The Millionaire's Cinderella. Anne Marie Winston

angry. Concerned.”

      Joanna moved closer, once again jump-starting his awareness of her—the way she smelled, the way he knew she would feel beneath him. “Rio, I promise she’ll be fine. The pregnancy is going very well, right?”

      “Right.” He couldn’t disregard his apprehension any more than he could disregard his desire for Joanna Blake. He centered his gaze back on the TV, away from her assessment. “But anything could happen.”

      “Or nothing could happen aside from the birth of a healthy baby. You and I both know that.”

      He could feel her staring at him, dissecting him. Right now he was just too damn tired to discuss this. Wound too tight to think about anything other than escaping before he released all his frustration by taking Joanna into his arms to try a little sensual persuasion. “Just promise me that if something does come up, you’ll bring her to the hospital.”

      “I’ll call you if something happens, but I seriously doubt it will.”

      “Fine.” He came to his feet only then realizing the extent of his exhaustion. He might as well be wearing concrete shoes, he decided as he headed toward the kitchen. At least his body had calmed somewhat.

      “Rio.”

      Joanna’s smooth, soothing voice turned him around, teased his libido awake again. “Yeah.”

      “You know, you could still be present for the birth if you’d like.”

      “No, thanks.”

      She frowned. “I hope one day you’ll trust me enough to tell me what happened that made you so opposed to nonhospital births.”

      “Nothing happened.” Except he’d watched a young woman die when he was barely old enough to watch that same woman give birth. “Just consider me overly cautious.”

      “Are you going to your room?”

      Not such an appealing thought without her accompanying him. “I’m going to grab the paper and have some coffee first.”

      “Then I need to ask a favor.”

      He could think of several favors he’d like to provide for her, even dead tired. “Shoot.”

      “Do you mind if I use your shower? I won’t take long.”

      “No problem.” It was a problem, at least for Rio. Knowing Joanna was in his shower—naked and wet— would prevent him from sleeping at all should he decide to grab a quick nap in his bedroom. But that wouldn’t keep him from honoring her request. In fact, he was beginning to think he might have a damn hard time refusing her anything.

      She wasn’t alone.

      Through the mist clinging to the transparent shower door, Joanna saw Rio leaning against the bathroom entry, his arms folded over his bare chest with one hip cocked against the frame. His stance seemed surprisingly relaxed, as if watching her bathe was a part of his daily routine. Joanna was not the least bit relaxed, nor had she been since she’d come upon him in the den cloaked in firelight with his jeans undone to reveal a partial glimpse of the tattoo. And below that, strong evidence that he was aroused. So had she been at that moment. So was she now.

      Yet she wasn’t exactly surprised by his presence.

      After all, this was his private domain and she had left the door partially ajar to keep the bath from steaming up. Or so she’d told herself. In reality, in an inexplicable place buried deep within her psyche, she’d secretly hoped that he would venture inside. Silently yearned for him to shed his clothes, his resistance, and join her for some more water play.

      Instead, he continued to stand and stare, and Joanna continued to slowly lather her body with the same soap she had detected on his skin on more than one occasion, as if unaware of his presence.

      The simple act of showering took on a whole new meaning. With every stroke over her slick flesh, she imagined his skilled hand there. With every pass over her breasts, she remembered his impassioned touch. With every random tick of her pulse, an all-consuming heat assailed the very core of her. Joanna’s head began to whirl with possibilities and her body reeled when she considered where this might lead.

      Obviously nowhere, she soon realized after she’d finished washing and he still hadn’t made a move. Not even an inch. Maybe he found her figure lacking. Maybe he didn’t appreciate the faint stretch marks on her upper thighs, the slight roundness of her belly, the fullness of her hips.

      But he’d seen all those details in the hot tub and that hadn’t stopped him then. Something was definitely stopping him now.

      Resigned that he wasn’t going to do anything but gawk, Joanna turned off the spray, pushed open the shower door and grabbed for the bulky black towel hanging on the rack to her left. She dried herself slowly, still very much aware that he continued to study her. But she didn’t dare look at him, not yet. Not until after she had her feet firmly planted on the woven mat outside the shower and her robe covering her completely.

      Though she felt self-conscious, Joanna affected casualness as she raised her eyes from where she’d cinched the robe’s tie loosely around her waist. She met his gaze, dark and intense and oh so seductive. “Did I take too long?” Her voice sounded remarkably nonchalant.

      “Not at all.” His voice sounded impossibly deep and rough.

      “I’ll be out of your way in a minute,” she said. “Just let me run a quick brush through my hair.”

      After taking a seat before the vanity, Joanna combed through her unruly curls, not seeing much of anything but Rio’s reflection in the wide mirror. His expression remained guarded, still as dispassionate as it had been while he’d watched her bathe, but his eyes belied that appearance of calm and control. They looked dark and disturbed. Very disturbed.

      She pivoted on the backless stool to face him with brush in hand and he gave her a slow visual once-over, pausing at her feet. “Your leg’s bleeding,” he said with a hint of concern.

      Joanna sent a quick look down and noticed a thin trail of red oozing from a small cut on her ankle. Great. If she didn’t do something about it soon, she would bleed all over the nice beige carpet. “Sorry. I didn’t notice.” Actually, she had been vaguely aware of the nick while shaving her legs, but the sharp sting had been no match for the mind-numbing ache for Rio’s complete attention. It still wasn’t.

      Reaching behind her, she laid down the brush, snapped a tissue from the holder on the counter and dabbed at the cut.

      Without speaking, Rio pushed away from the door and strode toward her, causing her breath to hitch and her heart to leap. He bent and opened the bottom drawer to her left, and as he rummaged through the contents, several items drew Joanna’s attention, one in particular. A box of condoms. An industrial-size box.

      Rio pushed the box aside, withdrew a bandage and ripped it open then tossed the wrapping into the nearby wastebasket. His mouth formed a grim line as he slammed the drawer and stood in front of her. Joanna expected him to hand her the bandage but instead, he knelt and propped her foot on his leg. She couldn’t disregard the fact that she was sitting on a stool wearing only a knee-length pink terry robe with her foot balanced on his taut thigh and her heart lodged in her dry throat. Goose bumps covered her entire body despite the warmth of the bathroom or Rio’s heat-inducing gaze now centered on her eyes.

      After he gently applied the bandage, Joanna assumed he would stand and leave. But he remained motionless, as if awaiting some sort of response. Joanna supposed she should express her gratitude, verbally thank him, but she couldn’t seem to get a handle on her words when he began to brush his thumb over her instep in a maddening rhythm that put her senses on high alert.

      Rio continued to silently regard Joanna, the tension as thick as the vapor that had risen from the shower. She had no idea what he was waiting for but she suspected it might be some kind of signal from her, something that indicated she wanted him to act on the electricity arcing between them, and no