Tidewater Seduction

‘Well, I can’t.’

Joanna pressed her lips together, and Grace breathed deeply. ‘No,’ she conceded, after a moment. ‘No, I see that. I suppose I’d forgotten how much you love Cole——’

‘Loved!’ Joanna amended harshly. ‘You’d forgotten how much I loved Cole. Not any more. That love died when they killed Nathan. Or did you forget about him, too?’

There was silence for a while, and when Grace spoke again there was regret in her voice. ‘No,’ she said softly. ‘No, of course I haven’t forgotten Nathan. I’m sorry, Jo. Naturally you must do what you think best.’

Conversely, Joanna felt guilty now. Oh, not about Ryan Macallister, she consoled herself, but perhaps she had been hard on Grace.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said, forcing her mind on to other things. ‘Um—how are the arrangements for the exhibition going? Do you think it’s going to attract enough interest?’

‘Are you kidding?’ Grace responded eagerly, evidently as anxious as Joanna to turn their conversation on to a business footing. ‘I’ve already had acceptances to the opening from all the most important critics, and even Howard Jennings has agreed to make an appearance.’

‘Oh, good.’

Joanna tried to summon some enthusiasm for the news that the editor and presenter of a monthly television arts programme was apparently interested enough to attend, but somehow the importance of the exhibition had been blurred. In spite of all she had said, the image of Cole’s father, sick and dying of that most pernicious of diseases, would not go away, and she was inordinately grateful when Grace said she would have to go, and rang off.

But, if she had hoped that by severing the connection with Grace she could sever all thoughts of the Macallisters, she was mistaken. Memories of Cole, and his father, and Tidewater just kept on coming back, and it was with an angry sense of resentment that she snatched up the bag containing her book, sun-screen, and dark glasses, and left the room.

CHAPTER TWO

THE sun was soothing. It was hard to think of anything with its rays beating against her closed eyelids, and bringing a film of perspiration to her supine body. It was hot beside the pool, hotter than on the beach, where there was at least a breeze off the water to temper the humidity. But Joanna welcomed the numbing effects of the heat, and the mindless lethargy it engendered.

Her hands uncurled against the cream towel she had spread over the slatted sun-bed, and she arched one leg in an unknowingly provocative pose. Oh, yes, she decided contentedly, this was definitely the life! She refused to think about anything, except what she was going to have for lunch.

She had chosen a chair in a secluded corner of the pool deck. It wasn’t that she was unsociable. It was just that she had no wish to appear in need of company. She knew perfectly well that a woman alone often attracted unwelcome attention from the opposite sex, and indulging in any kind of holiday flirtation was not what she had come here for. At home, she did accept an occasional invitation to dinner, or the theatre, but that was different. On the whole, her escorts knew that she was not interested in any serious commitment, and if any of them showed they would prefer a more intimate relationship they were quickly discarded. She liked men, but at a distance. She was polite, and friendly, but nothing more. She had been hurt badly once, and she had no intention of repeating the experience.

Consequently, she was not a little irritated when someone came to occupy the chair next to hers. Through half-closed lids, she glimpsed the cuffs of dark blue swimming-shorts, and brown, muscular legs that curved beneath the cuffs into tight masculine buttocks.

Damn, she thought, closing her eyes again, and pretending she was unaware of him. There were at least fifty other sun-beds set at different angles around the pool. And surely among them were other single women, who would be flattered to receive his attention. Why couldn’t he have chosen one of them? She wanted to relax, not spend her time fending off passes.

The seductive stroke of a cool finger along her arm brought her eyes open with a start. The light, sensitive touch was unwillingly sensual, but she was too angry to admit its effect. What cheek! she thought furiously, pushing herself up. Was it too much to expect that she should be left alone?

Jerking down her sunglasses, which she had been wearing as a kind of surrogate head-band, she turned her incensed gaze on the man beside her. And then her jaw sagged disbelievingly. It wasn’t some pool-side Romeo who was resting on the chair beside hers. It was Cole!

‘Hi,’ he said non-committally. ‘I’m pleased to see you don’t encourage boarders.’

Joanna’s anger floundered. ‘What are you doing here, Cole?’ she exclaimed. ‘I thought you’d be on the next flight back to South Carolina.’

