She knew his eyes followed her. She could feel them, boring into her back, as she swayed provocatively between the tables. And she was glad he would see nothing to betray the emotional trauma he had once wrought in her life. Her figure was as slim now as it had ever been, due as much to hard work as careful dieting. Her legs were long, and shown to some advantage in the frayed Bermudas she was wearing with a buttoned vest. Even her hair had the shiny patina of good health, longer now than she used to wear it, and caught at her nape in a silver barrette.
Of course, she came down to earth again as quickly as she had gone up. As soon as she was inside the glass screens, which had been folded back to allow free access between the indoor and outdoor sections of the restaurant, the sense of exhilaration she had felt while she was with Cole quickly abated. Besides, once the desire to thwart his plans had been accomplished, she was troubled by an annoying twinge of conscience. Whatever Cole thought, she was not as hard as he imagined. And, although it was true that Ryan Macallister had never accepted her as Cole’s wife, he was an old man, and dying, if Cole was to be believed.
She paused in the lobby of the hotel, not sure now of what she wanted to do. She had been intending to get a book from her room and spend the morning sitting in the sun, but her confrontation with her ex-husband had left her disturbed and restless.
She needed her swimsuit anyway, so, forcing thoughts of Cole aside, she took the lift up to her room. She was on the fourth floor just one below the penthouse suites. She had a large room, that was part-sitting-room, part-bedroom, with a wide balcony overlooking the Atlantic. All the rooms had balconies, but they were made private by the solid walls that divided them.
As she stripped off her vest and shorts and put on a scarlet maillot, Joanna couldn’t help wondering where Cole was staying. She guessed he must have flown down from Charleston yesterday evening, and it was infinitely possible that he was staying at this hotel. But he had probably just booked in for one night. He had no doubt expected to persuade her to fly back with him later today.
She sighed, regarding her reflection in the long closet mirrors, without really noticing how well the strapless swimsuit looked. Perhaps she should just sunbathe on her balcony this morning, she was thinking. She didn’t think Cole would know her actual room number, and even if he did he was unlikely to come looking for her.
Then she frowned. No, she told herself firmly. She was not going to run away from this. She had proved she could challenge Cole and get away with it. Why shouldn’t she do so again, if it was necessary? It didn’t matter what he said, or what he thought of her. She was a free woman. She could do what she liked.
In any case, she added, in a less than radical afterthought, Cole was unlikely to hang around, once he realised she meant what she said. It was early May, after all. A busy time of the year for him. And if his father was seriously ill——
But Joanna refused to think about it. She would not allow herself to feel guilty about a man who had always hated her, and her beliefs. Dear God, he had even destroyed his own son in his efforts to get what he wanted!
The phone rang as she was pulling an outsize T-shirt over her head. The baggy cotton garment barely skimmed her thighs, but its shoulders would keep her cool if the sun got too hot. It served the dual purpose of covering her swimsuit and providing protection, and she liked it better than some custom-made jacket.
When the phone rang, she hastily jammed her arms into the sleeves, and tugged it down around her. Then, halfway to answer the call, she halted. What if it was Cole? She was not sure she was ready yet for another altercation. She needed time to build her defences. She wasn’t sure she was as immune to his censure as she thought.
But the realisation that it was more likely to be her mother, calling to make sure everything was OK, forced her to think again. Neither of her parents had been particularly keen on her taking this holiday alone, not to mention travelling so far from her home in London. In spite of her abortive marriage to Cole—or perhaps because of it—they had become increasingly protective, and, although she had phoned them on her arrival two days ago, they probably wanted an update on her movements.
Even so, there was a definite edge to her tone as she picked up the receiver, and the woman’s voice that greeted her revealed a similar tension.
‘Jo? Jo, darling, is that you? Oh, God, you sound so clear. Are you really thousands of miles away?’
Joanna’s relief was almost palpable, and, running her tongue over her dry lips, she smoothed one damp palm down the seam of her T-shirt. But with the relief came a kindling of resentment towards her caller, and her voice was only slightly warmer as she answered, ‘Yes. Yes, Grace, it’s me. A sitting duck, as you expected.’
‘Oh, Jo!’ Grace sounded anxious now. ‘I know what you must be thinking, but try to understand my position. Ryan is my brother-in-law, after all. When—when Cole asked where you were, I had to tell him.’
Joanna absorbed this in silence. Although she still resented the fact that Grace had betrayed her whereabouts, without even clearing it with her first, she wasn’t unmindful of Grace’s family responsibilities. Oh, it was easy enough to dismiss them by reminding herself that Grace’s marriage to Ryan Macallister’s brother had been no more successful than her own, but the truth was Grace was more dependent on the Macallisters than she was. Grace and Luke Macallister had two sons, Evan and Luke Junior. If she wanted to continue seeing her sons on a regular basis, she couldn’t afford to offend the man who could deny her that privilege.
‘Jo? Jo, are you still there?’
Grace’s worried tones brought Joanna’s attention back to the phone. It was her own fault really, she thought. As soon as her marriage to Cole broke up, she should have found herself another agent. But she had known Grace for almost ten years. Grace had recognised her talent long before the water-colours she produced became popular. Heavens, it was through Grace that she had met Cole—though the virtues of that particular introduction had long since been debased. Nevertheless, she was fond of Grace, she owed her a lot, and it wasn’t fair to expect her to jeopardise her relationship with her own flesh and blood.
‘Yes, I’m still here, Grace,’ Joanna answered now, expelling her breath on a long sigh. ‘OK, I forgive you. I suppose you didn’t have a lot of choice. But, dammit, you should have warned me! I couldn’t believe it when I saw Cole across the terrace.’
Grace made a sound of surprise. ‘You’ve seen Cole?’
Joanna frowned. ‘Of course.’ She paused. ‘What did you expect?’
‘Oh—I don’t know.’ Grace sounded doubtful. ‘When he phoned, I got the impression he didn’t want to leave Tidewater at this particular time.’
Joanna shrugged. ‘Well, he must have changed his mind.’
Grace hesitated. ‘And are you going back with him?’
‘No.’
‘No?’ Grace sounded dismayed. ‘But Jo, Ryan’s dying!’
‘So?’ Joanna refused to allow the other woman to influence her.
‘He has cancer,’ Grace persisted. ‘According to Cole, the doctors give him a few weeks at most. Jo, he is Cole’s father. Can’t you find it in your heart to feel some compassion? I know you and he have had your differences, but——’
‘Differences!’ Joanna almost spat the word. ‘Grace, that man and I did not have differences! We were totally opposed to one another in every way. Ryan Macallister doesn’t deserve anyone’s compassion. He’s a twisted, evil man!’
Grace sighed. ‘You really hate him, don’t you?’
‘Wouldn’t you?