LITMIR.BIZ

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followed her out of the coffee shop. She doubted if even he was prepared to face the sympathy of the customers. For herself, she wished ardently that she’d brought her car this morning. It would have been so much easier to slide behind the wheel of her little Mini and make her getaway.

      But these days, she used a bus to take her to and from the gallery. Using her car meant she had to find a parking space, and often that meant a seriously long walk to the gallery. Something she preferred not to do in her present condition.

      It was certainly not a day for hanging around. The rain was coming down in sheets. A glance at her watch informed her that the next bus wasn’t due for another fifteen minutes. And there wasn’t even a bus shelter to offer some protection.

      Dammit!

      Now Matt would offer her a lift, something she had hoped to avoid. Okay, she accepted that he was probably not going to be satisfied until he knew every minute detail of her plans. But being alone with him, talking about their son, meant she was admitting him back into her life.

      Yet did she have a choice?

      Joanna swallowed a little convulsively. When had she started thinking of the baby as their son?

      ‘Where the hell are you going?’

      Predictably, Matt had caught up to her and he grabbed her sleeve as she hurried along the pavement, bringing her to a standstill. Strong fingers sent bolts of fire up her arm, and, controlling her unwelcome reaction, Joanna turned to give him an indignant look. ‘I’m going home,’ she said, aware that she sounded defensive. ‘Where else?’

      Matt seethed. ‘Where did you park your car?’

      ‘I didn’t.’ Realising that he probably wouldn’t believe her, Joanna sighed. ‘I generally use the bus,’ she appended, watching as Matt fished his mobile phone out of his pocket. ‘There’s never anywhere to park around here.’

      ‘Is that so?’ Matt flicked open the phone, punched one of the keys and then spoke into the mouthpiece. ‘Now, Jack,’ he said without preamble, and closed the phone again.

      Joanna’s shoulders sagged. ‘Look, I know this meeting hasn’t been very satisfactory—’ she began, and Matt gave her an ironic look.

      ‘You think?’

      ‘But it’s a bit early to be discussing what’s going to happen after the baby’s born.’ She paused. ‘Don’t you think?’

      ‘Dear Lord, I’m still getting used to the idea that you’re having a baby,’ said Matt harshly. ‘And now I hear you’re having it in less than three months.’ He shook his head. ‘I want to know everything about it. And that definitely includes where the baby is born.’

      Joanna sighed. She was getting wet and, with an effort, she pulled her arm away.

      ‘Come on, Joanna.’ There was no humour in his voice. ‘I’m not leaving here without you. We can go to your apartment, or my hotel. It’s up to you.’

      Joanna bit her lip, and then, shrugging her shoulders, she allowed him to help her into the back of the limousine that cruised to a stop beside them. There was no point in quarrelling with Matt. Not when she had no defence.

      ‘Your apartment?’ suggested Matt, sliding in beside her, and she was immediately made aware of his masculinity.

      The mixture of aftershave and the clean male smell of his body drifted over her. This was why she’d wished she’d brought her own car. In the confines of the back seat of the limousine, Matt was far too close for comfort. Far too close for her shattered nerves to ignore.

      Aware that he was waiting for her response, she glanced at him out of the corners of her eyes. ‘No. Your hotel,’ she said firmly, guessing he would not be expecting that. ‘Is it still the Savoy? We can have afternoon tea in the foyer.’

      Matt’s mouth compressed. ‘I’m staying at a small hotel in Knightsbridge, actually,’ he responded after a moment. ‘But we can have afternoon tea in my suite, if you like.’

      Afternoon tea in his suite!

      Not likely.

      Joanna’s lips parted. ‘I—well, perhaps you’d better come to the apartment, then,’ she said, as he’d probably anticipated she would. ‘But the place is a mess. I’ve been sorting things out for the past couple of weeks and there are boxes everywhere.’

      Matt shrugged and leant forward to give Jack Dougherty his instructions. Then there was an oppressive silence until the chauffeur drew into the grounds of Colgate Court.

      The place looked even less attractive in the rain, Matt thought morosely as he followed Joanna into the building. But at least there was no grim-faced caretaker waiting to block their way.

      She hadn’t been exaggerating about the state of the apartment. There were suitcases in the foyer and clothes and books all over the living-room floor. Which was another source of irritation. If Matt had delayed his trip to London, she might well have left this address. Would he have guessed where she’d gone, or might he have had to go to the gallery and tackle Bellamy? Not a prospect he’d have viewed with any degree of enthusiasm before today, he admitted wryly.

      Matt’s hands curled into fists in his pockets. Thank God, she was leaving here anyway. The room was cold, and he guessed she’d turned off the heating while she was at work. Why did she insist on economising when she had a healthy bank balance? It was ridiculous, and he was feeling bloody frustrated by the whole affair.

      ‘Do you want some tea?’

      Tea?

      No, Matt didn’t want any tea. He wouldn’t have said no to a glass of whisky, but he doubted Joanna kept anything like that here.

      Joanna had shed her coat and was presently filling the kettle at the small sink. Matt’s eyes were irresistibly drawn to her body but he shook his head impatiently and looked away.

      There was little to see beyond the windows as he’d observed the last time he was here. This whole place was a dump, he thought, uncharitably. And possibly damp, too. He was glad Joanna wasn’t planning on having the baby here, even if the prospect of her moving to Cornwall was only slightly less acceptable.

      ‘I don’t have any coffee to offer you,’ Joanna was continuing, and, turning towards her, Matt noticed that the hand taking a cup from one of the virtually empty cupboards beside her was shaking.

      It was difficult for him not to feel sympathetic towards her then. This was the woman he had loved for over six years. He didn’t want to have any feelings for her but, whether it was just a physical thing or not, his body was humming with an unwelcome awareness of her nearness.

      He swore, forcing such thoughts aside. He had to concentrate on the present and what he was going to do now.

      While the kettle boiled, Joanna came into the living area and gestured towards the easy chair beside the windows. ‘Why don’t you sit down? I won’t be a minute.’

      Matt frowned. ‘Why? Where are you going?’

      Joanna made an embarrassed gesture. ‘I’m going to the bathroom,’ she said awkwardly. ‘It’s a hazard of my condition, I’m afraid.’

      ‘Ah.’

      Matt acknowledged the problem and Joanna hurried out of the room. But when she returned, he was still standing in the middle of the floor, and although he’d loosened his leather coat, it still hung damply from his shoulders.

      There were drops of rain sparkling on his dark hair, and she recalled how she used to grip handfuls of his hair when he was making love to her. She remembered winding her legs about his hips, emitting muffled cries of satisfaction every time she reached another climax. And then, lying indolently beneath him, content to feel him inside her, prolonging the visceral connection for as long as she possibly could.

      Oh, God!

      Joanna stifled a groan, wondering when she

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