Nights of Passion: Mendez's Mistress / Bedded for the Italian's Pleasure / The Pregnancy Affair. Anne Mather
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lips had touched with a rueful hand. Then, wrapping her cotton dressing-gown closer about her, she picked up the manuscript and started for the door. ‘I’m going to have a shower,’ she said. ‘I won’t be long. Then I’ll get breakfast.’
‘I can do that.’ Daisy finished her milk and popped the glass into the dishwasher. ‘What would you like? I can make French toast.’
‘Just toast will do,’ said Rachel, guessing the girl was only trying to be helpful. But as she started up the stairs she hoped that, by offering to ring Mendez, she hadn’t given Daisy the idea that she wouldn’t object if her daughter rang him herself.
Knowing she had to go out sometime today to do some food shopping, Rachel dressed in jeans and a black V-necked tee shirt. She dried her hair and then caught it up in a loose knot on top of her head. She didn’t bother with any make-up, and a pair of strappy leather sandals completed her outfit. She looked what she was, she thought, surveying her appearance without conceit: a single mother approaching middle age, with no particular claim to either youth or beauty.
Daisy had the toast ready when she re-entered the kitchen, and there was fresh coffee simmering on the hob. Daisy had taken the time to dress too, though her baggy cut-offs and cropped tank top looked as if they’d spent the night on her bedroom floor.
‘There you go,’ she said, setting the toast on the table where ajar of marmalade and the butter dish already resided; if her cheeks looked a little pink, Rachel put it down to the heat of the grill.
‘This looks good.’ Although she wasn’t feeling particularly hungry, Rachel buttered a slice of toast and spooned on a little of the marmalade. Then, taking a bite, she looked expectantly up at her daughter. ‘Aren’t you having any?’
‘I had some cornflakes,’ said Daisy quickly. ‘I thought you wouldn’t mind.’
‘No.’ But Rachel’s brows drew together as she spoke. Then, dismissing the suspicion that Daisy wasn’t being altogether truthful, she added, ‘I’ll have to go out later. We’ve got nothing in the fridge, and I need some fresh bread.’
‘But you can’t.’
Daisy spoke impulsively and Rachel looked at her with narrowed eyes. ‘Why not?’ ‘Well—because Mr Mendez is going to phone, isn’t he?’
‘So?’ Rachel’s gaze turned to one of enquiry. ‘We have an answerphone. If we’re not here, I’m sure he’ll leave a message, and I can ring him back.’
Daisy pressed her lips together. ‘But what if he comes round?’
‘Comes round?'Rachel was wary. ‘Why on earth would he come round?’ Not to see her, she was sure. ‘He’s said he’ll phone. And, if he doesn’t, I’ve already said I’ll phone him.’
‘He’s not in,’ said Daisy quickly, and Rachel’s eyes widened in disbelief.
‘He’s not in?’ she echoed. Then, shaking her head to clear it, she went on, ‘How do you know he’s not in?’
But she didn’t need the girl to answer. She already knew. Daisy had done what she’d been half-afraid she might and had phoned Mendez while she was in the shower.
‘I—I spoke to that man who works for him,’ Daisy confessed unhappily. ‘Mr Mendez calls him Charles.’ She bit her lip, perhaps hoping that Rachel would take pity on her. But when it became apparent that her mother wasn’t about to speak, she hurried on, ‘He—he was really offhand.’
Rachel regarded her disapprovingly. ‘And that surprises you?’ She shook her head. ‘It’s barely eight o’clock, Daisy. It’s Saturday, and people don’t appreciate being woken up so early.’
Daisy’s expression lightened. ‘So maybe Mr Mendez was really there?’ she suggested. ‘But this man—Charles—didn’t want to disturb him.’ She looked encouragingly at her mother. ‘Do you think that’s what happened?’
‘It’s possible.’ But Rachel suspected it wasn’t that simple. It was far more likely that Mendez had slept elsewhere, and her stomach tightened at the thought. Then, dismissing the images that evoked from her mind, she said, ‘It would serve you right if Mr Mendez decided that taking you to Florida was more trouble than it was worth. Then your father would be stuck with your air fare. I wonder how he’d feel about that?’
It was a low blow, and Rachel regretted letting her own disappointment rule her tongue. She wanted Daisy to spend time with Steve; of course she did. It was just hard to accept that her daughter wasn’t so different from her father after all.
Daisy looked positively mortified now, and, knowing she couldn’t let her shoulder all the blame for the way she was feeling, she sighed. ‘Look, I’m sure that’s not going to happen. But you have to be patient. I imagine Mr Mendez has more important matters than arranging your trip to attend to. If you take my advice, you’ll let him get back to you in his own good time.’
‘But what if he forgets?’
Rachel’s laugh was bitter. ‘Oh, I don’t think that’s likely,’ she said drily. ‘Now, I suggest you let me finish my coffee, and then you can come with me to the supermarket.’
It was after eleven by the time they got back to the house. Despite Daisy’s agitation, Rachel had been determined not to let Joe Mendez think that she, at least, was desperate for his assistance. Daisy was thirteen, after all, and there was no reason why she shouldn’t make the journey on her own on a commercial flight. Rachel knew that the air crew could be relied upon to keep an eye on her, and Steve would be meeting her in Miami.
Consequently, it was something of a blow to find the powerful SUV parked at their gate when she turned into Castle Close. Although she’d only seen the vehicle once before, the identity of its owner was unquestionable, and she didn’t need Daisy’s cry of excitement to reinforce her opinion.
‘It’s Mr Mendez!’ Daisy exclaimed, hopping out of Rachel’s modest Audi as soon as she applied the brake. ‘I wonder how long he’s been waiting? I told you we shouldn’t have gone out.’
Rachel reserved judgment on that, but in any case she had no time to reply. Daisy was already running to the front of the Lexus, full of excitement as she waited for Joe Mendez to open the door.
He did so at once. Long, powerful legs encased in tight-fitting black jeans again this morning appeared; tan-coloured deck shoes, once more without socks, lowered to the pavement. As she stood, Rachel glimpsed a white tee shirt in the open V of a black knitted polo, which exposed his arms and the dark shadow of his tattoo. There was a dark shadow on his jawline too, she noticed, so evidently he hadn’t bothered to shave. But the slightly dishevelled look suited him. He was that kind of man.
It was an effort for her to get out of the car, but eventually she did so, aware that Daisy was chattering away happily. Probably blaming her mother for them not having been at home, thought Rachel ruefully. Well, it had been her fault, but she wasn’t ashamed of it. If Daisy hadn’t taken it into her head to ring the man, he’d have contacted her sooner or later. Or not—as he chose.
Meanwhile Joe was wishing Daisy would stop talking long enough to allow him to speak to her mother. Judging by the reluctance with which Rachel had got out of the vehicle, she wasn’t exactly thrilled to see him. But when she opened the boot and started unloading bags of groceries onto the path, he had the perfect excuse to go and assist her.
‘Hi,’ he said as he reached the pile of plastic carriers. ‘Let me help you.’
‘I can manage.’ Rachel knew she sounded ungrateful, but she couldn’t help it.
However, Joe ignored her. Hefting two bags in each hand, he nodded towards the house. ‘You go ahead and open the door. I’ll follow you.’
Rachel’s lips tightened, but short of forcibly wresting the carriers from him, she had no choice but to do as he said. Rescuing the remaining bag and her handbag, she locked the car and brushed past him. But