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

CHAPTER NINE

JOE stood at the windows of his condo, looking out at the angry waves crashing against the shore. Although the rain had gone, the wind had picked up in its absence, bending the palms that lined Ocean Drive, and causing the few pedestrians to stay out of reach of the blowing sand.

It was almost dark, and he hadn’t even started to get ready for the reception he was due to attend in South Beach. The painter son of one of Macrosystems’ directors was having his first showing in one of the art deco galleries on Lenox Avenue, and Joe had accepted an invitation more out of respect for the father than the son.

Of course, when he’d first heard about the showing, he hadn’t had any inkling that other matters might be occupying his mind—or that the woman he’d tried his damnedest to forget would have come back into his life. How could he have known that Daisy would have an accident so serious that her father would have to contact her mother? And why, when he’d learned that Steve was making no arrangements to meet his ex-wife, had he decided to get involved? Rachel wasn’t his concern, damn it. So why did he feel as if she was?

It was time he put the Carlyles and their problems behind him. For this evening, at least. Tomorrow, he intended to speak to Steve and find out why the hell he hadn’t been honest with Daisy’s mother. He’d have allowed his ex-wife to arrive in Miami without even knowing where her daughter was being treated.

But it still wasn’t his problem, he reminded himself irritably, turning away from the windows and surveying the lamplit room behind him. Pale wood and terracotta-coloured furnishings gave the huge room a stark simplicity, the space maximised by carefully chosen articles of furniture that offered comfort without dwarfing their surroundings.

The penthouse living space had windows on two sides, and leather-seated chairs surrounding an Italian marble-topped table occupied the other embrasure. It provided an intimate dining area, useful when his guests were small in number, but this evening he found no pleasure in his possessions. He was impatient and on edge, unsure why he hadn’t waited at the hospital. He’d wanted to, God knew, but things were getting far too heavy. He’d always been in command of his relationships before, but where Rachel was concerned it was a whole new ball game.

And he didn’t like it.

The sound of the intercom penetrated his grim introspection, and seconds later his housekeeper came to ask if he was at home to a Mr Carlyle.

‘You did say Mr Carlyle?’ he asked sharply, and in spite of what he’d been telling himself just a moment ago the idea that Rachel might have found out where he lived caused his blood to pump hotly through his veins. After all, Marla was Mexican, and her English wasn’t always perfect.

‘Mr Carlyle, yes,’ she repeated, her brown eyes bright with enquiry. ‘You will see him, yes?’

Joe glanced at his watch. He had precisely forty minutes before he was due at the gallery. A quick shower—he ran his hands over the stubble on his jawline and decided he could do without a shave—and a clean shirt and trousers and he would be ready. At least people didn’t dress up for these occasions. There’d be punks there in tie-dyed tee shirts and shorts.

‘Okay,’ he said now. He’d welcome the chance to tell Steve how he felt about the way he’d treated Rachel. Though maybe not tonight, he mused, revising his opinion. It might look as if he had a personal interest.

‘Yes, sir.’

Marla departed to let Steve in, and Joe walked across to the bar to help himself to a Scotch over ice. He grimaced. Charles always said that he ruined a perfectly good whisky that way, but Charles wasn’t here, and that was the way his father always took it.

There were voices in the foyer—women’s voices, he realised—and he felt a surge of irritation when Marla showed both Steve and Lauren Carlyle into the room. Had Steve brought his wife deliberately, hoping Joe wouldn’t say anything controversial if Lauren was present? Their friendship had been sorely tested recently, what with the lies Steve had told about his age and Joe’s suspicion that Rachel was not the manipulative bitch her ex-husband had always claimed.

‘Hey, Joe!’ Steve came into the room with an air of phony confidence, holding out his hand towards the other man as if certain of his welcome despite Joe’s expression. ‘How are you?’

Joe shook hands with some reluctance, accepting the kiss Lauren bestowed on either cheek without response. Her hands clutched his arms, and she took the opportunity to press her scantily clad breasts against his chest as she did so. It wasn’t the first time she’d come on to him in this way, and he was well aware of what she was trying to do.

He wondered fleetingly if Steve had put her up to it. Was he prepared to turn a blind eye to Lauren’s indiscretions if it ensured his advancement at Mendez Macrosystems? It was a cynical thought, and one Joe wouldn’t have considered a couple of weeks ago. But meeting Rachel and Daisy had changed his opinion of Steve’s character.

