Nights of Passion: Mendez's Mistress / Bedded for the Italian's Pleasure / The Pregnancy Affair

CHAPTER SIX

RACHEL was typing a page of her novel for the umpteenth time when the phone rang.

‘Oh, great,’ she muttered broodingly, aware that the story wasn’t going as it should, and that her agent was probably ringing to check on its possible completion.

‘Yes?’ she said, the frustration evident in her voice.

And then she pulled a wry face when Evelyn Carlyle said tartly, ‘I’m sorry if I’m being a nuisance.’

‘Oh, of course you’re not.’ Rachel was contrite. Since Daisy had left for Florida over a week ago, her in-laws had been a constant source of support. ‘I thought it was Marcia. She’s been grumbling because I haven’t got the manuscript finished.’

‘Oh, I see.’ Evelyn sounded mollified. ‘I should have guessed. You looked tired yesterday. Aren’t you sleeping well?’

‘Well enough,’ said Rachel tersely, aware that it was the man who’d escorted her daughter to Florida, not her manuscript, that was disrupting her sleep. It didn’t help to know that, when he’d called on Howard and Evelyn as he’d promised Steve, they’d found him a very personable young man. Evelyn had even expressed the opinion that it was a pity Daisy wasn’t older, which had really set Rachel’s nerves on edge. ‘I just wish Daisy would keep in touch,’ she added now, but her mother-in-law was dismissive.

‘You know what girls are like. She’ll be enjoying herself and calling home will come very low on her list. Besides, Steve would have been on the phone if there was anything wrong.’

Was that supposed to reassure her? For once, Rachel wasn’t in the mood to see Daisy’s point of view. ‘All the same,’ she said tensely, ‘I think she could have made an effort to send me a postcard, at least. She sent me an email when she arrived, but that’s all.’

‘And you’re missing her. I know.’ Evelyn was more sympathetic. ‘And Howard and I are no substitute for your little girl. But she’s growing up, Rachel. She’ll be off to college before you know it. Visiting her father is probably a good thing. It will get you used to her being away.’

‘She’s only thirteen, Lynnie.’

Rachel couldn’t help defending herself, and the older woman sighed. ‘Yes. Yes, I know. But the years go by so quickly.’ She paused. ‘Anyway, didn’t you tell me you’d had a call from Paul Davis?’

Rachel sighed. Paul Davis was the man she used to work for before her writing career had taken off. After the divorce she’d had to get a full-time job to help support herself and Daisy, and Paul had been a good employer. The trouble was, he wanted to be more than that, and he’d taken to calling every few weeks to ask her how she was and, occasionally, ask her out.

And she had been tempted to accept his invitation recently, mostly to get Evelyn off her back. Not that her mother-in-law wanted her to get married again. She still nurtured hopes that she and Steve would get back together.

‘Yes, he rang,’ she said now, resignation setting in at the thought of what was coming next.

‘So why don’t you go out with him?’ Evelyn asked encouragingly. ‘He’s a nice young man, isn’t he? And you deserve some entertainment while Daisy’s away.’

‘He’s hardly young,’ said Rachel drily. ‘He’s fifty or thereabouts. And he’s never been married, Lynnie. He still lives with his widowed mother.’

‘Which shows how dependable he is,’ declared Evelyn firmly. ‘Come on, Rachel. When did you last have a date?’

Too long ago to remember, thought Rachel ruefully as the memory of that scene with Joe Mendez flashed back into her mind. Sometimes she wondered if that had all been a figment of her imagination too. There was no doubt that it had been an unlikely event.

But then she remembered the nights during the past week when she’d awakened to find her breasts taut and sensitive, and an ache twisting low in her stomach that wouldn’t go away. Sometimes she was soaked with sweat, too, her nightshirt clinging wetly to her aroused body. That wasn’t her imagination, she knew, and she’d found it very hard to get back to sleep.

‘Rachel!’

