Renegade Millionaire (7 page)

About time. He'd mesmerized her on more than one occasion.

Finally he looked away and removed the rack. “It's all yours.”

With a little thoughtful planning, Joanna managed to hit the cue ball exactly right, causing it to bounce twice but landing short of the other balls.

She straightened and tried to look contrite. “Sorry. Guess it's been longer than I thought.”

“Maybe you're not holding the cue right.” He took his time traveling to the other end of the table but didn't hesitate when he came up behind her and circled his arms around her, positioning her hand on the end of the stick. Joanna had all the confidence in the world on how to handle a cue, but she didn't have a clue on how to handle his nearness and still remain composed enough to play the game. He was warm against her back, hard, male, making her feel intoxicated as if she'd raided the old-timey bar and downed all the whiskey.

His breath fanned her face, fed the flame now spanning the length of her. He smelled like incense, spicy and exotic and tempting. Joanna continued to play ignorant, play at this game of chance where the stakes were high and losing all common sense could be the price she would pay if not careful.

“Now hold it steady,” he said in a warm honeyed voice, thick and seductively sweet.

Steady? How could she? “I'll try.”

The feel of him molded to her backside in all the right places had knocked her self-control for a loop, disturbed
the timbre of her voice. She sounded like a mouse and felt like a woman. A woman in dire straits, enveloped in the solid arms of a man-boy with too much charm and the means to make her tremble, which she did, but only slightly.

With Rio's assistance—help she didn't really need—she broke the balls, effectively scattering them over the green felt surface, the way her composure scattered in his presence.

Much to her disappointment, and relief, he straightened and moved away.

His grin was confident, distracting. “You don't have to call the pocket right now since you're getting reacquainted with the game.”

Joanna smiled to herself. Little did he know, the charade was now off and the competition on.

She leaned forward over the table, sensing Rio's scrutiny and trying hard to ignore it. If she didn't, she'd probably bounce the balls like ball bearings across the room with her first shot. “Twelve ball, corner pocket.” After she said it, she did it. And again and again. With little effort, she cleared the table of all the striped balls.

Feeling sassy and satisfied, she said, “Well, Doctor, do you want to take a shot now before I take on the eight ball? I'll be glad to let you.”

His smile looked sinister, and totally sexy. “You little sneak. Where'd you learn to play like that?”

“My dad.”

“He taught you well.”

“Yes, he did. As a matter of fact, he made a living at being a teacher. English teacher. So did my mom.”

“Do you two still play?”

“He died when I was in college.”

“I'm sorry.”

“So am I, but he led a full life. I only wish he'd known his grandson.” Joseph had been lacking a good male role model because of that fact, and his own father's apathy.

Rio laid his cue on the table, not bothering to take a shot. But he sure as heck was shooting holes in Joanna's resolve when he took the cue from her and laid it next to his then brushed his knuckles across her cheek. “Best I can recall, none of my teachers were pool sharks. But then, I don't remember any of their daughters looking like you, either.”

Joanna forced herself away and strolled to the end of the room near the large picture window. She came upon a train set, intricately detailed down to the tiny pines and miniature houses. She bent and studied the tunnel opening from the foot of a tree-dotted hill. “Joseph would love this. The train I gave him for Christmas is cheap plastic.”

She heard a
thwack
and glanced over her shoulder to find Rio dispensing the remainder of the balls into the pockets. His thermal shirt, pushed up at the sleeves, revealed his caramel skin threaded with masculine veins. His dark hair veiled his beautiful face when he leaned over, but it didn't matter. Joanna had practically memorized every detail.

He moved around the table and leaned over to make another shot. “I used to watch one setup from the window at a train shop when I was a kid.” He sent one ball into the pocket then straightened. “I waited a lot of years to have one of my own.”

Joanna turned back to the train to keep from staring at him. When she heard footsteps behind her, she didn't dare turn around. “Exactly how old are you, if you don't
mind me asking?” she said, aiming for something simple to say.

His hand came around her to push the control, setting the locomotive in motion along with her pulse. “Literally? Thirty-three.”

She concentrated on the engine billowing steam, the multicolored cars as the train made the rounds on the track. “And how old would you like to be?”

“That depends. When I'm in here, I'm thirteen again. In the outside world, I have to be the grown-up.”

“Well, I passed you up agewise last year.”

“You're only fourteen?” he asked, mock seriously.

She turned and smiled at him. “Ha, ha. Thirty-four. And a half.”