‘I hope you don’t mind us turning up like this,’ Steve was saying now as Lauren returned to slide a sinuous hand under her husband’s arm. ‘I just wanted to thank you for meeting Rachel at the airport.’

Joe swallowed a mouthful of his Scotch before saying, ‘How did you know I went to the airport?’ He crossed to the bar to refresh his drink and held up his glass enquiringly.

‘Oh.’ Steve’s colour had deepened a little. ‘Nothing for me, thanks.’ Then, after Lauren had asked for a glass of white wine, he continued, ‘Bill Napier told me where you were. I’d heard you were in the office today, and I wanted to tell you how much I appreciate you visiting Daisy.’ He pulled a wry face. ‘When I heard you’d gone to pick up Rachel, I had to come and thank you. I mean, it’s not as if she needed to make the trip.’

‘You don’t think so?’

Joe handed Lauren her wine and regarded the other man over the rim of his glass. Sensing some tension here, Lauren said quickly, ‘What Steve means is that Rachel has never trusted us to look after Daisy properly. You can’t imagine how galling that is, particularly as he’s been denied a father’s rights for years.’

Joe arched a quizzical brow. ‘Daisy did have an accident,’ he reminded her, and Lauren met his gaze with an appealing look.

‘You’re surely not blaming Steve for that?’ she protested in a little-girl voice, pouting in a way Joe was sure achieved positive results with her husband. Though not, unfortunately, with him. ‘The girl is so clumsy. Anyone can see that. If she wasn’t so fat, she might have been able to save herself.’

‘Lauren!’ Even Steve seemed to realise she’d gone too far, and Lauren widened her eyes indignantly.

‘You said that too,’ she accused sulkily. ‘You said she was just like her mother.’

‘Lauren!’ Steve spoke again, and this time there was no mistaking the anger in his voice. ‘I don’t think this is the time to be discussing whether Daisy’s fat or not. We came to thank Joe for visiting her. You know better than anyone that it’s no fun spending time in a hospital.’

‘Oh, that’s so true.’

Lauren shuddered dramatically, and Joe’s brows rose in surprise. ‘I didn’t know you’d been in hospital, Lauren,’ he said politely. ‘I hope it was nothing serious.’

‘Lauren’s not been ill,’ said Steve swiftly. ‘She’s talking about when her mother was dying and she had to visit her every day.’ He put an arm about his wife’s shoulders. ‘She had such a tough time. She and her father both did.’

Not to mention the late Mrs Johansen, thought Joe drily, wondering why he’d never noticed these flaws in Steve’s make-up before. It was as if he was seeing a whole new person, one he didn’t particularly like.

‘Anyway, I guess you told Rachel where Daisy is being treated,’ went on Steve conversationally. ‘Knowing her, she’ll probably spend all her time at the clinic. Still, it’ll give me a break. Trying to keep a kid of thirteen entertained is no joke.’

Joe’s brows ascended again. ‘You’ve been spending a lot of time at the clinic?’ he queried mildly. ‘I didn’t realise that.’

Steve pulled a sheepish face. ‘Some,’ he said, looking a little defensive. ‘But you know how it is. I’m no good in the sick room. And looking at Daisy’s face just makes me feel sick.’

Joe knew an almost uncontrollable urge to hit him. ‘I don’t suppose it’s much fun for Daisy either,’ he retorted, unable to hide the irritation in his voice. ‘For God’s sake, Steve, she’s your daughter! And if you’re not exactly responsible for what happened to her, you can’t deny you were supposed to be looking out for her when the accident occurred.’

Steve looked indignant now, and Lauren squeezed his arm before giving Joe a reproachful look. ‘You didn’t mean that, did you, Joe?’ she said in a baby voice. ‘Steve loves his daughter. He can’t help it if Daisy’s injuries make him squeamish.’

‘Of course he can help it!’ Joe was angry now. ‘Daisy’s injuries will heal, please God, no thanks to him. But what irritates me is the way the two of you seem to have absolved yourselves of all responsibility for what happened. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought you’d informed Rachel of the accident just so she’d take up the slack.’