She’d been silent too long and Evelyn was getting impatient. ‘I’m here,’ she said. ‘I was just thinking, perhaps I should go out with Paul.’ Liar! ‘It may be just what I need.’ To get Joe Mendez out of her head.

‘Oh, good.’ Evelyn was pleased, evidently thinking her persuasion had worked. ‘Let me know what happens, won’t you, dear? Howard and I only have your best interests in mind.’

Rachel hung up the phone, wondering if agreeing to go out with Paul had been rather foolish. But she could hardly admit that the last time she’d slept with a man had been after the divorce papers had been delivered. Accepting an invitation to one of Julie Corbett’s parties as a way of getting out of the house had been stupid. Finding herself in Julie’s bedroom after one too many vodka martinis with a man she’d thankfully not seen either before or since had been downright stupid.

Fortunately she hadn’t been too drunk to ensure he’d used protection, but for weeks afterwards she’d worried in case it hadn’t been enough. Still, nothing untoward had happened, but it had been a sobering experience. One she’d vowed would never happen again.

Rachel bought a new outfit for her dinner date with Paul Davis. The low-cut crocheted top and skirt were a delicate shade of turquoise, and complemented the sun-streaked colour of her hair. The top also revealed a tantalising glimpse of cleavage, while the short skirt didn’t exaggerate the provocative curve of her hips. The slightly cropped top also skimmed her midriff, as she appreciated every time she moved and a draught of cooler air brushed against her skin.

But the date itself was a disaster. As Rachel realised halfway through the evening when Paul had talked of nothing but his vintage Jaguar, and the extensive model-railway he had laid out in his mother’s attic. She wished she’d asked Evelyn to ring her, to give her an escape if any was necessary. As it was, she could see the remainder of the evening stretching ahead of her without any relief from Paul’s hobbies.

She had just begun to say she didn’t want a dessert, in the hope of cutting the evening short, when her mobile phone started ringing. Knowing Evelyn’s penchant for gossip, she guessed her mother-in-law was impatient to hear how she was enjoying herself. Or perhaps she’d heard from Daisy, she thought, glad of any distraction. But when she heard Evelyn’s voice, she knew immediately that something was wrong.

‘Hello, Lynnie,’ she said, hoping she was mistaken. ‘This is a surprise.’

‘Oh, darling.’ Evelyn sounded unlike herself. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt your evening. Are you having a good time?’

Not really, thought Rachel. But she said, ‘It’s fine.’ She cast an unwilling glance in Paul’s direction. ‘What is it, Lynnie? Is something wrong?’

But she knew. Before Evelyn spoke, she felt an uneasy shiver slide down her spine. ‘I just thought you’d want to know, that’s all,’ said her mother-in-law as Rachel’s brain raced ahead to a dozen probable scenarios, all of them bad. ‘We’ve had a call from Steve.’

‘Steve?’ The fingers of apprehension tightened their hold around Rachel’s stomach. This must be something to do with Daisy, she thought. Was this why she hadn’t heard from her daughter recently? Oh God, she begged, please don’t let anything bad have happened to her.

‘Rachel!’ Paul was speaking to her now, and she looked at him with uncomprehending eyes. ‘The waiter wants to know what you’d like for dessert,’ he said impatiently. ‘He hasn’t got all night.’

Rachel blinked. ‘Not now,’ she told him unsteadily. Then, to Evelyn, ‘What is it? What’s happened? Is Daisy hurt?’

‘Not seriously, I’m sure.’ Evelyn sounded as if she half wished she hadn’t made the call now. ‘There’s been an accident.’

‘Rachel!’

It was Paul speaking to her again, but Rachel ignored him. ‘What kind of accident?’ she demanded raggedly. ‘When did it happen?’

‘Oh, I’m not sure. Yesterday, the day before—Steve didn’t say.’ Evelyn tried to calm her. ‘They were all out on Lauren’s father’s yacht, apparently. I don’t think it’s anything to worry about, but—’

Rachel sucked in a breath. She’d known. She’d positively known that Daisy would have been in touch if she could. ‘I’m coming home,’ she said. ‘Right now. I want to speak to Steve myself. I want to know exactly how it happened and why I wasn’t told at once.’