‘Hmm. I guess you did.’ Cole stretched his long legs comfortably, and laced his hands beneath his head. ‘Well, as you can see, I’m still here.’

‘I won’t change my mind, you know.’

Joanna’s response was half peevish, and she wished she hadn’t felt the need to defend herself, when Cole merely shifted to a more restful position.

‘I haven’t asked you to, have I?’ he countered, looking up at her through the sun-bleached tips of his lashes. ‘Relax, Jo. It’s much too hot to fuel all that adrenalin.’

Joanna pressed her lips together mutinously, trying to regain her composure. Now that she was assured that no one was trying to proposition her, she ought to be able to rekindle her sense of well-being.

But, of course, she couldn’t. Although she determinedly lay down again, the feeling of tranquillity had left her. She felt on edge, and agitated, and far too aware of the man on the sun-bed beside her.

His arm was only inches from hers, she observed covertly, tautly muscled, and displaying the tiny tattoo of a venomous bushmaster, which he had had etched when he was just a boy, and for which, he had told her, his father had soundly beaten him. The muscle flexed, as she watched it, tightening and hardening, before relaxing once again. The skin that covered the rest of his arm was brown and smooth and flawless, almost hairless, and lightly sheened with sweat.

Without any volition on her part, her body responded to the sensual appeal of his. The sight of his bare chest, with its flat nipples, and light dusting of hair, disturbed her. She found her eyes following the provocative arrowing of hair that disappeared beneath the elasticated waistband of his shorts. His restless movements had inched the waistband of the shorts down below his navel, and his pelvis made a cradle of his sex.

God! She tore her eyes away, and stared blindly across the pool. What was the matter with her? she chided, as her hands coiled into tight fists. It wasn’t as if Cole’s naked body was any novelty to her. She had lived with him for more than two years, for heaven’s sake! She had seen him in every pose and attitude, in every state of undress. He had a beautiful lean body—a perfect specimen of American manhood. It was a pity the contents didn’t live up to the wrapping!

‘Do you want a drink?’

She was so tied up with her thoughts that Cole’s first question didn’t register. ‘I—beg your pardon?’

‘I said—do you want a drink?’ he repeated, propping himself up on his elbow, drawing up one leg, and half turning towards her. ‘There’s a waitress making a tour of the deck, taking orders. I thought you might like something long and cold and refreshing.’

‘Oh——’ Joanna swallowed, and explored her dry lips with her tongue. ‘Well, yes. I think I will have some lemonade. But I’ll get my own. You don’t have to bother.’

‘It’s no bother,’ Cole assured her, swinging his feet to the ground. He moved swiftly, so that by the time the bikini-clad waitress reached them he was standing up, and Joanna saw to her chagrin that his southern courtesy did not go unnoticed.

‘You didn’t have to stand up,’ she muttered irritably, as he resumed his seat, and Cole’s mouth tilted.

‘No, I know,’ he agreed, brushing an insect from his thigh with a lazy hand. ‘But it costs nothing to be polite.’

‘Would you have stood up if it had been a man?’ she persisted, and Cole’s lips parted to reveal a row of even white teeth.

‘I guess,’ he said, his eyes leaving hers to move insolently over her body. ‘What’s the matter, Jo? Something eating you?’

Joanna shifted uneasily beneath his taunting gaze, and she was aware that she was still aroused from her thoughts earlier. Her own nipples were as taut as buttons, and she tugged surreptitiously at the front of her swimsuit to hide their provocative display.

Unable to think of an answer sharp enough to puncture his mocking self-confidence, she turned her head, and pretended to watch the antics of two young people in the pool. They were teenagers, she guessed, holidaying together for the first time, and from the way the girl draped herself around her companion they were not ignorant of each other’s bodies. There was an intimacy between them that spoke of long nights exploring the intricacies of love. She and Cole had once explored those same intricacies, she remembered. During those long southern nights, before things started to go wrong …

The waitress returned with two tall glasses of lemonade, liberally spiked with ice. Cole took one for himself, and held the other out towards Joanna, and although she was loath to take anything from him it would have been childish to refuse. So, sitting up, cross-legged, she took the perspex tumbler from him, drinking from it thirstily, before tipping her head back on her shoulders, and luxuriating in the intense heat.