He inched a little closer, seeming to suck the air from the small space between them. “An older woman. Intriguing. You look much younger. Not fourteen, but I would've guessed under thirty.”

“Sometimes I feel ancient.”

He stroked a hand over her cheek while studying her flushed face. “You feel great.”

She was losing it, losing her will to resist him. Not a sensible thing to do, but rationality wasn't foremost on her mind at the moment. Rio was, with his penetrating eyes and a smile that certainly didn't belong on a boy. “So you don't like being the grown-up?” she asked.

“There's nothing wrong with being a man when the circumstance calls for it.”

He stopped the train now in mid-whistle, sending the room into silence. Then he pulled her flush against him and claimed her mouth with a kiss that could shake the tracks, the walls, shake Joanna into oblivion. It did. The gentle thrust of his tongue, the searing heat of his body, the strength of his steady hands as they traveled the
length of her back then came to rest on her hips, acted on her like a magic charm, a spell she couldn't escape if her very life depended on it.

She draped her arms around his neck and sent her hands through his silky dark hair to explore. The kiss deepened, wild and needy, hungry and desperate. Desire advanced and her concerns retreated. Under Rio Madrid's expert guidance, she forgot to be afraid to want.

Rio was suddenly moving, taking her with him, leading her to who knew where. Perhaps a dreamland of his own making, like the mythical god he had spoken of, a sun god creating a firebrand with his mouth moving softly yet firmly against hers. She instinctively knew that he could take her places she'd never been before, if she allowed him.

He spun her around and backed her up without breaking the kiss. The edge of a table nudged her hip, the pool table, she decided, not that it mattered. The only thing that mattered was Rio and what he was doing to her body and her brain.

His lips drifted down the column of her throat, leaving a wet tingling path in their wake. His hand came to rest on the placket of her blouse, causing Joanna's heart to beat in a crazy cadence. He slipped the buttons with ease, allowing a cool draft of air to caress her heated skin. But the heat came back when his lips floated over the rise of her breasts.

Joanna laid her hands on his bent head, lost in the feel of his mouth on her skin, the deep, damp heat settling between her thighs.

He lifted his head and studied her with a potent golden gaze.
“¿Me quiere usted?”

She couldn't deny that she wanted him. She wanted this, wanted more, even though she shouldn't. “Yes.”

“Diga mi nombre.”
He made the demand in a low, persuasive voice.

She understood the Spanish, but not his request. “What?”

“Say my name.”

Rio,
her mind shouted, but she feared forming the word in her mouth. If she dispensed with the formality, he would no longer be the elusive doctor. If she continued to allow this heavenly assault on her senses, this prelude to pleasure, he could very well be her lover. And once more, she would be vulnerable to a man who wasn't what she needed at all.

But she did need this physical contact, to be desired as a woman. To satisfy cravings that had long been missing from her life. To forget herself in the arms of a man whose name meant “river.” A man as seductive as dark waters, his lure a strong current promising to carry her away into uncharted territory.

She hesitated a moment longer, searching his eyes for a reason to stop. She saw only questions, then disappointment before he turned away from her.

Hands fisted at his sides, he muttered, “I promised myself I wouldn't do this.”

Joanna clasped her shirt closed. “Do what?”

“Push you.”

“You didn't push me. I let it happen.”

He finally turned to her. “You're not ready.”

She'd certainly felt ready. More than ready, and willing. “How can you say that?”

“Because you can't say my name. I'll be damned if I make love to a woman who calls me ‘doctor.'”

Her gaping shirt forgotten, she braced her hands on her hips. “
Rio.
There, I said it. Are you happy now?”

His gaze went to her exposed bra and a half smile
curled the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, you said it, but not like you meant it.”

He was driving her to distraction, making her insane. “I don't understand this at all.”

“You understand it. You won't acknowledge it.”

She redid her blouse with shaking fingers. “Forget it. This was a mistake anyway. All of it.”

“Is it,
mi amante?
”

Her eyes snapped from the buttons to him. “I'm not your lover, remember?”

His smile disappeared, making way for a look that could dissolve the pool table behind her. “You will be, Joanna. When you're ready.”

She hugged her arms to her middle. “You're mighty sure of yourself, aren't you?”

He folded his arms across his chest, his face an unreadable mask. “You can lie to yourself. You can pretend that nothing's going on between us. But I can't lie. I know how I feel when I'm holding you, and it's not just minor affection.”

