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‘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 (#u7cc4d8f3-76a5-5fd5-843a-61cace406010)
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.
After taking a shower to remove the combined effects of the heat and the protective cream Cole had applied, Joanna dressed in the shorts and soft boots she had worn earlier. But instead of the vest she donned a loose-fitting T-shirt. No point in risking sunburn, she told herself sardonically. Not when she wanted to look her best that evening.
She took a taxi from the hotel into town. The garrulous Bahamian driver dropped her in Bay Street, and she spent a pleasant couple of hours browsing through the shops and the Straw Market. She bought herself a length of vividly patterned cotton, to wear sarong-wise around the pool, and a chunky handful of bracelets, sculpted from shells, that clattered attractively every time she moved her wrist. She also treated herself to a new swimsuit, a bikini this time, patterned with the many exotic flowers of the islands.
Before going back to the hotel, she bought herself a can of Coke, and strolled down to the harbour to drink it. A huge cruise liner was tied up at Prince George’s Wharf, and she sat for a while on the sea-wall, watching the activity around the ship.
Passengers came and went, stores were taken on board, members of the crew took time out to stretch their legs on dry land, and local youths on bicycles milled about the quay. If she had had her sketch pad with her, Joanna knew, she would not have been able to resist trying to capture the scene on paper. There was so much colour and excitement, and when she eventually left the harbour the images were still buzzing inside her head.
Perhaps she ought to buy herself a sketch pad, she thought, strolling up into Rawson Square. She had no doubt she would be able to get what she wanted along Bay Street. Although it wasn’t pretentious, it was one of the most comprehensive shopping streets in the world.
But then she shook her head and hailed a taxi to take her back to the hotel. This was supposed to be a holiday, she chided herself. Just because Cole had come, upsetting her carefully arranged schedule, and reminding her that she had once used her work as a means of escape, was no reason to go rushing for the charcoal. She could handle Cole now. She had proved it earlier. And this evening he would realise she was no longer the vulnerable girl he had married and divorced.
Selecting what to wear that evening was rather more difficult than she had expected. While she wanted to look provocative, she did not want to appear tacky. Sexy clothes were all very well, but it was all too easy to go over the top. Luckily, she had gone shopping before she left England, so her choice was not limited. But whether it should be a mini cocktail dress, or a slinky trouser suit, was not an easy decision to make.
She eventually chose to wear a dress. A silk-satin sheath in shades of green and purple that complimented her dark colouring, and brought out the tawny highlights in her eyes. It was short, barely reaching mid-thigh, and the on-the-shoulder, off-the-shoulder neckline exposed the creamy beauty of her skin. She wore no bra or tights, only a lacy brief, for modesty’s sake. It made her look—interesting, she decided. Thank God the extra inches she had acquired after the divorce, when eating and drinking had seemed her only consolations, had all been coaxed away by careful dieting. These days, the energy she gave to her work burned off any unwanted calories. And attending a weekly work-out class kept her body lean and supple.
She left her dark hair loose, securing it away from her face on one side with combs. Although it was silky straight, it was thick and shining, and swung smoothly against her shoulders. Like the rest of her, it was sleek and healthy, and she spared a moment’s unwilling consideration for the man who’d sent Cole here.
If the thought of how what she was planning to do might affect Sammy-Jean disturbed her, she dismissed it. Sammy-Jean had shown no qualms about seducing her husband, so wouldn’t it be ironic now if she could return the compliment? Not that she wanted Cole back again, she assured herself. But taking him away from Sammy-Jean did have a certain malicious appeal.
She needed very little make-up. Her lashes were naturally dark, and only a little dusky eyeshadow was needed to add mystery to the depths of her eyes. A trace of blusher over her cheekbones gave a little colour to her face, and a shiny amber lip-salve enhanced the sensitive fullness of her mouth.
When she viewed her reflection in the mirror, before going downstairs, she was reasonably content with her appearance. She looked young, and sexy, but tantalisingly remote.
The lobby of the Coral Beach Hotel was an atrium, arching to a high, glass-vaulted ceiling. The several floors of rooms curved round the central area, which served as both reception and shopping mall. Tall plants and flowering shrubs filled every available space, with a stone-carved fountain providing a focal point.