Cole was still sitting sideways on the sun-bed, legs spread, bare feet resting on the tiled surface of the pool-deck. It meant she was constantly aware of his eyes upon her but, despite her irritation, she supposed his presence was deterring any unwelcome attention.

‘You look good,’ he said suddenly, and her eyes jerked towards his before she could prevent them.

‘Thank you,’ she returned, striving for a careless tone as she took herself in hand again. ‘So do you. Sammy-Jean’s evidently doing something right.’

Cole’s expression hardened for a moment, but then he returned to the attack. ‘You always were a beautiful woman,’ he murmured. ‘And, if anything, you look better now than you did when we got married.’

‘Then I must be doing something right, too,’ declared Joanna shortly, impatient at the wave of colour that swept into her neck at his words. ‘Living in London isn’t all bad, whatever you think. Our climate may not be as good as yours, but it has its compensations.’

Cole’s brows arched for a moment, and then he looked down at his drink, resting in hands hanging loosely between his thighs. ‘I guess it does,’ he conceded at last. ‘I’m sure Grace would agree with you.’

‘I’m sure she would.’ Joanna nodded. But she didn’t like this conversation. It wasn’t what Cole was saying that troubled her exactly. But the tone he was using did. He was so polite. His lazy southern drawl scraped across her nerves, like a nail over raw silk, and every time he looked at her she grew more and more tense.

‘Um—how—how’s your mother?’ she asked, hoping to divert the conversation away from herself, and Cole lifted his head.

‘Ma’s OK.’ His eyes skimmed her mouth, and although she had just drunk about a quarter of a pint of lemonade Joanna’s lips felt parched. ‘She’s getting older, like the rest of us. But she still works just as hard as ever.’

‘And—and Ben and Joe?’ Joanna felt compelled to keep him talking about his family. ‘And the twins? I bet Charley can swim now, can’t she? Did they start high school yet? Oh, yes, of course, they must have done.’

Cole regarded her between narrowed lids. ‘Are you really that interested?’ he queried, his brooding gaze bringing a deepening of colour in her cheeks. ‘Sure, Ben and Joe are fine. Joe’s married now, and his wife’s expecting their first baby. Charley and Donna started high school last year, and Sandy’s going to join them come fall.’ He paused. ‘I guess that about covers it, wouldn’t you say?’

Joanna bent her head, the weight of her hair sliding over one shoulder to expose the vulnerable curve of her neck. ‘I was just being—polite, that’s all,’ she said, half defensively. ‘I—like your brothers and sisters. And, I used to think that they liked me.’

‘They did.’ Cole shook the ice around in his empty tumbler. ‘Charley often used to talk about the time you and she got stuck out on Palmer’s Island. If you hadn’t swum back to get help, you might both have been swept away.’

‘Oh——’ Joanna made a deprecating gesture. ‘You’d already discovered we were missing. When the boat was washed on to the bank, you’d have guessed where we were.’

‘Maybe not soon enough,’ he insisted, and Joanna felt a remembered sense of apprehension. She could still recall how scared she had been in the water, fighting her way against the current, feeling her arms getting weaker by the minute. She had been unable to stand, when she hauled herself out of the river. If Cole and his brothers hadn’t been searching for them, it might still have been too late. The flooding torrent of the Tidewater River had left Palmer’s Island under several feet of water for hours. No one could have survived its fury, least of all ten-year-old Charley, who couldn’t even swim.

Joanna grimaced now, unwilling to think of that near-tragedy, and Cole stretched out his hand towards her. She thought for one heart-stopping moment that he was going to touch her, and she instinctively drew back against the chair. But, although his lips flattened for a moment, revealing his awareness of her reaction, all he did was lift the empty tumbler out of her hand.

‘I’ll get rid of these,’ he said, dropping one inside the other, and while she tried to recover her self-possession he sauntered across the deck to dump the tumblers.

By the time she heard the depression of his chair’s plastic slats, she was once again reclining on her towel, on her stomach this time, with her eyes closed, and her face turned deliberately away from him. Surely he would get the message, she thought tensely. She didn’t want to have to spell it out for him again. He was wasting his time if he thought he could get her to change her mind. They had a saying in the south, about catching more bees with honey than with vinegar, but if that was Cole’s intention it wasn’t going to work. He was an attractive man, sure, and, even though she had more reason than most to regret the fact, she wouldn’t have been a woman if she hadn’t found him easy to look at. But that was all. She wasn’t attracted to him. Not any more.

