An Heir Made In The Marriage Bed. Anne Mather
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been ridiculously possessive of her only son.’
As if Joanna didn’t know that.
It didn’t take long to reach Miami Beach. Matt drove over one of the causeways that separated the Beach from Miami proper and then cruised along Collins Avenue to where the Corcovado Hotel occupied a prime spot overlooking the ocean.
The grounds were spectacular. Acres of palm-strewn patios, outdoor cafés and bars, even an Olympic-size swimming pool, floodlit and busy with holidaymakers.
The humidity seemed more intense when Joanna stepped out of the car. Matt had brought the Mercedes to a halt under the awning by the entrance to the hotel, and Joanna didn’t waste any time before hurrying towards the automatic doors.
Her casual ‘See you tomorrow’ should have sealed the deal. But the doors had hardly closed behind her before she became aware that someone else was on her heels.
Glancing round, she wasn’t surprised to find it was Matt, but that didn’t stop her from feeling a surge of resentment at his persistence. ‘What do you want now?’ she demanded, feeling the heat rising up her face at the knowledge that their conversation could be clearly overheard by other guests. ‘I’ve said I’ll see you in the morning and I will.’
Matt’s dark brows arched impatiently. ‘Did you think I wouldn’t escort you to your room?’
‘I don’t need an escort,’ she said, aware that two women, waiting at the check-in desk, were keeping a surreptitious eye on both of them. But most particularly on Matt.
And why not? she thought irritably. Without his jacket, his shirt half unbuttoned because of the heat, he looked far more at home in these luxurious surroundings than she did. Tall and lean, with a touch of the café-au-lait skin tone of some distant ancestor, he was perfectly in control of himself and of the situation, she thought.
Joanna tried to avoid looking at him, but it was difficult. Her eyes were irresistibly drawn to the open neckline of his shirt, to the triangle of dark hair visible on his chest. His lips had parted enquiringly, and Joanna felt her instinctive response. They were thin lips, hard and masculine, and Joanna knew they could be both tenderly soft and brutally cruel.
She swallowed. He wasn’t moving and she really didn’t need this. ‘Okay,’ she said, fumbling in her bag for the booking information she’d downloaded to her phone. ‘You can see me to the lift. But that’s all.’
It was only as she studied the phone that she remembered she had still to check in. Learning that Matt had been seriously ill and giving in to Sophie’s invitation to drive to the villa, she hadn’t confirmed the booking or paid the deposit required, which she’d promised to do as soon as she left the airport. Such trivial details had gone completely out of her head.
What if they’d given her room to someone else?
Damn!
Taking a breath, she turned to him and said, ‘I’ve not checked in yet.’ She hesitated. ‘There’s a queue, and there’s really no need for you to stay.’
Matt felt the kind of tension he hadn’t felt since they were last together. The muscles in his stomach clenched as he said, ‘You’re sure you have a room here?’
‘As sure as I can be.’ Joanna didn’t want to face the alternative. ‘I phoned the hotel from the airport.’
Matt’s dark eyes narrowed. ‘From the airport?’ he echoed incredulously.
Joanna straightened her spine. ‘Look, when I left New York, I didn’t know if you were staying in Miami. All I knew was that I wouldn’t have time to hire a car and drive out to Coral Gables and back in a couple of hours. I was going to phone you, but I needed somewhere to stay, and I remembered—well, I remembered we’d stayed here before.’
‘So we did.’ Matt’s eyes darkened. ‘I’m flattered you recall our visits.’
‘Don’t be sarcastic.’ Joanna sighed. ‘I suppose I had thoughts of asking you to join me here for dinner.’
‘To talk, I assume,’ he remarked, still somewhat sarcastically, and Joanna’s lips tightened.
‘I thought that was what you wanted.’
Matt lifted his shoulders dismissively. ‘And Sophie changed your mind?’
‘Well, yes.’ Joanna took another steadying breath. ‘She told me you’d been ill and—and I was concerned.’
‘How sweet!’
Matt gave a mocking laugh and rocked back on the heels of his suede loafers. That was the last thing he’d expected her to say.
Joanna resented his reaction. ‘I’d be concerned about anyone in similar circumstances,’ she declared, avoiding the lazy beauty of his eyes. ‘Just because I felt sorry for you—’
Matt grimaced then. ‘I don’t need anyone to feel sorry for me,’ he told her shortly. ‘I’ve had a surfeit of that already.’
Clicking her tongue impatiently, she stepped up to the end of the line. ‘Why don’t you just go, Matt?’ she demanded, glancing about her. ‘You’re just wasting your time here.’
‘I wouldn’t say that,’ he countered, and Joanna gave him an exasperated look.
‘All right, then,’ she said tightly, turning her back on him. ‘But you’re going to have to wait. I haven’t even registered yet.’
‘So you said.’
Matt sounded thoughtful, but after a few moments she heard the unmistakeable sound of him walking away. Oh, well, she thought, telling herself she was relieved. It was what she’d wanted. She wouldn’t have liked him leaning over her shoulder while she filled in the forms.
When someone touched her arm a few moments later, she swung round, firmly believing Matt had decided to return. But instead it was someone called George Szudek. The Hotel Manager, or so it said on the badge he was wearing on his lapel.
He was a stocky individual, with a bald head and a full beard and moustache. He greeted her with a smile and gently urged her across the lobby to the open door of his office.
‘Mrs Novak,’ he said politely, guiding her into the room. ‘I believe I can be of some assistance to you and your husband.’
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