He gave the cloth a pointed look. “Primping.”
“I’d hardly call cooling myself off primping.” She swabbed her neck and hands. “However, I don’t expect you to understand that.”
“Knowing how to stay alive is a helluva lot more valuable than sewing samplers and drinking tea.”
“I don’t sew samplers and drink tea. I have a profession.”
“A profession,” he repeated mockingly, then laughed. “A professional female?”
She looked at him as if she wanted to say something, but she remained silent.
“So what is this profession?Tea tasting?” He laughed again.
She eyed him for a long time, then said, “I don’t think I’m going to tell you.”
He shrugged as if he could care less. After a minute or so he looked at her. “I know one thing.”
She sighed. “What?”
“This profession of yours can’t be in navigation.”
“Goad all you want, I still say we’re lost.”
“Which is why I’m sailing the boat and you’re not.” He locked his hands behind his head and watched as she dipped the cloth again and wiped her arms.
“There’s a whole ocean of cool water out there, Smitty. Don’t let me stop you.”
“Pardon me?”
“Just strip and jump in.”
“You expect me to jump in the ocean.”
He shrugged. “It’s cool. Think of it as bathing.”
She dipped the cloth in the water again. “This is sufficient, thank you.” She rubbed the handkerchief over her arms.
He snorted.
She looked up. “What was that for?”
“You women and all your little niceties. Just take off your clothes and jump in the water.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “I’m supposed to believe you wouldn’t look.”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t look.” He winked. When she said nothing, he added, “What’s the matter? No guts?”
“Give up.” She turned to look out at the sea. “Your tactics don’t work with me.”
“Yeah... I have to say, you don’t take the bait often.” He paused, then began to tap out a tune on the boat rim because he knew it annoyed her. “Tell me something.”
“What?”
“What do you call that thing you’re wearing anyway?”
She looked at him, frowning. “What thing?”
He waved his hand at her clothes. “That thing.”