‘You’re going to get burned,’ his lazy voice observed, revealing his skin was thicker than even she had thought, and Joanna clamped her jaws together.

‘No, I’m not,’ she retorted, through her teeth. ‘My skin’s too dark, remember?’

‘It’s also used to a colder climate,’ Cole replied, and she heard him get up from his chair again.

God! Joanna lay completely still for a moment, and then, unable to withstand the suspense a moment longer, she rolled over on to her back—just as Cole was lowering his weight on to the side of her slatted mattress. It was just by a swift removal of her arm that she avoided being sat on, and her eyes sparkled indignantly at his uninvited presumption.

‘What the hell do you——?’ she was beginning, when Cole showed her the tube of sun-screening cream in his hand.

‘This is yours, isn’t it?’ he asked, and she guessed he had rifled it from her bag. ‘Turn over,’ he added, unscrewing the cap and squeezing a curl of its contents into his palm. ‘There’s no point in torturing yourself just to spite me.’

Joanna pressed her lips together and stared up at him, resentment oozing from every pore. The last thing she wanted was his help, in anything. And she certainly didn’t want him touching her. But once again he had her at a disadvantage, caught between the desire to show her real feelings, and the knowledge that by doing so she would be handing him all the cards.

So, instead of snatching the cream out of his hand and hurling it into the pool, she forced a tight smile and obediently rolled over again. Let him do his worst, she thought, stifling her angry reaction against the towel. After all, although her skin didn’t tan, it did burn sometimes, and she could do without that aggravation as well.

Cole’s hands were amazingly cool against her hot flesh. Of course, he had just been handling the tumblers containing the ice, she reminded herself grimly, as his long fingers slid across her shoulders, and his thumbs found the nubby column of her spine. She found it was important to keep a sense of proportion, as his probing hands found every inch of exposed skin. She was relieved she wasn’t wearing a bikini. At least the modest maillot left her some dignity.

But not a lot, she had to concede, as the sinuous brush of his fingers began to lull her into a false sense of security. It would be so easy, she thought, to go with the flow; to allow her flesh to respond to the sensuous touch of his; to admit she was enjoying his expert ministrations. Because of the limitations of the sun-bed, his leg was wedged beside her hip, and although the swimsuit protected the upper half of her pelvis his hair-roughened thigh was against the exposed curve of her bottom. It meant that every stroke of his hands on her shoulders brought a corresponding increase of pressure against her hip, and the images that evoked were all sexual …

‘I—think that will do,’ she declared firmly, arching her back away from his fingers, and getting up on to her knees. ‘I’m not planning to stay out here that much longer.’

‘No?’ With a resigned shrug of his shoulders, Cole moved obediently back to his own chair. ‘What are you planning to do, then?’

Joanna didn’t look at him. ‘I think that’s my business, don’t you?’

‘I guess.’ Cole screwed the top back on the tube of sun-cream and dropped it carelessly into her bag. ‘Only askin’, lady.’

‘And I’m telling you, it’s none of your business,’ said Joanna shortly. ‘In any case, don’t you have a plane to catch, or something?’

‘Not until tomorrow,’ Cole replied, wiping his greasy hands over his knees. ‘Sorry.’

‘I should have guessed.’ Joanna’s impatient gaze darted over him. ‘You obviously came prepared.’

‘You mean these?’ Cole hooked a thumb into the waistband of his shorts. ‘I bought them this morning in the shop, here in the hotel. Along with a couple of pairs of underpants, and a fresh shirt.’

Joanna’s lips pursed. ‘Really.’

‘Yes, really.’ Cole inclined his head. ‘It wasn’t my intention to stay away from Tidewater any longer than I had to.’

Joanna dropped her sunglasses down on to her nose again. She had pushed them up into her hair, while she had been lying on her stomach. But now she felt the need for them again, and the doubtful protection they provided.

‘I guess this is a good place to paint, huh?’ Cole murmured, gazing narrow-eyed towards the ocean. ‘Grace told me you’ve got an exhibition coming up.’

‘Oh—yes.’ Joanna wondered what else Grace had told him. ‘The—er—the opening’s a couple of weeks after I get back.’