‘Um …’ There was something more, but Evelyn evidently thought better of telling her then. ‘Yes, perhaps you should come home,’ she agreed. ‘Then we can discuss all the details.’

Rachel wanted to say ‘What details?’ but it would be easier to wait until she could speak to her mother-in-law face to face. ‘I’ll be about twenty minutes.’

She closed her phone to find Paul staring at her disbelievingly. ‘What’s going on?’ he asked as she pushed back her chair. ‘You’re not leaving?’

‘I’m afraid I am.’ Rachel took a breath. ‘That was Steve’s mother. Daisy’s had an accident. I’ve got to go home so I can call her.’

Paul didn’t look pleased. ‘I’ll drive you,’ he said, but she could tell it was the last thing he wanted to do. He’d been enjoying his meal and, judging by his slight paunch, food played a large part in his enjoyment of life. Along with his car and model railway, of course.

‘There’s no need,’ she said now, gathering up her wrap from the back of her chair. ‘You finish your meal. I can get a taxi. Thanks for—for everything. I’ll probably see you later.’

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE British Airways flight to Miami had been due to land at three o’clock local time, but the airport was busy, and they’d had to circle the immediate area at least twice before being given permission to make an approach. Then, after landing, there were all the usual formalities to attend to, more thorough than ever now since the increase in terrorism, so that it was almost five o’clock when Rachel emerged into the arrivals hall.

She was tired. She’d hardly slept the night before and, although lots of her fellow passengers had slept during the long flight, she’d remained upright in her seat, replaying all she’d learned since Evelyn had rung her at the restaurant.

She’d arrived at the in-laws’ house prepared for the worst, and she hadn’t been disappointed. What Evelyn hadn’t told her on the phone was that Daisy was in a hospital in Palm Cove, which was about twelve miles from downtown Miami. She’d apparently fallen from the Johansens’ yacht and hit her head on the bathing platform as she’d gone into the water. Fortunately, one of the crew had realised something was wrong when she hadn’t surfaced and he’d dived in after her. He’d managed to bring Daisy back to the surface, but she’d swallowed a lot of water. She’d been unconscious when they’d pulled her back on board.

Rachel had been horrified. Her first thought had been, why hadn’t Steve noticed what had happened? But that hadn’t been a question Evelyn could answer. And Steve, when she’d finally tracked him down at the Johansens’ house, had been similarly obtuse. ‘She’s thirteen, for God’s sake,’ he’d snapped angrily. ‘She doesn’t need a nursemaid twenty-four-seven.’

Rachel had made no comment about this. She could have said that Daisy should have been wearing a life jacket, which she obviously hadn’t been; that, as she’d never been out on a yacht before, he might have taken the trouble to keep an eye on her. But she’d never had much success in arguments with Steve, and she hadn’t intended to try now. Instead she’d said, ‘I’d like to see her. Would you have any objections if I flew out and visited her myself?’

Steve had been surprisingly agreeable. ‘Why not?’ he’d said carelessly. ‘That’s why I rang the old lady. I knew you’d start clucking like a mother hen. If you want to come, I won’t stop you.’

As if he could, Rachel had thought grimly, but at least he couldn’t accuse her of acting without his knowledge. And when she’d come off the phone, Evelyn had confided that Steve had admitted that Daisy had been asking for her. That was why she’d taken the liberty of interrupting her date.

Now, dragging her suitcase behind her, Rachel made for the exit. The concourse was crowded and she was anticipating a lengthy wait for a taxi when someone caught her arm.

‘Rachel,’ a familiar voice said. ‘I thought I must have missed you.’

It was Joe Mendez, and Rachel stared at him with disbelieving eyes. ‘Joe!’ she exclaimed without thinking. And then, ‘I mean—Mr Mendez. What are you doing here?’