‘It wasn’t our fault,’ protested Steve, sounding resentful. ‘It’s all right for you, Joe. You swan into the clinic whenever you feel like it and you know that the staff will fall over themselves to lick your boots. Me, I’m just Daisy’s father. They tolerate my presence and that’s about it.’

‘Perhaps if you spent more time with Daisy they’d have more respect for you,’ said Joe harshly. ‘As I understand it, you’ve only visited the kid a couple of times since she had the operation.’

‘Three times,’ said Steve sharply, as if that let him off the hook. ‘And as soon as she’s out of there, we’ll take her to Disney World.’

Joe rolled his eyes. ‘She won’t want trips to Disney World,’ he snapped in exasperation. ‘What she’ll need is a little rest and relaxation when she’s discharged. Personally, I’d suggest you take a couple of weeks off work and spend time with her. Talk to her, find out what she’s been doing since you last saw her. Show her you’re her father in more than just name.’

‘Oh, but Steve and I are going to New York next weekend!’ exclaimed Lauren at once. ‘Isn’t that right, babe?’ She looked up at her husband. ‘Daisy’s only staying for another week and then she’s going home.’

‘Daisy won’t be flying back to England any time soon,’ said Joe finally. He slammed his glass back onto the bar. ‘Have you given any thought to Rachel’s feelings at all?’

‘Rachel?’

Lauren looked nonplussed, and even Steve appeared taken aback by the non sequitur.

‘Yeah, Rachel,’ said Joe shortly, half wishing he hadn’t brought her name up. ‘When were you planning to tell her how serious Daisy’s injuries were? Damn it, she didn’t even know she’d been moved to a specialist facility.’

Steve scowled. ‘She’d have found out soon enough,’ he muttered, staring down at the Chinese rug beneath his feet. But when he lifted his head and met Joe’s accusing gaze, his expression shifted. ‘What’s it to you? What has she been telling you about me? Was it my fault she was out with some guy the night I called?’

Joe’s jaw tightened. Was that true? Had Rachel been spending the evening—night?—with another man when Steve had tried to ring her? He felt a tightening in his gut that had nothing to do with Daisy and everything to do with her mother. Was that why she’d got only half the story? Was he jumping in with both feet when he’d only got half the story too?

‘I suggest we say no more about it,’ he declared flatly. ‘As you say, it’s really nothing to do with me. My only concern is that Daisy gets the best treatment possible.’

‘Hey, that’s my concern too!’ exclaimed Steve, his tone indicating some relief at Joe’s capitulation. ‘And we’d better be making a move. I want to visit Daisy before her mother can poison her mind against me again.’

Rachel’s room at the Park Plaza hotel was hardly a five-star accommodation. But it was clean and the bed was reasonably comfortable. So much so that, when Luther dropped her off, she was grateful just to flop down onto it and close her eyes.

She was so tired. Her body didn’t care what time the clock said; she’d flown the Atlantic and she felt utterly exhausted. Finding out that Daisy’s injuries were more serious than she’d been told hadn’t helped either. Without Joe’s support and guidance, she’d have been whistling in the wind.

She refused to consider what meeting Joe again had meant to her. She’d been so sure that if they did meet again she’d be able to handle it. But she was afraid she was beginning to rely on him more and more. And that was stupid. Joe Mendez was not a man a woman like her could depend on, and she was fooling herself if she thought he found her anything more than a minor distraction.

It had been dark outside when she’d closed her eyes, but when she opened them again the room was filled with sunlight. Scrambling up, she managed to bring her watch into focus, her breath catching when she saw the time. Not that she needed the watch to tell her it was morning. She’d slept for twelve hours straight, still dressed in the shirt and trousers she’d worn to travel in.

Her head throbbing now, she glanced round and saw her suitcase standing just inside the door where the porter had left it. Swinging it up onto the crumpled coverlet, she found the key in her bag and hastily unlocked it.

Seeing the clean clothes laid out inside reminded her that she hadn’t had a shower for two days. She felt hot and grubby, the air conditioner making only half-hearted inroads into the room’s humidity. Stripping off her clothes, she padded barefoot into the adjoining bathroom and turned on the shower.

Fifteen minutes later, she felt infinitely cleaner and brighter, and rummaging in her case, she brought out navy linen shorts and a pink tank top. There was no hairdryer, but it was so hot she knew her hair would dry naturally. Then, content she wouldn’t embarrass her daughter, she grabbed her bag and left the room.

