style="font-size:15px;"> “I’m fine. Really.”
“You’re shaking.”
“I’m cold.” She was also lying.
Stripping out of his jacket, he put it around her shoulders. It smelled like leather and the spicy scent that had washed over her sparked her fantasies, that one memorable night in his arms.
“Better?” he asked.
She was somewhat warmer, but not as warm as she’d been when he’d held her close to his side. “Much, but now you’re going to be cold.”
He rubbed a hand across his chest, covered only by a thin black T-shirt. “Don’t worry about me. I’m hot most of the time.”
Joanna had no answer for that, at least not a verbal one. Right now she was heating up fast in response.
“I take it you don’t own a car,” he said.
“I do, but it’s at home, broken down.” A perfect match for her apartment.
“Then I’ll take you home.”
At that moment, the bus pulled up to the curb, all squealing brakes and spewing fumes. “That’s not necessary. My ride’s here.”
Rio nodded toward the two thugs now boarding the vehicle. “You really want to do that?”
She looked at the bus, then back at him, unsure of which road to take. “Well, actually…”
He raised his hands, palms forward. “I promise I’ll keep my hands on the steering wheel. You’ll be safe with me.”
Joanna didn’t feel at all safe with him, not that he presented a physical threat, or at least the kind that the seedy jerks had posed. But there was something very dangerous about Rio Madrid, the kind of danger that a woman could easily take pleasure in. The kind Joanna would be smart to avoid.
She also didn’t like the thought of him seeing where she lived, a crime-ridden neighborhood on the far side of town. But more so, Joanna hated the prospect of getting on the bus with two questionable characters, so she found herself saying, “Yes, if it’s not too much trouble.”
This time Rio’s grin came full force, a sensual explosion. “No trouble at all.”
If only Joanna could believe that she wasn’t borrowing more trouble with Dr. Rio Madrid.
Rio took the narrow streets slowly, surprised by the place Joanna Blake called home. Not that he hadn’t seen its kind before. Every town had one, an area full of lost souls caught in the throes of poverty. Not only had he seen it, he’d lived it until he’d turned fifteen. By that time good fortune had played a part in his future and he’d moved up in the world—a world he’d never quite fit into.
He passed the rows of rickety apartments and small clapboard houses, noting a lot of activity on the streets, and none that looked within the law. Probably a lot of drug deals going down, gunrunning, all kinds of dangerous happenings—things the woman beside him should never have to be exposed to.
He sent a quick glance in Joanna’s direction. “Do you live alone?”
She continued to stare straight ahead. “Yes, I do.”
He wondered about the boy in the picture. Maybe he’d been wrong. “No kids?”
“Actually, I have a son.”
As he’d suspected. “But he doesn’t live with you?”
“No.”
Rio’s curiosity got the best of him. “He lives with his dad?”
“No. He’s with my mom in the Texas Panhandle.”
“That’s a long way from here.”
“Yes, but I don’t have a choice at the moment.”
Rio hated the pain in her voice. “Why not?”
She sighed, an impatient one. “Just look at where I live. It’s not fit for most adults, much less a child.”
“Then why don’t you move in with your mother?” As if that were any of his business.
She shrugged and continued to stare out the windshield. “I wish I could, but I can’t. There are almost no job opportunities in my hometown. I have a lot of debts, and working in a larger city gives me more pay. I’m hoping to get back on my feet this year, find a better place to live so I can move my son back here with me.” She sat forward and pointed. “Up that next alley. You can park beside my car. It’s the ugly white one.”
Rio turned the truck up the potholed pavement and to the space next to the car she’d indicated. Behind them sat a brown brick building, three floors high, shutters hanging out of kilter from windows covered by burglar bars. The scraggly lawn was littered with debris and so was the alley, with several old tires stacked against the building among broken beer bottles.
“Welcome to paradise,” Joanna said as she opened the door.
Rio got out and encountered something hard beneath his foot. He looked down to find a used syringe under the toe of his boot, thankful he’d stepped on the plastic, not the needle. Kicking it aside, he walked to her car.
“What’s wrong with it?” he asked.
She hung back at the front of his truck. “I don’t know. It won’t turn over.”
“Pop the hood.”
“What?”
“Pop the hood. I’ll take a look.”
Reluctantly she withdrew her keys and unlocked the car door, then slipped inside and tripped the release. Rio lifted the hood but the muted rays coming from the guard light didn’t afford him enough illumination.
Joanna joined him at the hood and leaned over the engine beside him. Having her so near didn’t help his concentration. “I can’t see,” he said. “I need a flashlight.”
“I don’t have one in the car.”
Their arms brushed and Rio nearly bumped his head when he straightened. “You should always carry a flashlight. I keep one in the truck.”
“I suppose you’re always prepared.”
He grinned. “Always. With everything.” Except he hadn’t been prepared for her, especially not his immediate reaction when she stood so close, or his need to kiss her once more. But he wouldn’t. Not now.
Glancing over his shoulder at the apartment building, he asked, “Which one is yours?”
“Second floor. Apartment 202.”
He braced his hands on the edge of the engine and leaned into them. “Tell you what. You go on up and make some coffee and I’ll see if I can tell what’s wrong here.”
“You
