The Millionaire's Cinderella: Renegade Millionaire / Billionaire Bachelors: Gray / Her Convenient Millionaire
you were considering an epidural, and you know we don’t provide that here.”
“I’m sure. And I’m no longer worried about the pain aspect because I know you’ll be with me through the whole thing. To be honest, there are other reasons why I don’t want to have this baby at Memorial.”
Joanna frowned. “You’re not obligated to tell me, but does this have something to do with the baby’s father?”
Allison’s gaze faltered. “You could say that, but I’d rather not say anything more.”
“I understand.” Obviously the father worked at the hospital. Joanna briefly wondered if maybe he was married. Such a shame if that were true, but she had a hard time believing Allison would fall into that trap. However, Joanna knew all too well how persuasive men could be, as well as deceptive. “Would you like me to tell Dr. Madrid about your decision?”
Allison frowned. “In all fairness, I need to tell him myself, but if you could just sort of pave the way so he won’t be quite as shocked.”
“No problem,” she said, although she didn’t exactly relish the idea. “I’ll mention it to him tonight.”
“Tonight?”
Oh, heavens, how was she going to get out of this one? “Uh, well, yes. If I see him tonight. For some reason. That’s possible, if there’s some reason for seeing him.” Wow, Joanna. That sounded really coherent.
Allison sent her a knowing smile. “I think the midwife doth protest too much.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Is he as good as he looks?”
Right on cue, heat rushed from Joanna’s neck to her scalp. “I wouldn’t know.” Not that she didn’t want to know. Actually she did know on a limited basis.
“Are you sure?”
She was sure about one thing—she needed to end this conversation now. After a quick glance at the clock, Joanna said, “Oh, look. It’s time for my next patient.”
Allison rose from the chair with a grace Joanna had always longed for and started toward the door. “Okay, Nurse Blake, I’m not going to bug you since we’re all entitled to our little secrets.” She circled her slender fingers around the doorknob and turned to Joanna with a wily grin. “But as soon as you find out how good the doctor really is, be sure to let me in on it.”
With that she breezed out the door, and Joanna resisted the urge to throw water on her face to cool the sudden heat.
Water. Soothing warm water, bubbles twirling over her body, gentle fingers dancing over tender flesh…
Joanna slapped her palms to her cheeks as if she could jar the memories from her mind.
Darn Rio Madrid. When she did see him again, she would make it a point to mention Allison Cartwright. And she’d make it quite clear that the game was up, she didn’t want to play, so he’d best keep his distance.
Now if she only remembered to keep hers.
Six
After two lengthy deliveries, Rio arrived home early Friday morning slightly before dawn. He built a fire in the den, stripped off his shirt and collapsed onto the sofa with Gabby.
Since Joanna had moved in with him two weeks ago, he’d barely seen her due to their conflicting schedules, at least not as much as he’d wanted. They had shared dinner a few nights, and he did have to admit that he’d greatly enjoyed the meals she’d prepared, their casual conversations, and definitely the way she always made him smile with some amusing story about her son. He appreciated the fact that she really listened to him when he’d had a particularly tough day, appreciated their shared concern for their patients. Yet he’d sensed the discomfort those times when—unable to resist—he’d done nothing more than reach out and touch her face or her hand.
She should consider herself lucky, Rio decided. He’d wanted to touch her elsewhere, kiss her everywhere. He’d fought to keep his hands to himself, battled to keep from coming up behind her while she’d stood at the stove cooking, wanting badly to turn up the heat by slipping his hand inside the baggy sweatpants she tended to wear after business hours, to make her react the way she had in the hot tub. But he’d decided to stick to his guns and wait for her to make the next move, even if it was killing him to do so.
Thoughts of making love to her—really making love to her—made him brick hard, made him want to groan with frustration. He lowered his fly an inch to provide some relief, but it didn’t help all that much. Only one thing would alleviate the problem, and she was upstairs, fast asleep.
After yanking the band from his hair, Rio tipped his head back against the leather sofa and propped his feet on the coffee table. With Gabby curled up next to him, he flipped on the TV with the remote and settled for some infomercial hawking a miracle cleaner. Normally he would try to find something more entertaining, or at least something that might put him to sleep, at least for an hour or so before he had to return to the hospital to make his morning rounds.
Right now his thoughts centered on Joanna, on the fact that she was upstairs in bed, alone, and he was on the couch, hurting like hell from wanting her. From wanting to touch her again, only this time with his mouth as well as his hands. From needing to be inside her with an urgency as unfamiliar as having a woman living with him. A woman he wanted way too much.
But he’d been dead serious when he’d told her that he wasn’t going to make love to her until she came to him. It needed to be a conscious decision, not duress, that brought her to his bed. She had to make up her mind that she was willing to enter into a relationship that might never be more than two people enjoying intimacy.
He wished he could offer her more, but he wasn’t sure he could. An integral part of him feared the loss of freedom since he’d given up so many liberties in his life-time. But more important, he wasn’t certain he was cut out for marriage or fatherhood; his own example had been anything but satisfactory.
At times he had considered settling into that role, yet he’d never found a woman who’d encouraged the kind of feelings that led to a serious commitment.
Except for the woman upstairs. Maybe that’s why having Joanna Blake in his life was beginning to scare the hell out of him. And as bad as he hated to admit it, his burgeoning feelings for her did alarm him on a very distinct level. He’d mistakenly thought he could handle it. Handle having her here yet not having her completely. He didn’t like his weakness, nor did he want to act on his desire unless he knew for certain she was willing to accept the terms. But he wasn’t sure how long he could remain strong in her presence—emotionally and physically.
Gabby whined, cocked her head to one side and stared at the doorway from the entry. Rio looked over his shoulder to see Joanna’s form cast in a mix of gold and silver light coming from the TV and the fire. She trudged into the room wearing a thigh-length flannel nightshirt and a pair of baggy socks, her hair a tangle of curls. She was a mess, and Rio couldn’t remember ever wanting someone as much as he wanted her at that moment.
His body had begun to calm a few moments before only to be brought back to life by her sudden appearance. If he were any kind of gentleman, he’d grab a throw pillow and shove it on his lap to hide his current predicament. But from the looks of Joanna’s sleepy expression, he doubted she’d notice.
After Joanna settled into the oversize club chair cattycorner from the couch, he asked, “What are you doing up so early?”
When he unconsciously rubbed a hand over his bare chest, her gaze followed the movement, continuing to his abdomen and lower, where his jeans were partially undone, serving to make him even more uncomfortable.
“What are you doing…up?” She jerked her gaze back to the television.
Rio almost laughed—a pain-filled, joyless laugh. Instead, he laced his hands behind his head and released a slow, even breath in an effort to conceal his uneasiness. “I haven’t been to bed yet. In fact, I just got home. Busy night so I’m still