Why, oh, why hadn't she stayed home New Year's Eve? Stayed in her wretched apartment? She'd been comfortable with her existence, her celibacy, her choices. Why did
he
have to come along and disrupt her life? Why him, of all people—a man who made her ache, made her want, made her realize she possessed desires beyond all bounds?

The shrill of the phone startled Joanna and caused her to physically jump.

Rio grabbed up the cordless phone. “Dr. Madrid.” He paced with his back to Joanna. After a time, he said, “Okay, I'm on my way.”

He replaced his phone on the charger and turned. “I've got to go into the hospital.”

Already she was missing him, and she hated that. “I thought you weren't on call.”

“I'm not, but this is a special case. First baby. She's sixteen, scared. Her boyfriend didn't stick around. She wants me to deliver.”

Her admiration for him increased more than she thought possible. “I guess she needs you.”

“Yeah. Nice to know someone does now and then.” He sounded almost sad, as alone as Joanna felt much of the time.

He stopped in the doorway. “Make yourself at home. There's a casserole in the fridge you can heat up for dinner. My housekeeper left it for me.”

“I'll make do.” She needed to say something, but she wasn't sure what. “Rio?” The word rolled easily off her tongue.

His smile appeared, slowly. A satisfied smile. “Yeah?”

“Since this is a first baby, you might be a while, so I just wanted to say good-night and thanks for everything. I hope you get some sleep.”

He braced one hip against the door frame and released a mirthless laugh. “Sleep? Not in a million years.”

J
oanna couldn't sleep. Maybe it was the strange house, the strange bed, the knowledge that she was all alone again.

Since retiring for the night, she had listened carefully for the sound of Rio's return but hadn't heard a thing, even from Gabby who was still outside, as far as she knew. Of course, Gabby didn't strike her as being much of a watchdog.

Joanna had gone to her room following a meager dinner of tuna casserole and an hour spent watching some inane sitcom. Now she sat in bed and tried to read materials to prepare for a continuing-education course she was due to take in the spring. She quickly abandoned that for a glitzy magazine heralding the breakups of rich and indulgent celebrities. Tiring of that, she tossed the magazine aside and stared at the ceiling.

Maybe if she took another shower, she might relax.
A hot bath… The hot tub? Well, that was an option. Since Rio was gone, she could hide away in there without notice. But what if he came home? Gabby would warn her, hopefully giving her enough time to sneak back inside.

Joanna rose from the bed and rummaged in the dresser for the only swimsuit she owned. It was black, basic, the only thing daring about it came in the form of sheer netting that covered the midriff but revealed little more than a hint of flesh.

After donning the suit, she retrieved an oversize towel from the linen closet and padded down the stairs. Just to be on the safe side, she tiptoed to Rio's room. The door was partially open and it creaked when she gave it a push. Her heart jumped, but thankfully she found the king-size bed still made, its owner absent. She took a chance and snapped on the light for a better look.

The bedroom was without embellishments, masculine, from the heavy pine bed covered in a black and gold spread to the posh tan carpeting. Several artifacts were set out on the tables in a small sitting area to her right, clay pots of every shape and size, a few polished stones, some small sculptures. On the wall over the black marble fireplace's mantel hung an odd-looking calendar sporting a moon, stars and the sun. Yet the enticing scent exclusive to Rio appealed to her most of all.

Feeling nervous over invading his privacy, Joanna retreated out of the room and started down the stairs and into the backyard. The night was moonless, cold, and she almost reconsidered, but she'd already come this far, no use turning back now. After her eyes adjusted to the limited light, she headed for the hot tub, pulling up short a few feet away when she caught sight of the dark, im
posing figure cast in shadows spilling across the water's surface.

Rio.

Joanna saw a chance at escape until Gabby whined from her perch on the ground near the steps that led to the tub. “Looks like you and I had the same idea.”

His deep voice stopped Joanna's departure, nearly stopped her heart. “I couldn't sleep, so I thought this might help me relax.” She was anything but relaxed at the moment. “But since you're—”

“There's plenty of room for us both.”

Even if the tub spanned the length of the yard, she doubted there would be enough room for her and Rio Madrid, together. Not if she wanted to keep her guard up, her head on straight and her clothes on.

“Join me,” he said in a seductive voice that promised untold pleasure. “The water's great.”

The water wasn't her main concern at the moment. Rio's unexpected presence was. Did she dare join him? She was afraid to move forward, afraid to move at all.

She could do this, act like an adult, not some flighty, smitten teenager. Stay for a little while. Only a little while.

