Cage Of Shadows. Anne Mather
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offer him any respite. Instead she gulped thirstily at the delicious liquid, only pausing for breath when the glass was completely empty.
‘Do you want some more?’ he asked, but she made a barely audible refusal, her wet lips muffled against the back of her hand.
‘I shouldn’t like to detain you,’ she declared, getting determinedly to her feet and brushing the sand from her culottes. Being submissive was going to get her nowhere, and she was disappointed that what she had thought was going to be so easy was proving to be so hard.
Matthew took the empty glass from her and set it, along with the jug, on the steps leading up through his garden. ‘I’ll walk with you to the breakwater,’ he said, and although she was tempted to refuse him, she knew that giving in to pique would get her nowhere either.
‘All right,’ she said offhandedly, her mind engrossed with the problem of how she was going to arrange another meeting, and he fell into step beside her, his hands pushed carelessly into the back pockets of his shorts.
‘I suppose it surprises you that I recognised you,’ he remarked, and briefly Joanna acknowledged that this was something she had not yet considered.
‘How did you?’ she asked, looking sideways at him, and his lips twisted humorously as he answered her question.
‘From photographs,’ he said simply. ‘Your father wrote to me from time to time, and in his last letter he enclosed a picture of you. I believe it was taken after you’d won some art award. He was very proud of you.’
‘Oh …’ Joanna bent her head. ‘It must have been the poster competition at school. I haven’t won any other awards.’
‘Nevertheless, you evidently have a talent in that direction.’ Matthew paused. ‘I gather you’re not interested in writing.’
Joanna shrugged. ‘Sometimes I think I would like to write children’s books and illustrate them, but it’s a very competitive field, and I don’t think I’m good enough.’
‘Are you sure you’re not letting your father’s success overshadow your own efforts?’ he asked shrewdly. ‘Perhaps you should discuss it with someone. What does—your stepmother say?’
‘Marcia?’ Joanna wondered how much to tell him. ‘As a matter of fact, Marcia and I don’t talk much any more.’
They had reached the breakwater, and she would have left him then, but now he detained her. ‘What do you mean by that?’ he asked, his attractive voice causing her to pause before scrambling over the wooden struts. ‘Don’t you and Marcia get on? Has there been some trouble between you since Drew died?’
‘You might say that.’ Even now, Joanna could feel her eyes smarting at the remembrance of what her father would say if he knew exactly what had happened. But pushing these thoughts aside, she politely held out her hand. ‘Goodbye, Mr Wilder,’ she said carefully. ‘I hope we can meet again.’
He did not take her hand, however, and presently it fell, rather gauchely, to her side. He really was the most unpredictable man, she thought irritably, looking up at him through her lashes. But also the most disturbing, she conceded, aware of him as she had never been aware of any man before.
‘Is that why you’re here, holidaying alone?’ he asked abruptly, apparently unwilling to abandon his theme. ‘Have you and Marcia had a row? What’s the matter? Didn’t your father leave her enough?’
The note of irony in his voice was surprising, but Joanna was more concerned with the effect his words had on her. Until now, she had kept her thoughts about Marcia to herself, not even telling Sara Davenport, her best friend since their schooldays. But, unexpectedly, Matthew Wilder’s enquiry struck a chord deep inside her, and she knew a sudden weakness to share her feelings with him.
Nevertheless, she stifled it. After all, this man was a virtual stranger to her, whatever his relationship with her father had been, and to confide in him now would be to give in to a purely emotional reflex.
‘I’d better go,’ she said, without answering him, shading her eyes against the glare of sun on sand. ‘Thank you for the drink. It was delicious.’
Her companion inclined his head. ‘It was my pleasure,’ he responded drily, but she suspected he was only playing her game.
‘Goodbye, then,’ she said, not making the mistake of offering him her hand again, and he nodded.
‘Goodbye, Joanna,’ he replied, and by the time she had the temerity to look back, he had disappeared from sight.
Joanna awoke the next morning with a blinding headache. Her head had felt a bit muzzy when she went to bed, and she guessed it was her walk in the sun that was responsible for the present pounding in her temples. Feeling more than a little sorry for herself, she called room service and ordered toast and coffee, and while she was waiting for it to be delivered, she went into the bathroom and turned on the shower.
It didn’t help when her telephone started ringing while she was standing under the abrasive spray. She hadn’t bothered to put on a shower-cap and her long hair was soaking, but, half afraid that it might be Matthew Wilder, she wrapped a towel about herself and went to answer it.
Dripping water all over the bedside rug, she heard the operator ask her to hold on as she had a long-distance call for her. Long-distance! Joanna grimaced. It had to be Evan Price; no one else had any idea where she was.
‘Joanna?’ It was Evan, and she expelled her breath wearily as she heard his familiar tones.
‘Hello, Evan,’ she answered flatly. ‘Look, is this something urgent, because you’ve got me out of the shower.’
‘You don’t sound like a girl who’s enjoying an unexpected winter vacation,’ retorted Evan shortly, his voice echoing hollowly in her ear. ‘I’m just ringing to find out what’s going on. I haven’t heard a squeak from you since you left England!’
‘You may remember, I spent three days in Miami,’ said Joanna defensively, and he snorted.
‘I know that. Didn’t I have to ring the hotel in Miami to find out where you were?’ exclaimed Evan impatiently. ‘You were supposed to keep me informed of your whereabouts, Joanna, not clear off without leaving me a forwarding address!’
‘All right. I’m sorry.’ Joanna sank down on to the side of the bed. ‘But I only arrived here yesterday afternoon. I was going to ring you later today.’
‘Hmm.’ Evan sounded sceptical. ‘Well? Have you anything to report?’
‘After twenty-four hours?’ Joanna protested, curiously loath to relate the events of the previous afternoon. ‘Well, I do know where his house is.’
‘You knew that before you left England,’ said Evan dourly. ‘Palmetto Drive, wasn’t it? So what’s new? Did you make a preliminary reconnaissance?’
Joanna gasped. ‘You make it sound as if I’m spying on him!’
‘Okay, okay.’ Evan sounded a little less aggressive now. ‘So you know where he lives. When are you going to see him?’
‘When am I—–? Evan, the house is practically impenetrable. It’s surrounded by a high fence, and the gates are padlocked!’
‘Yes. Yes, well, that’s something you’ve got to work out for yourself. That’s what I’m paying you for, Joanna.’
‘So it is.’ Joanna couldn’t keep the bitter note out of her voice. ‘I just hope I can earn the money.’
‘Joanna …’ He sounded a little cajoling now, as if he realised he had gone too far. ‘I’ve got every confidence in you. If anyone can do it, you can.’
‘We’ll see,’ said Joanna, feeling an unwarranted stinging of tears behind her eyes. ‘I—I’ll ring you when I have any news. Goodbye.’
She rang off before he could