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“There are Dungeons in Chicago beyond your wildest imagination, my love.”
“I am not your love.” Alexis turned and faced the sexy Latino man and glanced at the one standing next to him.
“But you are,mi cariño,” he insisted. “Meet my colleague, Zane Moore.”
Alexis cast her eyes over Zane. She’d seen him around at work and even admired him occasionally as he’d strode past her in the hospital corridors. He was slightly taller than Rod, and slightly broader too. It shouldn’t be possible for muscles to ripple under a suit, but somehow his seemed to. The benefits of paying for good tailoring, Alexis reasoned. His dark hair was slightly curly and it fell over his forehead, giving him a boyish charm that made her melt a little inside.
“Aren’t you going to say hello, Alexis?” Rod said, elbowing her gently in the ribs to shake her out of her Zane-induced trance.
“Oh, yes. Hello, nice to meet you. I’ve seen you around the hospital, I think? I’m a doctor there. Well, you probably know that if you’ve seen me there too—the white coat tends to give it away. Anyway…”
Alexis was babbling. What was wrong with her? She’d always found Rod attractive, and their verbal sparring sessions had livened up many a quiet afternoon on the floors, but having Zane stand next to him somehow made the pair of them seem irresistible.
“Do introduce me to your friend, Alexis,” Rod needled, seemingly enjoying her awkwardness. His blazing amber eyes sparkled almost diabolically, and a sardonic grin slashed his handsome visage. He was far from the tallest man in the room—in fact, Serena may have been taller than him in heels—but his dominating aura was tangible.
“Ferdinand Rodriguez, and apparently, Zane Moore.” The pediatrician tried to pull herself together. Her seraphic azure eyes locked in fervent combat with their determined ones. “Meet Serena Richardson.”
“Ferdinand Ignacio Rodriguez-Eleodoro.” He broke the stare down to shake Serena’s hand.
The sound of his name in his accent ignited in Alexis’s belly.His initials spelled F.I.R.E.? How was that even possible?
“Mucho gusto, Señor Rodriguez-Eleodoro,” replied Serena politely in flawless Spanish.
“Call me Rod; everyone does.” He kissed the back of Serena’s hand, but his full attention had returned to Alexis, as had Zane’s. The men were clearly on a mission.
“Also known as Don Juan at the hospital,” Alexis hurled. “And he could sell ice to an Eskimo.”
“Talk the panties off a nun?” added Serena.
“I sure hope so,” he answered, tipping his head overtly at Alexis as he and Zane shared a look.
“Well, then,” Serena laughed, nonplussed. “If you three will excuse me, I will go powder my nose.” She gathered up her cheetah-print purse. “For the next two hours.”
“Make it twelve,” Rod threw after her as he turned to Alexis.
“We like to play with our victims before we devour them.”
Serena laughed. “I bet you do, Casanova and Casanova II.”
* * *
“So, you two peddle drugs in the evening as well?” Alexis ignored his racy comment.
She was mocking his employment as a pharmaceutical representative. “This is a fitting place to hawk your wares.”
“Actually,” Rod corrected her, “the BDSM crowd very rarely consumes drugs; illegal, prescription or otherwise.”
“Why is that, Mr. Rodriguez?”
Their hands brushed. Alexis’s pulse quickened.
“First of all, it’s too dangerous. All players need to be responsible, at all times—especially Doms. The dominant partner is exclusively responsible for the health and safety of the submissive partner.”
She snorted.
“What kind of a woman would play those games?” She shook her head as she took a seat upon a high, backless stool.
“A strong, intelligent, dominant woman who is employed in a position of high authority and supreme responsibility, day in and day out,” he answered. “A woman like a CEO, or a judge, or a neurosurgeon. She is in charge of everyone and everything all day long at work…”