Daisy had been on her mind ever since she’d opened her eyes. She hadn’t forgotten that she’d promised to go back the previous evening, and aside from Daisy’s distress she’d let Dr Gonzales down, too. She was also desperate for a drink. She’d had nothing since the bottle of water Joe had given her in the car, and she was sure her headache was partly due to dehydration.

Thankfully, there was a coffee shop and a small pharmacy attached to the hotel, and she was able to buy herself a coffee to go and some chocolates for Daisy. Normally she wouldn’t encourage her to eat rich confectionery, but these were exceptional circumstances. Then, sipping the coffee, she went outside to look for a taxi.

There was no taxi in sight, but she refused to consider what Luther had said about Joe lending her a car. And luckily, a taxi arrived soon afterwards. The driver offloaded two passengers and their luggage and she was able to grab it. ‘The Steinberg Clinic, please,’ she said, sinking into the back seat.

It was after nine o’clock when she got to the clinic, and she stowed the half-drunk styrofoam mug of coffee in a waste bin before going in. As luck would have it, a young man was manning the desk this morning, and after she’d identified herself he had no problem in directing her to the second floor.

She was aware of the security guard watching her as she took the lift, but she reached the second floor without incident. She had to identify herself again at the nurses’ station and then she was allowed to make her way to Daisy’s room. But when she opened the door, she discovered Daisy already had a visitor.

Joe Mendez was lounging on the wide windowsill beside her daughter’s bed, and Daisy was giggling at something he’d said. There was such an air of camaraderie between them that Rachel almost felt as if she was intruding. Yet she was glad Daisy wasn’t on her own, she told herself. Even if she’d never expected to see Joe again.

Joe got up from the sill as Rachel stepped into the room, and Daisy, sensing another presence, turned her head. ‘Mum!’ she exclaimed eagerly. And then, as if remembering Rachel had promised to come back the night before and hadn’t, her expression changed. ‘I thought you’d forgotten I was here.’

‘Oh, Daisy!’ Rachel rolled her lips inward, pressing the box of chocolates to her chest like a shield. ‘I fell asleep,’ she admitted honestly, uncomfortably aware that Joe was listening. Then, turning to him, ‘Um—thanks for visiting Daisy again, Mr Mendez. It’s very kind of you.’

Joe tucked his palms into the back pockets of his trousers and swayed back on his heels before replying. He was formally dressed this morning, his pin-striped grey shirt and charcoal-grey trousers indicating a business meeting. ‘I was passing,’ he said. Then, his eyes darkening, ‘Did you sleep well?’

‘Too well,’ murmured Rachel, feeling the heat rising up her throat as he continued to look at her. Were her breasts puckering? she wondered. Was the film of perspiration she could feel breaking out all over her visible? She lifted her hand and made a futile attempt to fan herself. ‘It’s very hot.’

‘It’s Miami in August,’ remarked Joe drily, but Rachel noticed it didn’t seem to bother him. He looked so cool—and gorgeous, she thought, looking away before he noticed the effect he was having on her. Dear heaven, she was behaving like a schoolgirl. She had to stop reacting in this way.

‘Mr Mendez comes most days,’ put in Daisy, apparently deciding she’d been ignored long enough. She fumbled for something half-hidden beneath the coverlet. ‘Look what he’s brought me.’

She produced something that looked like the iPod Rachel had bought her at Christmas. But it was smaller and slimmer, and when Daisy touched a switch a small screen flickered to life. ‘It’s a video iPod,’ she said proudly. ‘Isn’t it great? I can download videos as well as music and watch them on the screen.’

‘Really?’ Rachel was impressed in spite of herself, but there was no way she could allow her daughter to accept such an expensive gift from him. She licked her lips and turned to Joe again. ‘It’s very nice,’ she said inadequately, ‘But Daisy can’t keep it.’

‘Mum!’

Daisy’s cry of protest was predictable, but Rachel couldn’t help that. ‘It’s too much,’ she said, avoiding Joe’s dark gaze. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘But Mum …’

Daisy was getting tearful now, and Joe felt a surge of impatience as Rachel held her ground. He’d wanted to do this for Daisy; wanted to give her something to make her time in hospital more fun. And give him an excuse to visit her again, he admitted ruefully. Because, now that Rachel was here, he definitely wanted to see her again, whatever excuse he had to make.