Clasping the towel to her chest, she moved on sluggish legs. She managed the steps but couldn't manage to take her eyes off him once she reached the top. The darkness didn't allow her to make out much more than his shadowy form. Probably a good thing since she noted that his clothes were piled on the bench in the corner. All of them, she suspected.

Keeping the towel close to her body, she sat on the ledge opposite him and dangled her feet in the water. “Wow. This is much hotter than I realized.”

She saw a flash of white teeth. “The temperature just rose a few degrees, among other things.”

Don't look, Joanna.
But she did, and luckily she couldn't see anything much, not that she didn't really want to.

Then he reached behind him and snapped on the light. The jets whirred to life, setting a foaming mound of bubbles into action, along with Joanna's pulse.

She looked away, afraid she might see something she didn't need to see, namely all of Rio's body now reclined in one corner of the tub. Every fine detail.

“Are you going to get in, Joanna, or just sit there until you turn into an ice cube?”

She ventured a look in Rio's direction. His hands were stacked behind his head, his hair wet and much too sexy for words. She chafed her palms down her arms. “It is kind of chilly.” Chills that were a direct result of viewing his bare chest, his sultry smile.

“It's warm enough in here.” He gave her a lingering assessment. “Nice suit.”

She looked down, then back up again. “It's all I have.”

“I mean it, Joanna. It looks great on you.”

Searching for a switch of subjects, she asked, “How did the birth go?”

“Without a hitch. In fact she delivered in two hours. A healthy baby girl. A little underweight, but okay.”

“Then you've been in the hot tub all this time?”

A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Now if that were true, I'd be shriveled up like a prune. Believe me, I'm not.”

Again she wanted to look below the water's depths, find a break in the bubbles, find his tattoo and the ter
ritory beneath. But she forced her eyes to remain on his face. “How long have you been home?”

He dropped his arms and stroked one hand across his chest. Joanna couldn't help but imagine her own hand there. “Long enough to take a quick swim then get in here. I stayed at the hospital until she said goodbye to her daughter.”

“Said goodbye?”

“She's putting the baby up for adoption.”

Joanna's heart began to ache with that knowledge. Being without Joseph for the past few months had been devastating, and only a temporary situation. She couldn't begin to imagine how heartbreaking it would be to give up a child permanently. “I'm sure that was a difficult decision,” she said with a sigh.

“Yeah, but for the best. She wants to continue with school. She doesn't have any money since her parents kicked her out, but she's got a relative willing to take her in, as long as it's only her and not a child.”

“I hope they find a nice family for the baby.”

“I hope so, too. It's tough not being wanted.”

How odd that he would say such a thing since he'd spoken so fondly of his mother. How strange that he sounded so sad. “I wouldn't know.” At least not from a parental standpoint. On the other hand, she knew quite well how it felt not to be wanted by a husband. “Sounds like you might have had some experience with that.”

His sudden slight shift was the only thing that indicated his discomfort. “Oh, my mother wanted me, all right, until she married my stepfather.”

“You never mentioned him before.”

“I did. The colonel.”

“The man your mother worked for?”

“Yeah. And after they married, they sent me away to
boarding school. Expected me to conform, be what they wanted me to be, in his case, white. It wouldn't do for a decorated military man to have a poor multiracial brat running around, now, would it?”

The venom in his tone caused Joanna to flinch. “But his last name was Madrid.”

“No. It was Burlington. He adopted me, but I used my own father's name in med school. I had it legally changed back after the colonel's estate was settled.”

“I'm sorry that you had to live like that.”

“Well, at least I got all this in the deal.” He made a sweeping gesture around the area. “He left all his money to me, his ranch, which I sold the first chance I got. I didn't want to hang on to those memories.”

Again he had thrown her off balance with his revelations. He was more an enigma now than ever.

The strap on Joanna's swimsuit slipped off her shoulder. When she started to push it up, he said, “Leave it.”

For some reason she did, even though the falling strap pulled the neckline of the suit lower, exposing the top of her breast.

“Get in, Joanna,” he commanded in a deep, drugging voice. “I won't bite. Much.” He topped off the request with a wicked grin.

Joanna suspected it would take more energy than she owned to resist his pull. But she didn't have the desire to fight him any longer, at least at the moment. She could do this, keep her distance, remain focused and maintain a firm grip on reality.

Tossing her towel aside, she slipped into the welcoming water across from Rio. Her fair skin was cloaked in a translucent blue because of the tinted light. But Rio was dark and dangerous, the proverbial calm before the storm.

