LITMIR.BIZ

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had never made sense. Now, perhaps, it did. He’d wanted her beyond bearing and he’d heard gossip that they were related. She couldn’t help wondering if her mother had anything to do with that gossip. Then she swept aside the suspicion. The mother she loved would never have been that cruel, even to save her daughter’s innocence. Of that she was certain.

      Perhaps K.C. had told Rourke something. He seemed to like Clarisse, but perhaps he had someone else in mind for his employee—or his son, some people said. Rourke and K.C. were so alike that she’d wondered for years if they weren’t related.

      Well, it didn’t matter now. Rourke was not going to take her to bed and walk away. Whatever she had to do to protect herself, even if it meant marrying Ruy, she would do.

      She loved Rourke far too much. She’d just gone on the endangered list, if he’d meant what he said. So she had to start making plans. She didn’t love the Manaus physician, but he was kind and she could live with him as long as there were no physical demands. It would protect her from Rourke, who would never coerce a woman into forsaking her marriage vows. He was quite old-fashioned in that sense. There had never been a single instance when he’d been seen with a married woman, not even one who was separated from her husband. He was, in his own way, something of a Puritan.

      Besides all that, she thought that it had just been the alcohol talking. Rourke had been very inebriated. Probably he was just teasing her, as he had for years.

      * * *

      She thought that until she answered a knock at the door that evening and found an amused, blond man leaning on the door frame facing her.

      She caught her breath.

      “And you thought I didn’t mean it,” he mused, smiling through bloodshot eyes. “Come dancing, Tat.”

      She was all at sea. “We danced last night,” she began.

      He smiled. “There’s a Latin Club in town. It just opened.” He leaned toward her. “I can do the tango.”

      She flushed. It was her favorite dance. She’d been dancing it with a handsome Latin at a club in Osaka, Japan, one night when she’d gone to a society wedding to which Rourke was also invited. The club was where the crowd had gone for supper after a rehearsal dinner. Rourke had shown up there with a date. He hadn’t danced with Clarisse, of course; he was his usual mocking, sarcastic self. But he drew his date onto the dance floor and Clarisse watched with wide-eyed wonder as he held the audience enthralled with his skill. She thought she’d never seen anyone dance like that in her life. He hadn’t said a single word to Clarisse, much less danced with her.

      “Come on. Give in,” he teased. “You know you want to.”

      “I was going to watch television...”

      “Put on something sexy and come dancing. You can watch television when you’re alone.”

      She opened the door, with obvious apprehension. “I’ll have to get dressed.”

      He tilted her face up to his with a thumb under her chin. His expression was very solemn. “I’ll make you a promise, Tat. I won’t touch you, in any way, until you tell me you want me to.”

      She colored. “That’s new.”

      “Isn’t it?”

      “I’ll get dressed,” she said.

      * * *

      She came back into the living room dressed in a black cocktail dress with sequins around the hem, with strappy tango shoes and carrying a small black purse.

      “Leave the purse here,” he said, smiling at the picture she made. “I’ve got money.”

      “Okay.” She tossed it onto the side table. “Oh, my house key...”

      She dug it out and looked at herself. The dress fit closely and there were no pockets.

      He took the key from her and slid it into the expensive slacks he was wearing with a black silk shirt open at the neck and an expensive dark jacket.

      His fingers linked into hers. “Do you mind?” he asked softly.

      She tingled all over. “No,” she faltered. “It’s all right.”

      He smiled and led her to a stretch limousine that she hadn’t even noticed in her excitement.

      “Oh, it’s Domingo, isn’t it?” she exclaimed when the driver got out to open the back door for them. “How is your family? Your daughter...?”

      “Doing very well, thanks to you, senhorita,” he said with feeling. “I am happy to see you again!”

      She grinned at him and let Rourke ease her into the seat.

      “Where are we going?” Domingo asked when he climbed in under the wheel.

      “El Jinete,” he said, laughing. “An Argentina native runs it. We’re going to teach the locals how to tango.”

      “Ah, such a dance,” Domingo said with feeling. “My mother is from Argentina, you know. She and my father, they danced it together. Not like these silly movies you see...”

      Which brought up another subject of conversation, and that took them all the way into Manaus.

      * * *

      The Latin club was decorated with images of flamenco and furnishings that were reminiscent of both Spain and Latin America.

      A young woman wearing a red flamenco dress escorted them to a table near the dance floor and left menus with them.

      “They serve food, too,” Rourke said with a grin. “I’m starving!”

      She laughed. “Me, too,” she confessed.

      They had seafood salads followed by a fruity dessert and coffee.

      “I’ve almost forgotten how to dance,” she confessed when he took her onto the dance floor.

      “So have I,” he replied. He was remembering the club in Osaka and the hurt look on Clarisse’s face. “I got drunk after you left the club that night in Osaka.”

      “Wh...what?” she faltered.

      He drew her against him. “Do you think I enjoyed hurting you?” he asked huskily. He averted his gaze to the far wall. “I was scared to death to let you get this close.”

      She was fascinated by his expression.

      He looked down at her hungrily. “You’ve never been much good at hiding how you feel, Tat,” he said as he began to move her to the lazy, seductive rhythm. “It was a very good thing that I’d had so much to drink last night.”

      She flushed and lowered her gaze to his throat.

      “Of course, I was still capable,” he mused, and laughed when she stiffened. He hugged her close, with rough affection. “I don’t deserve it. But I feel ten feet tall.”

      “You do? Why?”

      His mouth teased her ear. “Because you’re still a virgin, Tat.”

      His arm brought her closer as he turned her.

      “Couldn’t you, with another man?” he asked.

      She swallowed. “You’re a hard act to follow,” she managed.

      His chest rose and fell a little unsteadily. “If your mother had waited another ten minutes to come back home...”

      “I’d have gotten pregnant, most likely,” she interrupted him. “That would have been the end of the world, for you.”

      “Why?” He lifted his head and looked into her wide eyes. “I love kids, Tat. So do you.” He smiled. “I remember you giving a bottle to that little boy at the refugee camp,” he said. “It was so poignant that I had to grit my teeth to keep from reaching for you, all the way to the airport.”

      He

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