Mendez’s Mistress Read online

  ‘You’d have some pain if someone had drilled your skull,’ she countered sulkily as a nurse followed the doctor into the room. ‘I’ll feel better when I get out of here.’ Then, as Rachel widened her eyes in warning, ‘Well, I will.’

  ‘I suggest we allow your mother to go and get a cup of coffee,’ declared Dr Gonzales smoothly as the nurse began to roll back the sleeve of Daisy’s gown. ‘She looks a little tired, don’t you think?’ Then, to Rachel, ‘Perhaps we could have a few words later this evening? I’d like to explain what has happened and how long I think Daisy needs to stay here.’

  ‘Of course.’ Rachel glanced at her watch. It read almost midnight, but it was still on British time. ‘I—er—I need to speak to someone. To arrange about my luggage. If you could give me half an hour?’

  ‘Take an hour,’ advised Dr Gonzales kindly. ‘I’ll be here all evening. You might like to have a rest. Are you staying somewhere close by?’

  ‘The Park Plaza hotel,’ said Rachel, and she thought he seemed a little surprised by her answer. But he didn’t demur.

  ‘Shall we say eight-thirty?’ he suggested. ‘In my office. The receptionist will tell you where it is.’

  Daisy gazed at her despairingly. ‘You’re not leaving?’ She choked back a sob. ‘I don’t want you to go.’

  ‘I’ll be back.’ Rachel glanced at the doctor, and he nodded his head almost imperceptibly. She squeezed Daisy’s hand. ‘You be good, baby. I’ll be back before you’ve even noticed I’ve gone.’

  There was no sign of Joe when Rachel let herself out of Daisy’s room and she guessed he must be waiting downstairs. He couldn’t have left, she assured herself as she took the lift down to the lobby. Her suitcase was still in the boot of the limousine.

  But when the lift doors opened it was Luther who was standing there, waiting for her. ‘Mr Mendez had to leave,’ he explained politely. ‘He sends his apologies and has instructed me to escort you to your hotel.’

  ‘Oh.’ Rachel’s stomach hollowed with disappointment. Until that moment, she hadn’t realised how much she’d wanted to see Joe again. ‘Well, thank you.’ She glanced uncomfortably at the receptionist, who was watching their exchange with obvious interest. She forced a smile. ‘Shall we go?’

  The limousine was visible as soon as they stepped out of the doors; its sleek black lines dominated every other vehicle on the parking lot. Luther helped her into the back, then closed the door and got behind the wheel. He moved easily for such a big man, and the smile he gave her through the rear-view mirror was reassuring.

  ‘The Park Plaza, right?’ he said, and Rachel nodded.

  Then, before the screen between them could be raised, she shifted forward in her seat and said nervously, ‘Exactly how far away is it? Could I walk from the hotel to the hospital?’

  ‘Not a good idea,’ declared Luther without hesitation. ‘I guess it’s over a mile, and most people hire a car to get around.’ He paused. ‘That’s not your problem. Mr Mendez is letting you have the use of one of his cars while you’re here.’

  Rachel’s lips parted. ‘But—he can’t do that.’

  ‘Hey, you don’t tell Mr Mendez he can’t do nothing.’ Luther grinned. ‘Leastways, not when he’s just thinking of your safety. You’re a stranger, Ms Carlyle. You don’t know the area. It can be a dangerous place, especially at night.’

  Rachel shook her head. ‘I don’t know what to say.’

  ‘Don’t say nothing.’ Luther was dismissive. ‘You just tell Mr Mendez how you feel when you see him again.’

  When you see him again.

  Considering how Rachel had been feeling about Joe Mendez when she’d landed in Miami, it was amazing how reassuring those words sounded. Did Joe intend to see her again or did Luther mean he might run into her at the hospital? Either way, the prospect was massively—and dangerously—appealing.

  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.