Secret Heirs Collection. Коллектив авторов
she said, with a grateful smile. ‘Thank you.’
She poured two cups, leaving Matt’s black but adding two sugars before pushing the cup towards him. ‘Go on,’ she said. ‘Drink it. You look as if you need it.’
Matt’s lips twisted. ‘Do I?’ His tone was gruff. ‘Sophie, I haven’t seen Joanna in—what? Five months?’
‘But you did go to London to see her after our father’s stroke, didn’t you? I thought maybe you and she had mended your differences or something.’
Matt shrugged. ‘Hardly that.’
‘But you took her back to the hotel when she was in Miami.’ Sophie hesitated. ‘Did you sleep with her?’
Matt took the coffee she’d poured him and swallowed a mouthful before replying, ‘What’s that got to do with you?’
Sophie stared at him incredulously. ‘You were with her when I called the hotel to tell you about our father, weren’t you? Was she the reason why you didn’t answer your phone? My God, Matt, I thought you had more sense than that.’
Not that it mattered now, but Matt had thought so, too.
JOANNA CARRIED THE cup of tea she’d just made for herself through to the front office. She didn’t drink coffee these days, and, truth to tell, she hadn’t missed it.
All the same, she didn’t mind admitting she was tired, even though it was barely four o’clock in the afternoon. Getting up at half-past seven in the morning to arrive at the gallery before nine o’clock had begun to take its toll.
Still, she consoled herself, she only had two more days to go before she left to have the baby. Well, not exactly to have the baby, she corrected herself. But she was over six months now and she’d finally given in and accepted her mother’s invitation to spend the latter weeks of her pregnancy in Padsworth.
What happened after the baby was born was another matter. All she knew for sure was that during the course of the pregnancy, she had become attached to the small life growing inside her. He had become a part of her. The fact that he was a part of Matt, too, was something she still had to deal with.
Sitting down, she ran her hand over the bump that swelled her jersey shift. She felt the kick that pushed against her palm and couldn’t prevent a smile. Evidently her son wasn’t tired, she acknowledged. Even though his energetic antics had kept her awake half the night.
Not for the first time in recent weeks, she thought about her ex-husband and what he was doing now. The fact that he knew nothing about his son’s existence had begun to play on her mind. But she would tell him, she assured herself. She was only putting it off until the baby was born.
To begin with, she’d felt justified in not calling him again. She didn’t want to embarrass him, she told herself. And she certainly didn’t want anyone to feel sorry for her. This woman he was with: who knew how serious that was? After the way he’d walked out of her apartment, she’d had no reason to believe he would be glad to hear from her again.
But as the weeks went by and the baby grew inside her, she knew she’d been fooling herself. Of course, he’d want to know about the baby. The trouble was, she had no idea how she could approach him now. She should have phoned again when she’d had the chance, she thought unhappily. Matt might not care about her, but she was sure he’d care about the baby.
The fact that he hadn’t challenged her petition for divorce was some justification, surely. Apparently, the fact that there might have been consequences from the night they’d slept together hadn’t occurred to him. But why would they? she’d mused ruefully. They’d been trying for a baby for so many years without any success.
No, after that confrontation in London, he appeared to have washed his hands of her. And she consoled herself with the thought that there’d be time enough to think about how she was going to handle the situation after the baby was born. The last communication she’d had from his solicitor had quoted the address on Cable Cay that Matt had given her. So, evidently, he’d left NovCo now and moved to the Bahamas, as he’d planned.
Alone?
Pushing that thought aside, Joanna studied the details of the showing that was taking place the following week on the website. Since becoming a partner in the business, she’d set up the website and acquired a list of email addresses she could use to announce forthcoming events. It had worked well and drawn a lot of new people into the gallery, people who only learned about things through social media.
The young artist being featured this coming week was a favourite of hers, and she hoped the exhibition went well. Unfortunately—or fortunately, whichever way you looked at it—Joanna would not be around to see it. She was leaving for Cornwall on Saturday, much against David’s better judgement, she had to admit.
He believed she’d be better off staying in London. He’d be on hand if she needed him, and she could always continue updating the website from home. These days, he deferred more and more to her judgement, and there was no doubt that she would miss the excitement of not knowing what each day was going to bring.
Despite learning how expensive a childminder was going to be, she’d still been able to invest in the gallery, which she hoped would provide security for the future. Initially, she’d believed she could only afford one or the other. But because when she and Matt had divorced, she’d been contacted by Matt’s solicitor with a view to selling her shares in NovCo, she’d decided she owed it to her father to accept the interest they’d made.
As she sipped her tea, she heard the outer door open and guessed her partner was back from lunch. David had been schmoozing with a wealthy collector, who he hoped would agree to attend the following week’s showing.
She heard footsteps in the gallery, but David didn’t immediately come through to the office. Either he was making adjustments to the display or it wasn’t David at all. Which meant she should show her face. It wouldn’t do to allow a would-be customer to feel neglected.
Setting down her tea, she rose to her feet, briefly checking her reflection in the glass of a picture hung above David’s desk. She wore her hair in a single braid these days and, apart from a few errant strands curling about her ears, it hung smoothly over one shoulder.
But it was almost the end of the day and any make-up she’d started out with was virtually non-existent. Not that a touch of mascara and a smear of cinnamon lip gloss achieved much. All the same, with her prominent bump, she bore little resemblance to the glamorous receptionists she’d seen in other galleries around town.
Stepping out into the gallery proper, she glanced quickly about her. Had she been mistaken? There didn’t appear to be anybody about. But the gallery was quite big, and the stone bases supporting the current display of bronzes blocked her view.
‘Hello,’ she called, hoping someone would answer. ‘Can I help you?’
‘I hope so.’
The voice was sardonic but, in spite of the passage of time, so recognisable that Joanna’s breath caught helplessly in the back of her throat.
Matt, she saw with some dismay, stepped out from behind the wooden frame that stood at the front of the gallery, announcing the current artist’s identity. In narrow-fitting jeans and a thigh-length leather jacket, the collar tipped up against the rain, he looked heartbreakingly familiar, and she found it hard to tear her eyes away.
Licking her dry lips, she said, ‘Matt.’ She took a breath. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Do you need to ask?’
Looking at Joanna now, Matt was glad he’d had the sense to check out the gallery before actually speaking to her.
Despite what Sophie had said, he hadn’t intended to make this trip,