she was not a little irritated when someone came to occupy the chair next to hers. Through half-closed lids, she glimpsed the cuffs of dark blue swimming-shorts, and brown, muscular legs that curved beneath the cuffs into tight masculine buttocks.
Damn, she thought, closing her eyes again, and pretending she was unaware of him. There were at least fifty other sun-beds set at different angles around the pool. And surely among them were other single women, who would be flattered to receive his attention. Why couldn’t he have chosen one of them? She wanted to relax, not spend her time fending off passes.
The seductive stroke of a cool finger along her arm brought her eyes open with a start. The light, sensitive touch was unwillingly sensual, but she was too angry to admit its effect. What cheek! she thought furiously, pushing herself up. Was it too much to expect that she should be left alone?
Jerking down her sunglasses, which she had been wearing as a kind of surrogate head-band, she turned her incensed gaze on the man beside her. And then her jaw sagged disbelievingly. It wasn’t some pool-side Romeo who was resting on the chair beside hers. It was Cole!
‘Hi,’ he said non-committally. ‘I’m pleased to see you don’t encourage boarders.’
Joanna’s anger floundered. ‘What are you doing here, Cole?’ she exclaimed. ‘I thought you’d be on the next flight back to South Carolina.’
‘Hmm. I guess you did.’ Cole stretched his long legs comfortably, and laced his hands beneath his head. ‘Well, as you can see, I’m still here.’
‘I won’t change my mind, you know.’
Joanna’s response was half peevish, and she wished she hadn’t felt the need to defend herself, when Cole merely shifted to a more restful position.
‘I haven’t asked you to, have I?’ he countered, looking up at her through the sun-bleached tips of his lashes. ‘Relax, Jo. It’s much too hot to fuel all that adrenalin.’
Joanna pressed her lips together mutinously, trying to regain her composure. Now that she was assured that no one was trying to proposition her, she ought to be able to rekindle her sense of well-being.
But, of course, she couldn’t. Although she determinedly lay down again, the feeling of tranquillity had left her. She felt on edge, and agitated, and far too aware of the man on the sun-bed beside her.
His arm was only inches from hers, she observed covertly, tautly muscled, and displaying the tiny tattoo of a venomous bushmaster, which he had had etched when he was just a boy, and for which, he had told her, his father had soundly beaten him. The muscle flexed, as she watched it, tightening and hardening, before relaxing once again. The skin that covered the rest of his arm was brown and smooth and flawless, almost hairless, and lightly sheened with sweat.
Without any volition on her part, her body responded to the sensual appeal of his. The sight of his bare chest, with its flat nipples, and light dusting of hair, disturbed her. She found her eyes following the provocative arrowing of hair that disappeared beneath the elasticated waistband of his shorts. His restless movements had inched the waistband of the shorts down below his navel, and his pelvis made a cradle of his sex.
God! She tore her eyes away, and stared blindly across the pool. What was the matter with her? she chided, as her hands coiled into tight fists. It wasn’t as if Cole’s naked body was any novelty to her. She had lived with him for more than two years, for heaven’s sake! She had seen him in every pose and attitude, in every state of undress. He had a beautiful lean body—a perfect specimen of American manhood. It was a pity the contents didn’t live up to the wrapping!
‘Do you want a drink?’
She was so tied up with her thoughts that Cole’s first question didn’t register. ‘I—beg your pardon?’
‘I said—do you want a drink?’ he repeated, propping himself up on his elbow, drawing up one leg, and half turning towards her. ‘There’s a waitress making a tour of the deck, taking orders. I thought you might like something long and cold and refreshing.’
‘Oh——’ Joanna swallowed, and explored her dry lips with her tongue. ‘Well, yes. I think I will have some lemonade. But I’ll get my own. You don’t have to bother.’
‘It’s no bother,’ Cole assured her, swinging his feet to the ground. He moved swiftly, so that by the time the bikini-clad waitress reached them he was standing up, and Joanna saw to her chagrin that his southern courtesy did not go unnoticed.
‘You didn’t have to stand up,’ she muttered irritably, as he resumed his seat, and Cole’s mouth tilted.
‘No, I know,’ he agreed, brushing an insect from his thigh with a lazy hand. ‘But it costs nothing to be polite.’
‘Would you have stood up if it had been a man?’ she persisted, and Cole’s lips parted to reveal a row of even white teeth.
‘I guess,’ he said, his eyes leaving hers to move insolently over her body. ‘What’s the matter, Jo? Something eating you?’
Joanna shifted uneasily beneath his taunting gaze, and she was aware that she was still aroused from her thoughts earlier. Her own nipples were as taut as buttons, and she tugged surreptitiously at the front of her swimsuit to hide their provocative display.
Unable to think of an answer sharp enough to puncture his mocking self-confidence, she turned her head, and pretended to watch the antics of two young people in the pool. They were teenagers, she guessed, holidaying together for the first time, and from the way the girl draped herself around her companion they were not ignorant of each other’s bodies. There was an intimacy between them that spoke of long nights exploring the intricacies of love. She and Cole had once explored those same intricacies, she remembered. During those long southern nights, before things started to go wrong …
The waitress returned with two tall glasses of lemonade, liberally spiked with ice. Cole took one for himself, and held the other out towards Joanna, and although she was loath to take anything from him it would have been childish to refuse. So, sitting up, cross-legged, she took the perspex tumbler from him, drinking from it thirstily, before tipping her head back on her shoulders, and luxuriating in the intense heat.
Cole was still sitting sideways on the sun-bed, legs spread, bare feet resting on the tiled surface of the pool-deck. It meant she was constantly aware of his eyes upon her but, despite her irritation, she supposed his presence was deterring any unwelcome attention.
‘You look good,’ he said suddenly, and her eyes jerked towards his before she could prevent them.
‘Thank you,’ she returned, striving for a careless tone as she took herself in hand again. ‘So do you. Sammy-Jean’s evidently doing something right.’
Cole’s expression hardened for a moment, but then he returned to the attack. ‘You always were a beautiful woman,’ he murmured. ‘And, if anything, you look better now than you did when we got married.’
‘Then I must be doing something right, too,’ declared Joanna shortly, impatient at the wave of colour that swept into her neck at his words. ‘Living in London isn’t all bad, whatever you think. Our climate may not be as good as yours, but it has its compensations.’
Cole’s brows arched for a moment, and then he looked down at his drink, resting in hands hanging loosely
