Tidewater Seduction. Anne Mather

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      ‘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.’

       CHAPTER FOUR

      A FOUR-PIECE West Indian band was playing in the grill room, and Joanna was glad that the music negated any real obligation to talk while they were eating. Not that she ate a lot. The melon slid down smoothly enough, but the fish, which was served with a bouquet of vegetables, was rather more difficult to swallow. Instead, she turned to the wine Cole had ordered to accompany the meal, drinking several glasses of the chilled Californian Riesling.

      There was a small dance-floor beyond the tables, where those guests who had finished their meal indulged in a little after-dinner exertion. Joanna spent most of her time watching them, uncaring for once if Cole was looking at her. With her elbow propped on the edge of the table and her chin cupped in one slender hand, she was unaware of the dreamy expression that crossed her face as she watched the swaying couples. For a while, she was completely oblivious of her surroundings, and it took a definite effort to concentrate again when the waiter came to ask if they wanted a dessert.

      ‘Just coffee,’ said Cole, without consulting her, and Joanna pulled an indignant face.

      ‘I might have liked a dessert,’ she pouted, and although she suspected he was only acting Cole’s face softened.

      ‘Coffee first, like back home,’ he insisted wryly. ‘I don’t want to have to carry you out of here.’

      ‘Would you do that?’ she asked huskily, a feeling of heat sweeping over her, and although it wasn’t all that easy to focus on his lean face she thought his eyes darkened at her words.

      ‘If I have to,’ he answered. ‘Why? How do you feel?’

      ‘Muzzy,’ she admitted, emitting a rueful little laugh. ‘Maybe I do need that coffee, after all.’

      ‘You always were a cheap drunk,’ he said, but for once there was no malice in his tone, and Joanna knew an overwhelming urge to make him as aware of her as she was of him.

      Concentrating hard, she stretched out her hand and ran her fingers over his thigh. He jerked back automatically, but not before she had felt the instinctive tautening of muscle under her touch. From his groin to his knee, his leg stiffened defensively, and his lazy humour disappeared beneath a scowl of irritation.

      But when he would have pushed her hand away, she thwarted him with an appealing smile. ‘Dance with me,’ she invited, turning her hand into his, and letting her thumb drift against his palm. ‘Please, Cole. To show you’re not mad at me. For old times’ sake, as you said.’

      He wanted to refuse. The evidence of that was clear in his face. And he resented her for using his words against him. But something—the memory of why he had come here, perhaps, or a desire to prove he was in control of his own destiny, who knew?—made him hesitate long enough for her to draw him to his feet.

      ‘I don’t dance,’ he said, then, his voice clipped and harsh, ‘I think we should get out of here. You need some fresh air.’

      ‘Do I?’

      Joanna swayed, most convincingly, which wasn’t too surprising considering the wine had made her feel decidedly unsteady on her feet. But she could handle it, she told herself, not prepared to lose the advantage now.

      ‘Yes, you do,’ he muttered, as she continued to cling to his fingers. ‘Jo, what do you think you’re doing? This isn’t the way to the exit.’

      ‘I’ll leave after we’ve danced,’ declared Joanna firmly, tugging him after her. ‘We used to dance before. Don’t you remember?’

      ‘That wasn’t dancing,’ snapped Cole, but Joanna’s behaviour was attracting attention, and she could see he didn’t like it.

      ‘Whatever,’ she murmured, reaching the square of polished tiles, and turning into his arms. ‘Don’t be a spoil-sport, darling. Don’t you want to dance with me?’

      Cole scowled, but there was no turning back. Besides, the face she turned up to his was innocent of all deceit, the amber eyes pleading with him to give in.

      And he did. With a grim tightening of his lips, he gripped her waist, and held her away from him. Then, fixing his gaze on some distant point above her head, he began to move rather awkwardly in time to the music.

      Joanna caught her lower lip between her teeth, as a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Oh, lord, she gulped, trying to contain her mirth, she had forgotten what a hopeless dancer Cole was. He had never mastered any step, beyond the square dances he had learned in school, and only her guidance had made him half decent on a dance-floor.

      But not like this, she conceded drily, with at least six inches between them. She didn’t want to remember the other occasions when they had danced together, but she couldn’t help it. Then, the steps they used hadn’t been important. They had moved to the rhythm of their bodies—just like when they were making love …

      She shivered, and the feathering of her flesh reminded her of where she was, and what she was doing. The dance-floor was getting crowded, and when a careless elbow nudged her in the ribs her determination hardened. She could have withstood the painful jab quite easily, but she chose not to. With a startled cry, she launched herself against him, successfully dislodging his hands, and clutching his lapels.

      ‘God!’

      Cole’s reaction was just as violent as she had anticipated, but when he would have drawn back again her hands slid up to his neck.

      ‘Sorry,’ she breathed, her breath wafting sweetly across his cheek, and a nerve jerked spasmodically at his jawline.

      ‘What in hell do you think you’re doing?’ he demanded, his hands reaching up to grab her forearms, with the obvious intention of hauling them down from his shoulders. ‘Damn you, keep СКАЧАТЬ