery, and she and Lionel have been very good to me,’ she added, jiggling the straw in her glass.

Matt realised that she’d probably thought it was a good solution. But that was before he’d been involved. This was his child she was carrying, he thought possessively. He should have some say in where she spent the rest of her pregnancy.

‘I saw from your solicitor’s letter that you’re living in the Bahamas these days,’ she said, probably hoping to divert him, but she’d inadvertently given him an idea.

‘I told you I was going to buy a couple of businesses on Cable Cay,’ said Matt casually. ‘I guess you could say I’m helping to bolster the tourist trade on the island. And I’ve done some writing, too. Not the great American novel,’ he added, as her eyes widened. ‘Just a couple of articles for the local rag.’

Joanna was impressed. ‘And does it keep you busy?’

‘Well, that and some sailing,’ agreed Matt, wanting to get back to the real reason he’d brought it up. He paused. ‘When is the baby due?’

Joanna hesitated, and he wondered if she was thinking of lying to him. But she evidently thought better of it, and replied quietly, ‘Around the middle of March. The second week, I think they said.’

‘Do you have a date?’

Matt regarded her enquiringly, his arm brushing her sleeve as he reached for his coffee, and Joanna felt her awareness of him rocket up a notch. Hormones, she reminded herself again, drawing away from him. One of the women at the clinic she attended had been talking about how sexy she was finding her husband these days. A crazy admission, but Joanna couldn’t say her reactions where Matt was concerned were all that different.

Now she said shortly, ‘Really, Matt, what does it matter? I doubt if you’ll be around when he’s born.’

‘He?’ Matt was instantly distracted, picking up on that before anything else. ‘You’re having a boy? For God’s sake, Joanna, were you going to deprive me of seeing my own son?’

Joanna’s face burned. Matt had spoken thoughtlessly, and his voice had been much too loud. She doubted anyone in their immediate vicinity hadn’t heard that damning accusation.

Eyes turned in their direction; curious eyes, eyes that held a certain amount of sympathy—for him. She wondered if she’d ever be able to come into this coffee shop again without being recognised, or meeting someone’s censorious gaze.

‘I want to go,’ she said abruptly, sliding off her stool, and draping the strap of her bag over one shoulder. ‘Thanks for the drink.’

‘Wait!’

But Joanna wasn’t listening to him. With her head down, she headed for the exit. Let Matt deal with the fallout, she thought resentfully. He’d created it. All she wanted to do was go home and lock herself in her apartment.

And give way to the tears that were threatening to destroy what little confidence she had left.

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