Mendoza's Secret Fortune. Marie Ferrarella
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partially right.” Orlando laughed, fully aware that the young woman had asked the question tongue-in-cheek. “And partially a flatterer.” He glanced at Cisco and told his son, “This one can hold her own against you.”
Cisco’s eyes were filled with humor as well as a healthy measure of appreciation as they met hers. “I’m sure she can.”
Realizing that she had already spent way too much time at one table, Rachel flashed another quick smile at the trio and began to withdraw, saying, “I’d love to talk some more, but I’ve got another order up,” before she turned on her heel and left.
“And that, little brother,” Cisco said as soon as he felt that the hostess was out of earshot, “is how it’s done.”
Matteo looked at his older sibling, more than a little annoyed at the latter’s presumption. “I don’t need pointers. And even if I did, it wouldn’t be from you.”
“Touchy, touchy,” Cisco observed with a pitying shake of his head. “You might not be aware of it, little brother, but you definitely are in need of something.” He dug into the chicken enchiladas before him. “I just beat you to the punch with Rachel—and the worst part of it is, you let me.”
“Beat me to the punch,” Matteo repeated incredulously. “Is that what all this is to you? A game? Just a game?”
Cisco refused to get embroiled in an argument, especially one that didn’t look as if it could have a clear winner—at least not verbally. He took another bite before saying anything in reply.
“What it is, is invigorating,” Cisco told him. “And I intend to have a really good time with the fair Rachel.”
Matteo’s scowl grew deeper. “If you know what’s good for you, you’d better treat her like a lady,” he warned Cisco.
“Or what?” Cisco asked, curious as to just where this conversation was going. “You’ll beat me up?” Orlando felt that he had sat by in silence long enough. The last thing he wanted was to see this escalate beyond a few hot words traded. Even that was too much.
“Stop it, you two. You are brothers. Remember that,” Orlando ordered. “And Cisco, you had better behave like a gentleman with this girl. I will not stand for anything less,” he warned his older son.
Cisco didn’t want to provoke his father, but the whole thing had made him curious. His father must have sown a few wild oats in his day. There was still a hint of a wicked twinkle left in his eye.
“Don’t you remember being young once, Dad?” Cisco asked him.
Orlando made no effort to deny it. “Yes, I do, which is exactly why I am saying this to you now.” And then he turned his attention to Matteo. “And you, you have no business telling your brother what to do after you neglected to act according to your own feelings.”
Matteo just looked at him, mystified.
“She was waiting for you to say something,” he told Matteo. “And you let her slip through your fingers.”
Matteo had no idea she was anywhere near his fingers to begin with. He had just been working up his courage to engage her in a conversation when Cisco all but pounced on the hostess.
“If you ask me, the better man won,” Cisco commented to his father with just a hint of a smirk directed at Matteo.
To be honest—and he was, in the depths of his own heart—he had only asked the hostess out because he saw that Matteo was exhibiting interest in her. Beating him to the punch was, he thought, a good way to light a fire under his brother and get him moving so that the next time, Matteo would be the one who was first to ask her out.
“No one asked you,” Matteo snapped.
Orlando looked from one son to the other and wearily shook his head. “You know, perhaps I was too hasty to try to convince you boys to move out here to live. The peace and quiet I had for all those months made me forget how you two were always going at one another when you were growing up. Apparently you haven’t outgrown that trait.”
Cisco laughed. “I see right through you, Dad. You can talk and complain all you want, but admit it. You missed having us around, competition and all—not that it was ever much of a competition once I decided to throw my hat into the ring.” He gave Matteo a smug, superior look that he knew would bother the younger man.
“You’re delusional,” Matteo told him.
“And you have no memory of things at all. Otherwise, you’d know I was right. If I set my sights on something or someone, the game is already over because, for all intents and purposes, I have won it. All that remains is to collect my winnings,” Cisco concluded. He secretly watched Matteo from beneath hooded eyes to see if his words had succeeded in pushing his brother into action. In his opinion, there were times when his little brother was too laid-back. Goading him this way was for his own good. And if not, well, it was Matteo’s loss, right?
“Enough,” Orlando warned. “I invited you two here to have a nice family meal—so eat!” He looked from one son to the other. After a beat, both complied with his command.
Orlando found the silence gratifying and refreshing. At least now he could hear himself think.
And what he was thinking about was how nice the silence was.
Rachel closed the door to her apartment behind her and walked into the kitchen. A minute later, she did a U-turn and crossed back to the door. Not to open it again in hopes of catching the man who had just dropped her off because she’d had second thoughts about not asking him in for a drink, but to flip the top lock into place to ensure her safety. The original lock that came with the door was rather flimsy at best.
Five years and security was still an afterthought for her, Rachel thought with a shake of her head.
That was because five years ago, she was living with her seven siblings in a palatial home in Austin. The servants who took care of the house were the ones who made sure doors were locked and everything was always secured. The entire house and grounds were wired with a state-of-the-art security system.
It had been a whole other world then. As one of Gerald Robinson’s daughters, her every need had been anticipated and met. Had she wanted merely to float through life, doing nothing more strenuous than enjoying herself and contributing nothing to the world around her, that option had been there for her to take.
But she had always been the stubborn one who wanted to make her own way, earn her own money, be her own person. And never more than now—for herself as well as to atone for her father’s indiscretions.
Maybe, Rachel mused as she stepped out of her high heels on the way to her tiny bedroom and more comfortable clothes, that earlier way of life had jaded her somewhat, spoiling her for the actual realities of life.
What other reason could there be for her feeling like this after the evening she had just had?
Cisco Mendoza had been as good as his word, waiting for her outside the Cantina when she’d walked out at a few minutes after eight o’clock tonight.
Any other woman would have felt like Cinderella, being whisked off not in a coach that had formerly been a pumpkin but in a shiny, fully loaded black luxury SUV. When she’d asked him where they were going, he’d given her a sexy wink and said in an equally sexy voice that it was a surprise.
She had to admit to herself that that had made her a little nervous. Growing up in Austin as the child of a very rich man, her mother and the family housekeeper had made her and her siblings acutely aware of being on their guard against possible kidnappers. Having money did not come without a certain downside.
She was fairly certain that Cisco Mendoza didn’t know about her real background—although she couldn’t be 100 percent sure—but then again, there were other reasons for women to go