‘Didn’t I make myself clear?’ Joe gave her a rueful smile. ‘I came to meet you.’ He glanced down at her suitcase. ‘Is this all your luggage?’

‘I—yes, but—’

‘Good. Let’s go.’ He took the handle from her unresisting fingers. ‘We can talk in the car. It’s just outside.’

Rachel blinked. ‘Um—did Steve ask you to meet me?’

‘It was my decision,’ said Joe, steering her round a portly woman whose tight jeans emphasised her size. ‘Did you have a good journey?’

Rachel made some reply, but her mind wasn’t really on her words. He was the last person she’d expected to see at the airport—or anywhere else, for that matter. She’d found a modest hotel in Palm Cove and booked herself a room via the Internet. The hotel wasn’t far from the hospital, and it would be easy for her to visit Daisy without making any demands on anyone.

She certainly didn’t expect to spend any time with her exhusband. She’d accepted that they might run into one another at the hospital, but that was all. She was here for one reason and one reason only, and that was to see her daughter. At present, that was the only thing on her mind.

The humidity hit her as soon as they stepped out of the terminal. Until then, the air-conditioning had cushioned her from the oppressive heat outside. Heavy clouds hung over the airport buildings, dark and threatening, and a damp warmth moistened the skin at the back of her neck and sapped what little strength she had left.

A sleek black limousine idled in a no-waiting zone, and Joe headed straight for it, evidently expecting her to follow him. A uniformed chauffeur sprang out at their approach and swung open the rear doors of the car. Then, taking the suitcase Joe had been carrying, he flipped the boot lid and dropped the case inside.

Joe turned and for the first time she was able to take a proper look at him. In a tight-fitting black tee shirt and khaki cargo-shorts, he looked nothing like the CEO of a successful computer company that she knew him to be. Amazingly, his hair had grown a little in the week or so since she’d seen him, but there was the same shadow of stubble on his jawline.

‘D’ you want to get in?’ he suggested, taking charge of the door nearest to him, and Rachel decided not to argue at this time. Although he probably had dispensation to park his vehicle in the area primarily given over to hire cars and taxis, she didn’t want to be responsible for him earning a fine.

It was deliciously cool in the limousine, the soft leather giving luxuriously beneath her weight. There was enough room in front of her to stretch out full-length if she wanted to, and for the first time since leaving home she felt herself relax.

It didn’t last long. When Joe circled the car and swung in beside her, she stiffened automatically. She could smell his heat, and his maleness, and the front of his shirt was just the slightest bit damp, as if he’d been sweating.

His knee brushed her thigh as he lounged on the seat beside her, bare legs brown and muscular and liberally spread with dark hair. The hairs on his arms were dark too, and once again she could see the shadow of the tattoo that was almost hidden by the short sleeve of his shirt. He looked lean and powerful, and totally at ease.

And just like that her pulse quickened, and she felt a melting heat between her legs. Despite her worries about Daisy, her body had a will of its own. Her breathing grew shallow and she prayed he wouldn’t notice. Or if he did that he’d put it down to the suffocating heat outside.

‘Okay,’ he said as the chauffeur got behind the wheel and they started away from the kerb. ‘Did Steve fix you up with a hotel?’

Rachel moistened her lips and smoothed her damp palms over the knees of her cotton trousers. ‘I fixed myself up, actually,’ she said. ‘It’s just a small hotel. The Park Plaza; I believe it’s near the hospital.’

‘The Park Plaza?’ Joe’s brows drew together. ‘I don’t believe I know it.’ He leaned forward and addressed the chauffeur. ‘Have you heard of the Park Plaza hotel in Palm Cove, Luther?’ he asked, and the other man nodded.

‘Yes, sir,’ he said. ‘It’s on Spanish Avenue. Near the shopping mall.’

‘Oh, yeah.’ Joe seemed to recognise the location even if the hotel was unfamiliar to him. ‘Okay, head in that direction.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Luther acknowledged his instructions, and then Joe pressed a button in the arm of the door beside him and the privacy screen slid up between them and the chauffeur. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘I guess you’d like to know how Daisy is this afternoon?’ He paused, and when she widened her eyes he added, ‘I saw her myself earlier today, and she seems to be making steady progress.’

