Finished packing the picnic basket, Elinor settled onto the blanket, battling the urge to relax. Lying back on the blanket could only lead to one thing, given the sexual tension that hummed between her and Cole. And she couldn't allow herself to be seduced just because the man had set up a college fund.
"I think," Cole stared up into the canopy of branches as he spoke, "that it's time to subtract those ten years we were talking about earlier."
"You mean this wasn't it?" Elinor gestured to the picnic basket.
"Oh, no," he dismissed. "What's risky about a picnic?" He vaulted to his feet in a sudden, athletic move.
"Risky?" Elinor echoed, staring up at him. "This has to be risky?"
"All the really good things in life are," Cole told her, holding out his hand.
"Oh." What on earth could he be up to now? She'd been sure he was about to make a move on her, but the sudden, dancing light in his eyes didn't look the least bit seductive.
"Come on, Elinor. Let's be eighteen."
"Eighteen wasn't a really good year for me," she grumbled, letting him pull her to her feet.
"Sometime I want you to tell me about your best year," he commented, dragging her by the hand as he purposefully approached the river.
"Wait a second!" Elinor yelped, trying to tug her hand loose from his grip to no avail.
"You must approach life with a more open attitude," Cole lectured, towing her to the bank of the river.
"Cole! Don't you dare!" she howled.
Standing next to the water, he suddenly dropped her hand.
Elinor backed up, gaping in shock as Cole began to shuck his shoes and socks.
"What on earth are you doing?"
"Rolling up my pants," he replied with equanimity.
"You're going to . . . wade?"
"Yes, my lovely chicken. If I were planning to skinny dip, I'd be dropping my pants." Dressed only in a short- sleeved oxford shirt and trousers rolled up to his knees, he presented an incongruous sight. "And I am not planning to wade alone."
"Now, Cole." Elinor started backing up in earnest. True, it was a great relief not to be thrown into the water, or asked to strip down to the buff. But that didn't mean she wanted to go wading. "Cole, it's too cold to go wading."
"It's never too cold to wade in Louisiana." He snagged her wrist again, this time bending down to hoist her over his shoulder.
"Cole!" she shrieked between helpless giggles as he strode toward the river. "Put me down!"
He set her down just at the river's edge. "Now." He leered evilly. "Do you need any help getting out of those panty hose?"
"No," Elinor averred quickly.
Cole laughed. "Okay, but I'm only turning my back for ten seconds." He swiveled around and began counting loudly.
"Good grief!" She grappled under her skirt with urgent hands, grateful she'd left the hated shoes back at the blanket.
"Seven and a half," he counted. "Eight, eight and three-fourths."
Elinor tugged at the stretchy material, wondering why panty hose never came down when you needed them to.
"Nine, nine and five-eighths."
She balanced, waveringly on one bare foot, tugging desperately to free the other.
"Ten!" Cole pivoted around just as she was smoothing her skirt down around her hips.
Unholy mischief lit his face. "I knew you could do it. There's something so attractive about a woman who can shed her lingerie at rapid speed."
"I'm sure," Elinor retorted, staring at the sluggish green water of the river with resigned eyes.
"Come on, chicken." Cole took her hand again.
"I can do this without assistance," she commented, allowing him to lead her into the river's edge.
"Life's more fun when it's done together," he told her, a glimmering, banked promise in his eyes.
Elinor gulped, absorbing the shock of sensations. Cold water raced past her calves as her toes buried themselves in river mud. Cole's hand was warm and strong around hers, as the splendor of his approving smile drew her on.
They waded in the river, Cole picking up stray objects from the river floor with his toes. He scattered drops of water in her direction, just enough to send her in retreat. Elinor felt like a tentative flamingo, picking her way along the shore as her body adjusted to the cool water.
Finally she got out, standing on a convenient rock long enough to let the river wash the mud from her feet. Cole skulled along without her, going deeper into the river, unconcerned about the water lapping at his expensive trousers.
Feeling freer than she could ever remember and deliciously relaxed, Elinor settled on a grassy spot, the river lapping at her feet. She leaned back, admiring the small puffs of clouds that dotted the sky, drifting timelessly.
"Hey, El!" Cole called out.
Propping herself on her elbows, she saw that he'd waded closer and was now bent down at the bank, scooping mud from just above the water line.
"I used to do this all the time when I was a kid," he told her. "I wonder if I've lost my touch." He formed a ball with a small clump of damp earth.
"That better not be for me," Elinor warned, not feeling alarmed.
Cole laid one mud ball on the bank and bent to scoop up another handful. "Don't you know a statement like that is an invitation?"
"No, it's not," she denied, reaching down to brush a fly from her knee.
As he glanced up, Cole's eyes followed her movement, drifting down the length of her legs with suddenly taut features.
A frisson of excitement ran through her like a warning, but Elinor ignored it. She was too content to play safe, too replete in his company to even want to avoid the possibilities.
He formed a third ball with the river mud, shaping it carefully to brush off loose clumps. "Now." He retrieved the other balls in his hands and stepped back into the river.
With a simple toss, he sent the balls into the air, one at a time, until all were aloft in a flowing triangle of movement. He had to reach for the first one as it fell wide, but within a few moments he kept all three balls up in the air with amazing ease.
Elinor's surprised gasp turned to a strangled chuckle. Cole stood knee-deep in the flowing river, juggling mud balls like a carny in a sideshow.