Anne Mather - Tidewater Seduction

‘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!

‘Something wrong?’ Cole’s blue eyes were smugly intent, and Joanna expelled her breath on a rueful sigh.

‘No,’ she said, deliberately wistful. ‘I was just remembering how good you were in bed.’

‘Good God!’ Cole’s jaw hardened. ‘You don’t give up, do you?’ He swallowed the remainder of his drink in one violent gulp, and gestured for the waiter to bring him another. ‘What do you want from me, Jo? Blood ?’

Joanna knew a fleeting sense of conscience, but then the waiter arrived to replace Cole’s glass, and she consoled herself by taking another mouthful of her own drink. But her lips around the pink straw were unconsciously provocative, and Cole uttered an imprecation as he lifted his bourbon to his mouth.

‘You folks dinin’?’ enquired the waiter, and at Cole’s curt nod he flourished two enormous menus from under his arm. ‘Take your time,’ he added, his knowing gaze taking in the situation at a glance. ‘I’ll be back later to take your order.’

Propping her menu on the table in front of her, Joanna continued to enjoy her drink as she studied its contents. There was a vast array of dishes to choose from, with imported American steaks and locally caught seafood providing the main selections. There was fried chicken, too, prepared with the familiar ‘peas ‘n’ rice’, which was a national passion.

‘What do you want?’ asked Cole, after a few minutes, his tone cool and unfriendly, and Joanna felt a trace of regret.

‘The grouper, I think,’ she answered, mentioning the name of the most popular fish in the area. ‘And melon, to begin with. I’m not very hungry.’

Cole acknowledged her choice with a brief inclination of his head, and the waiter, who had evidently been keeping an interested eye on their table, came to take their order.

Cole ordered the grouper, too, but with a salad starter. ‘And bring the lady another of those,’ he said, as Joanna set down her empty glass. ‘And I’ll have another bourbon.’

Joanna arched her brows, half in protest, but the waiter was already sauntering away between the tables. Besides, the drink had been delicious, she conceded. And fairly innocuous, too, judging by the clearness of her head.

There was silence between them for a while. Joanna could have broken it with some other audacious comment, but she realised she was in danger of alienating Cole completely, and that hadn’t been her intention at all.

So, instead of sniping at him, she pretended an interest in their fellow guests, thanking the waiter for her drink when it came, without any further attempt to provoke her companion.

And, as she had half expected, Cole was eventually forced to say something. She guessed he was not unaware that their lack of communication had been noticed by the people at the next table, and as he had been the one to cause their isolation he chose to be the one to end it.

‘Do you see much of Grace?’ he asked, in a voice that would have cracked ice, and Joanna turned her gaze from a bowl of exotic plants to look at him.

‘That depends,’ she said, moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue.

‘On what?’

The question was wrung from him, and Joanna smiled. ‘On whether I’m working or not,’ she declared smoothly. ‘Grace is my agent. She’s only interested in when I’m going to finish my next painting.’

‘I’m sure that’s not true.’ Cole’s tone had lost some of its chilliness. ‘Grace always liked you. She considers you a friend.’

‘Mmm.’ Joanna stirred her drink with the straw. ‘Well, let’s say things have been a little strained between Grace and me, since we—broke up.’

Cole frowned. ‘I don’t believe it. Hell, I’d have thought you and she had a deal in common.’

‘Would you?’ Joanna looked at him through her lashes. ‘You should know Grace won’t have a word said against your father.’

Cole’s mouth thinned. ‘Unlike you, huh?’

‘I don’t have two sons whose livelihood is dependent on someone else’s goodwill,’ she countered lightly. ‘Your father can’t hurt me, Cole, and that must be a real source of aggravation to him.’

‘I doubt if he cares that much, one way or the other,’ retorted Cole bitterly. ‘But you always had to face him down, didn’t you? You’d never admit that sometimes he just might be right!’

‘Like when he accused Nathan of sleeping with your wife?’ she enquired tautly, and then, seeing the dark, tormented, expression her words had provoked, she quickly regressed. ‘Forget I said that. It doesn’t matter. He did us both a favour, didn’t he? Oh—here’s the waiter. Our table must be ready.’

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