‘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