As Joanna came down the staircase from the mezzanine, she could see Cole waiting by the fountain. She had chosen to get out of the lift at the floor above ground level, so that she might observe him before he saw her. It was a careful ploy, born of her desire to control every aspect of the evening they were to spend together. Besides, it gave her the opportunity to compose her entrance. Streaming out of the lift, with a throng of other passengers, right where he was standing, was not what she had in mind.
As she had hoped, he saw her before she reached the bottom of the stairs. His searching gaze alighted on her slender figure, as she negotiated the last three steps, and although she affected not to have seen him she was instantly aware of his sharp reaction. He didn’t come to meet her, but his eyes followed every move she made. Much the way the snake he had tattooed on his shoulder watched its victim, she mused fancifully. But that was not a comparison she wanted to make.
He was wearing a jacket, she noticed, a concession to the fact that it was evening. He certainly didn’t need it, even in the air-conditioned lobby of the hotel. Bahamian nights were deliciously warm and inviting. But the more exclusive restaurants insisted on this small formality, so evidently they were dining somewhere expensive.
And God, didn’t he look good! she acknowledged objectively. So good, in fact, that for a moment she doubted her ability to pull this off. But then the reluctant admiration she saw in his eyes restored her confidence. Even if he had deserted her bed for Sammy-Jean’s, he was not indifferent to her. Though she guessed he would hate to admit it.
‘Hi,’ she said, as she closed the space between them. ‘I hope I haven’t kept you waiting.’
Cole shrugged, his broad shoulders moving sinuously beneath the beige twill of his jacket. ‘I had nothing better to do,’ he said, his eyes flickering swiftly over the tantalising curve of her breasts, exposed by the dipping neckline of the dress. Then, looking beyond her, he added, ‘I didn’t realise there were guest rooms on the mezzanine.’
Joanna’s dark brows arched enquiringly. ‘Does it matter?’
‘You walked down from the mezzanine,’ Cole reminded her sardonically. ‘Funny. I got the impression you were staying on one of the higher floors.’
Joanna hid a smile. Evidently, Cole had made it his business to find out exactly where she was staying, but she had been prepared for his question, and her lips tilted charmingly.
‘I made a mistake,’ she lied ruefully. ‘The lift stopped and I got out.’ She grimaced. ‘Silly me!’
‘Hmm.’
Cole’s grunt of assent was hardly sympathetic, but Joanna had achieved what she wanted to achieve, and she could afford to be generous. ‘Does it matter?’ she exclaimed, looking up at him disarmingly. ‘I’m here now. So—where are we eating?’
Cole’s mouth flattened. ‘I thought we might eat at the Commodore Club. They have an excellent restaurant, and you might like to visit the casino later.’
Joanna nodded. ‘Sounds good to me.’ She tucked her leather bag against her side, and slid her fingers round his arm. ‘Shall we go?’
The muscles of his upper arm were taut beneath her grip. She sensed he would like to release himself, and she wondered how he had expected her to behave. It was obvious he was confused by her apparent willingness to co-operate, and he was wary of her appearance, and the provocation it presented.
A row of taxis waited on the forecourt of the hotel, and a black-suited major-domo summoned one at Cole’s request. Joanna climbed into the back of the cab unaided, smoothing down her tight skirt as she scrambled across the seat. She had noticed before that no one bothered to walk round the cabs, and get in at the opposite side. And Cole was no exception as he followed her inside.
But she noticed he kept his distance during the fifteen-minute ride to the Commodore Club. His dark-clad thigh—had he bought a whole wardrobe at the hotel shop?—rested on the worn leather upholstery, several inches away from hers. And, because the majority of taxis Joanna had seen were old American limousines, there was plenty of room.
Getting out of the taxi, he was obliged to offer her his hand. Whatever else he might be, Cole considered himself a gentleman. One of the South Carolina ‘good ole boys’, thought Joanna cynically. Just like his father, and his father before him.
Even so, putting her hand into Cole’s was a disturbing experience. His hand was cool and firm, with calluses at the base of his fingers. And when those fingers curled around hers she was hard-pressed not to hold on.