‘Mum, you can’t stop me from having it,’ Daisy was saying sulkily. ‘It’s mine, not yours. Mr Mendez has already downloaded a load of teen movies, so I’m not bored while I’m lying here.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Rachel muttered, but now she couldn’t prevent her gaze from shifting to Joe’s dark face. He should have known better, she thought crossly. He hardly knew the child.

‘How about if Daisy only borrows it while she’s in the hospital?’ he suggested mildly. ‘I don’t mind. I’ve got a stack of them lying around the place. It’s no big deal.’

Not for you, maybe, Rachel brooded, aware she was fighting a losing battle. Joe was determined to win this argument and she was fairly sure there was humour lurking behind his eyes. He was probably enjoying her confusion. Another anecdote to regale her ex-husband with perhaps?

‘Please, Mum.’ Now that she saw a glimmer of hope on the horizon, Daisy was prepared to be docile. With an appealing smile, she added, ‘Are those chocolates for me?’

‘What?’ Rachel became aware that she was practically squashing the box of chocolates to her chest. ‘Oh, yes.’ With a hurried gesture, she handed the box over. ‘Sorry. They may be a bit soft.’

‘Unlike the giver,’ murmured Joe, crossing the room and dropping the mocking remark in her ear. Then, turning back, ‘Bye, Daisy. I guess I’ll see you both later.’

CHAPTER TEN

‘THANKS, Mr Mendez.’

Daisy evidently thought the controversy was over, but as Joe closed the door behind him Rachel knew she wasn’t prepared to leave it like that. ‘I won’t be a minute,’ she said to her startled daughter, and jerking open the door again, she stepped into the corridor outside.

‘Mr Mendez!’

Closing Daisy’s door, she called his name, and Joe, who had almost reached the double doors into the reception area, paused at once. Turning, he saw her, and Rachel couldn’t deny a ridiculous sense of satisfaction when he strolled back to her.

‘Hi,’ he said, as if they hadn’t just been involved in a dispute in Daisy’s room. ‘What can I do for you?’

Rachel pressed the palms of her hands together, not knowing how she was going to handle this. ‘I wish you hadn’t given Daisy such an expensive present,’ she said at last, and Joe’s mouth took on a cynical twist.

‘Well, hey, and I thought you were going to thank me for loaning you that automobile,’ he remarked drily, hands on his hips. ‘I should have known better.’

Rachel sighed. ‘I don’t know anything about an automobile,’ she said, ignoring what Luther had told her. ‘And you’re deliberately confusing me …’

‘Am I?’ He didn’t sound concerned. ‘So?’

‘So …’ Rachel glanced up into his disturbing face, wishing she had more experience in these matters. These days all her knowledge of men seemed to come from books she’d written or read, and she couldn’t manipulate Joe Mendez like she could one of her characters. ‘I—er—I’d like your word that you won’t turn Daisy’s head with any more extravagant gifts. She’s an impressionable teenager, and although we’re not poor by any means, I can’t afford to spend hundreds of pounds—dollars—every time she sees something she wants.’

A muscle in Joe’s jaw jerked spasmodically. ‘You don’t pull your punches, do you, Ms Carlyle?’ he said coldly. ‘Believe it or not, I didn’t give Daisy the video iPod with any intention of turning her head or encouraging her to believe that she can get anything she wants without working for it.’

‘No?’

It was obvious Rachel didn’t believe him, and Joe felt compelled to go on. ‘No,’ he said flatly. ‘I don’t care what you believe, but I haven’t always been in the happy position of being able to afford anything that takes my fancy either. Growing up, my family was like yours, except we were immigrants. I didn’t go short, but I always knew I’d have to work if I wanted to make a success of my life.’

Rachel stared at him. ‘But your family owns a multi-million-dollar company,’ she protested, and Joe gave an angry snort.

‘Yeah, they do now,’ he conceded. ‘My father was fortunate enough to understand computers, and between us we found a way to use macro technology to simplify disciplines in science and economics. We were lucky. Our idea took off. But that was only ten years ago, after I left Harvard.’

‘Harvard!’ Rachel’s eyes widened and Joe pulled a wry face.

‘Yeah, Harvard,’ he agreed. ‘What can I tell you? I was a bright student. A guy can get sponsorship if he’s clever enough.’