‘Thank God!’

Rachel’s response was heartfelt and Joe regarded her with sympathetic eyes. It couldn’t have been easy, he thought, learning that her daughter—who’d happened to be four thousand miles away at the time—had suffered a blow to the head that had needed specialist treatment. Joe himself, who’d been prepared, had been shocked when he’d seen the kid. Her face was covered in bruises and one of her eyes was almost completely closed.

‘So.’ Rachel knew she had to say something. ‘How did you come to meet me? I could have taken a cab, you know.’

‘Yeah.’ Joe shrugged. ‘And you could have been waiting a couple hours. I thought you might be glad to see a friendly face.’

‘Are you a friendly face?’ Rachel looked doubtful.

‘I thought so.’

Rachel caught the inner side of her lower lip between her teeth. ‘I suppose you’re hoping I’ll apologise. For—for what happened.’

‘Oh, yeah.’ Joe’s eyes widened. ‘And I’m expecting hell to freeze over any minute.’ He shook his head. ‘I could tell you I’m sorry, but that wouldn’t be true. I wanted to kiss you and I did.’ For a moment, his fingers skimmed sensually against her cheek. ‘I guess what you really want me to say is that it won’t happen again.’

Did she?

Rachel drew back automatically, but he’d already withdrawn his hand. Lounging on the seat beside her, he was like a predator at bay. Yet he didn’t scare her. She scared herself. Her skin was still prickling with the memory of his touch.

Knowing she had to say something, she chose a casual tone. ‘That would be good,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t like you to think I’d taken it too seriously.’ Although she had! ‘I’ve not exactly been celibate since my divorce.’

Joe regarded her through his lashes. Now why didn’t he believe her? he wondered. Her mouth had been hot, hotter than he’d ever imagined it would be, and her response had been all he’d wanted and more. God, if Daisy hadn’t been lurking upstairs, he didn’t know how far he might have taken it. He’d certainly been aching with the need to bury himself between her legs.

Yet, for all that, there’d been an innocence about the way she’d reacted that didn’t gel with the image she was trying to convey now. He had the feeling it was a long time since she’d felt the need to portray herself as an experienced woman. She was trying to be brash, trying to show he hadn’t scraped a nerve, but her eyes told an entirely different story. And he felt an almost overwhelming need to show her how wrong she was.

Big mistake.

‘Okay,’ he said, deciding to let it go for now, even if he was aware that he had a hard-on there was no way he was going to relieve. Thank heavens for baggy shorts, he thought wryly, adjusting his underwear. ‘So I guess you’d rather I hadn’t come to meet you, yeah?’

‘Oh … no.’ Rachel knew if she was going to carry this off she had to act naturally. ‘It was—it was very kind of you to put yourself out.’

‘I don’t look at it as putting myself out,’ said Joe firmly, though he had to ask himself why he’d been so eager to come. Steve had put him in the picture and he had been concerned for Daisy, naturally, but wanting to see Rachel again was something else. And he knew it.

Rachel turned her head and tried to concentrate on the view beyond the limousine’s windows. They were travelling along a wide road with tall trees growing on either side. On her right, beyond the belt of palms, the Atlantic reflected the overcast sky. Yet could it really be the Atlantic? It looked too placid to be the ocean.

The silence between them was pregnant with tension, and, forcing herself to relax, she said, ‘Do you live in Miami, Mr Mendez?’

‘It’s Joe,’ he amended mildly. Then, ‘It’s not my permanent address, no. But I have a condo out on Miami Beach that I use when I’m visiting the city.’

Rachel wanted to ask where his permanent address was, but it wasn’t anything to do with her. Nevertheless, remembering how impressed Daisy had been by the house she’d visited in London, she couldn’t prevent herself from saying, with unknowing wistfulness, ‘I expect you have a lot of homes.’