Tipping her head back, Joanna closed her eyes and tried to block out Rio's image.

A hand caught her wrist, prompting her eyes to snap open and her pulse to quicken. Slowly he pulled her forward then turned her until she came to rest between his thighs, her back to his chest.

“Relax,” he whispered. “I'm not going to hurt you.”

Oh, but he could, and quite sufficiently, at least from an emotional perspective. She couldn't think about that now, or worry about it, because her attention was drawn to something against her lower back. She didn't have to guess what that
something
was.

He rested his lips against her bare shoulder then worked his way up her neck. She shuddered at the sensations, trembled when he slipped the other strap down. He streaked his knuckles back and forth over the rise of her breasts. She wanted him to keep going, ached for him to keep going, but he didn't.

“Take it off,” he murmured. “You'll feel better.”

Abandoning good sense, Joanna slipped her arms out of the straps and tugged the bodice down, baring her breasts completely to his eyes, his hands. Yet he still didn't touch her, at least not intimately.

He did wrap his arms around her shoulders, his hands clasped together above her breasts. Joanna marveled at the contrasting colors of their skin—hers almost alabaster white, his the color of warm chocolate. Marveled at her sudden lack of inhibition, her indescribable need for his touch.

Her legs floated upward and so, it seemed, did her whole being. She waited for Rio to remove her suit completely but when he didn't, she worked it down and away and watched as it twisted into the current.

“Now that's more like it,” he said. “Don't you feel a sense of freedom?”

She did, and she also felt light-headed, uncontrolled and needy.

She looked back at him. His golden earring twinkled, his eyes a near match in color. His strong, sharp features delineated by the glow of the light bouncing from the water's surface mesmerized her, as did his lips outlined by the shadow of evening whiskers playing over his jaw.

He watched her for a long moment, waited for something but she wasn't sure what. He made no move to touch her intimately yet his eyes never left hers.

Unable to stand the suspense any longer, she palmed his jaw and brought his mouth to hers. He kissed her deeply, deliberately, with a steady glide of his tongue in a slow, seductive foray, back and forth until she lost all sense of time or place or purpose. A slight moan climbed up her throat and she tried to stop its progress. Honestly she did, but she couldn't. She also couldn't halt the cravings, the way he held her prisoner with his capable mouth. She felt the glide of his erection against her back as he pulled her closer to him, his hips lifting on the current. It was the most erotic moment she had ever experienced, knowing how close she was to giving him everything, finally acknowledging a sensual facet of herself that she had long ago learned to deny.

Yet when his hand drifted to her breast, Joanna tensed, a knee-jerk reaction she couldn't control.

He broke the kiss and rubbed his thumb over her lip. “Do you want this, Joanna?”

She tucked her head beneath his chin, turning her face into his neck, away from his questioning gaze. “Yes.”

She sensed he would treat her with consideration and care, with skill. And he did, with a light stroke on one
nipple, then the other. She melted against him and closed her eyes, immersed herself in his touch, the ripples of water flowing over her.

The night wrapped around her like a comforting mantle, as comforting as Rio's embrace, his sleek touch. Something inside Joanna broke away. Her caution, her concerns. All that mattered was him, the feelings he stirred within her, the undeniable passion, the yearning that was so foreign yet so welcome.

As if she'd totally detached herself from the lonely, celibate shell her life had been to this point, she laid her palm on his hand and guided it downward. He paused at her belly immediately below her navel, brushing his knuckles back and forth in a slow, torturous rhythm.

“Tell me what you want, Joanna,” he whispered.

She didn't want to think, or to consider what was about to happen. She wanted him, only him, and to be the woman that he desired. “Touch me.”

He sifted his fingertips through the tangle of curls between her thighs, then on to her susceptible flesh with a gentle yet unyielding caress. “Like this?”

“Yes.” The word hissed out on the wings of a broken breath.

His murmured sensual words danced around in her head as the bubbles danced over her body. His fingertip made gentle passes over places too long ignored then slipped deep inside her, slowly, deliberately.

The steam rose around her as Rio's touch swathed her in a heavy fog of desire. The pressure began to mount beneath his insistent strokes. So did the need to resist for fear of completely losing herself. But no matter how hard she tried to fight it, prolong its arrival, the climax came with the force of a tempest, sucking her breath from her lungs, her thoughts from her brain. Her pulse
throbbed in her ears, her body trembled. She felt weak, boneless, satisfied.