But, even if she’d wanted to, Cole had to pay the fare. After helping her out, under the striped canopy of the club, he bent to speak to their driver. Then, returning his wallet to his hip pocket, he straightened, urging her into the foyer, with his hand in the small of her back.
It saved touching her skin, Joanna thought ruefully, as they stepped on to the escalator which would take them up to the bar and restaurant. She wondered what he was thinking. Somehow, she sensed she was not going to have it all her own way.
‘Do you want a drink before we eat?’ Cole asked, as they crossed the carpeted upper floor, and Joanna tilted her head.
‘Mmm,’ she said. ‘Something long and cool, with a bite to it. What would you recommend?’
Cole’s eyes glinted. ‘I’m sure I’ll think of something,’ he said, guiding her towards an empty table. ‘I seem to remember you had quite a fancy for mint-juleps. You used to down quite a few of them, while Pa and I were out in the fields.’
Joanna’s lips tightened for a moment, as the memories his words evoked came back to haunt her. But when she looked at him none of her anguish showed in her face. You shouldn’t have said that, Cole, she thought malevolently. I’m going to make you pay for every little dig you make!
‘So I did,’ she warbled now, and no one listening to her would have imagined the offence she had felt at his words. Bastard, she said silently, while her eyes sparkled with mirth. ‘I was a pain, wasn’t I? No wonder you preferred Sammy-Jean to me.’
It was Cole’s turn to look bitter now, but the arrival of the waiter to take their order prevented him from venting his spleen. Besides, she guessed he couldn’t be entirely sure exactly how she had meant it, and although he might suspect her motives he really had no proof.
‘Bourbon and branch,’ he said sourly, ‘and something sweet for the lady. What do you suggest?’
‘How about pineapple rum?’ asked the waiter cheerfully. ‘Pineapple rum, coconut rum, and pineapple juice, shaken over ice. Delicious!’
‘It sounds it,’ put in Joanna smoothly, crossing her legs, and running spread fingers over her knee. She smiled at the man. ‘Cold, but hot. Exactly what I need.’
The waiter’s eyes danced. ‘Yes, sir,’ he said, swinging on his heel, and walking back to the bar. ‘A Valentine’s Special, man,’ he ordered from the bar-keep. ‘And make it real cold!’
Cole’s eyes were far from friendly when he looked at Joanna again. ‘Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?’ he demanded, his tone hard and explosive. ‘Do you want everyone to think you’re using?’
‘Using?’ Joanna’s eyes widened innocently. ‘Using what?’
‘You know!’ retorted Cole savagely. ‘Hell, maybe you are. What would I know about it?’
Joanna’s humour evaporated. ‘I don’t use—or shoot up—or mainline—or any of the other ways people take drugs,’ she declared scornfully. ‘I was having fun, that’s all. Fun! Or have you forgotten the meaning of the word?’
Cole’s mouth compressed. ‘You weren’t just having fun,’ he argued. ‘God, you were coming on to the man!’
Joanna’s brief spurt of anger died. ‘What’s the matter, Cole?’ she asked mockingly. ‘You jealous?’
Their drinks came before Cole could make any response, but his brooding expression was eloquent of his feelings. Oh, this was fun, thought Joanna, a little breathlessly. Why had she never realised it was far more exciting to be bad?
The pineapple rum was delicious. It came complete with an assortment of tropical fruits, with a long curling straw to enable her to avoid the tiny striped umbrella. The umbrella bore the logo of the Commodore Club, and she was tempted to keep it as a souvenir of the evening.
‘Have you and Sammy-Jean had any family yet?’ she queried after a moment, risking Cole’s displeasure yet again. She knew perfectly well that had Cole become a father she would have heard about it. Grace would surely have told her. But why should she avoid a subject that was clearly so exploitable?
Cole regarded her over the rim of his glass. ‘No,’ he said, and she could tell by his tone that he was not unaware of her intentions. ‘But it’s not for want of trying, if that’s what you’re implying.’
Joanna looked down into her drink. Her hands had tightened around the stem, and, noticing her white knuckles, she forced herself to relax. If she wasn’t careful, the glass would break, and Cole would imagine he had scored a victory. What did it matter to her how many times Cole made love with Sammy-Jean? Sammy-Jean was his wife now, and she, Joanna, didn’t give a damn!