‘A couple of weeks?’ His eyes flickered. ‘Maybe I should buy a ticket. Get myself an investment for the future.’

‘You’re not serious!’

Joanna’s reaction was unguarded, and he turned to look at her with mild enquiry. ‘Why not?’ he countered. ‘I can tell everyone it was painted by my ex-wife. Should add a lick of glamour to the price, if I ever want to sell it.’

‘That’s sick!’

‘Is it? Why? Just ‘cause maybe I wan’ somethin’ to ‘member you by?’

‘Don’t talk like that!’

Cole’s brows arched. ‘Like what?’

‘Like you didn’t know better,’ retorted Joanna crossly. ‘Oh—do what you like. I can’t stop you.’

His shoulders hunched, and when he spoke again his voice was low and husky. ‘You could have dinner with me tonight.’

‘Have dinner with you?’ Joanna was taken aback.

‘Sure. Why not?’

‘Well——’ Joanna floundered. ‘I—can’t.’

‘You having dinner with someone else?’

‘No.’

The response was automatic. But she could hardly say she was, when if he walked into the restaurant he would find her eating alone. Too late she realised she could have gone out to eat, or ordered room service, but she had answered without thinking. In any case, she didn’t see why she had to make an excuse. It wasn’t as if she wanted to have dinner with him.

‘You afraid to eat with me?’ he suggested slyly, and her resentment flared anew.

‘No,’ she denied tautly. ‘Why would I be? But I don’t think your father, or Sammy-Jean, would approve of our socialising, do you?’

‘And that’s why you’re refusing? Because you don’t want to offend my father?’

‘No!’ Joanna tore the dark glasses off her nose, and stared at him frustratedly. ‘Cole, why are you doing this? You know you don’t really want to have dinner with me at all.’

‘Don’t I?’ His deep blue eyes ranged disturbingly over her flushed face. ‘Maybe I do. For old times’ sake. What do you say?’

Joanna’s hands clenched around the stems of her glasses. Of course, she did know why he was doing this, she told herself. Cole was nothing if not tenacious, and he had evidently got it into his head that sooner or later she would crack. The small talk, the lemonade, and the massage were all intended to soften her up, to make her more receptive, when he mentioned his father’s illness again. He had even bitten the bullet and asked about the exhibition. That must have really galled him. Her work had always been a source of conflict in the past.

Her lips twisted. So how far was he prepared to go, to gain his own ends? If she agreed to have dinner with him, what then? He could hardly talk about something as serious as cancer over the red snapper. So, when did he intend to make his next move? And how?

An imp of vengeance stirred inside her. It might be amusing to find out. In spite of the casual way he had handled the conversation this morning, she hadn’t forgotten his reaction when she turned the tables on him. So long as she was on the defensive, he had nothing to fear. But if she decided to play a different game …

Could she do it? That was what she had to ask herself. She hadn’t to forget that people who played with fire sometimes got burned. But she was over Cole, completely and irrevocably. Her body might still respond to the sexuality of his, but her mind was not involved. And how she chose to behave was no one’s business but her own.

Taking a deep breath, she came to a decision. ‘All right,’ she said, sliding the dark glasses back into place. ‘For old times’ sake. Why not?’

Protected by the glasses, she caught the fleeting trace of surprise that crossed his face at her words. Evidently, he had expected it to be harder to get her to change her mind. None the less, he recovered himself with admirable efficiency, and his lazy smile tugged the corners of his mouth upwards.

‘OK,’ he said, making no objection when she began to gather her belongings together with the obvious intention of leaving. ‘I’ll meet you in the lobby of the hotel at seven o’clock, right?’

‘Right.’

Joanna forced a matching smile. But her expression was distinctly cat-like, as she negligently made her departure.

CHAPTER THREE

Joanna decided to skip lunch, and go into town. She had intended to get a snack from the poolside bar, but the prospect that she might run into Cole again before the evening decided her against it.

Besides, she hadn’t been into Nassau since her arrival. The international airport on New Providence was situated at the north-western end of the island, and the Coral Beach Hotel was on the coast that lay between the airport and the town of Nassau. The previous day she had spent recovering from her jet lag, and basking in her new-found freedom. But today she felt too strung-up by the thought of the evening ahead to relax anywhere. She needed action, and distraction, and the chance to spend some of the dollars she had brought with her.