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