Mendez’s Mistress

by Anne Mather

  Joe slammed the glass door closed and then paused in the living-room doorway, raising one hand to support himself on the lintel above his head. He was aware that his action caused his zip to open a little wider, but he didn’t try to stop it. If she could see what being with her was doing to him, then so be it. Maybe it would achieve what his attempt at conciliation had not.

  However, when she said nothing, he had to try again. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘Why don’t we take this upstairs? It’ll be morning soon. Then I’ll take you back to your hotel.’

  Rachel held up her head. ‘I’d like to go now, please. I would have called a cab, but I didn’t know the number.’ She bit her lip as another thought occurred to her. ‘I’m assuming they don’t lock the doors after midnight or anything like that?’

  ‘Hardly.’ Joe knew a cynical desire to laugh. The idea of a hotel like the Park Plaza locking its doors before half its patrons were in residence was too ludicrous to call. He sucked in a breath. ‘Don’t go,’ he said huskily. ‘I realise I’ve upset you, but that’s just the way I am. This evening has meant a lot to me, damn it. Can’t we go back to where we were before you decided to take a walk on the wild side?’

  ‘I didn’t—’ began Rachel, and then realised he didn’t mean that in reality. ‘And I’m sorry if I worried you. I didn’t consider how you might react when you found I wasn’t with you.’

  Joe managed a rueful smile. ‘I guess not,’ he agreed, dropping his arm and taking a step towards her. ‘So, why don’t we begin again?’ His eyes darkened. ‘Do you have any idea how sexy you look without any make-up?’ He shook his head. ‘Not many women can say that.’

  ‘And you’ve known quite a few,’ murmured Rachel, retreating a step so the distance between them remained the same.

  Joe’s smile disappeared. ‘That has nothing to do with us,’ he said. ‘For God’s sake, Rachel, you’re not going to bring my past into this, are you?’

  ‘Why not?’ Rachel had had plenty of time to think while she’d sat out on the patio, and although she’d discovered that she didn’t regret what had happened, she’d decided it was never going to happen again. It was too dangerous. She wasn’t cut out for this kind of relationship, and while she’d been flattered that he’d wanted her, she had the distinct feeling that the only person likely to get hurt in this situation was herself.

  And wasn’t that a joke?

  ‘Rachel…’

  Joe was tired and frustrated, and her attitude baffled him. He should have had that drink while he’d had the chance, he thought. It might have helped him to make sense of what was going on.

  ‘What was it Steve said?’ Rachel continued. She frowned. ‘Oh, yes: that this is a young man’s country. Well, I guess that applies to women as well.’

  Joe’s brows drew together. ‘You’ve been talking to Steve?’

  ‘Yes.’ Rachel nodded. ‘He came to the hospital this afternoon.’

  Joe felt a twinge of something he refused to recognise as jealousy. ‘Was Lauren with him?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And you didn’t think to tell me?’

  Rachel’s eyes widened. ‘Why should I tell you?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Joe scowled. ‘Maybe because I thought my opinion mattered to you.’

  Rachel sighed. ‘It does.’ She took a deep breath. ‘He didn’t stay long.’

  Joe hesitated. ‘And how did you feel? Seeing him again after—what’s it been?—a year?’

  ‘Slightly more than that.’ Rachel shrugged. ‘It was okay. I felt sorry for him, actually.’

  ‘Sorry for him?’ Joe couldn’t keep the frustration out of his voice now. ‘What are you saying? That you still care about the guy? That even after the way he’s behaved—’

  ‘No, no.’ Rachel interrupted him. ‘It’s been a long time since I cared about Steve Carlyle.’

  ‘So that’s not what all this is about?’

  ‘Steve?’ Rachel didn’t pretend not to understand. ‘No!’

  Joe could feel his pulse quickening, anger causing the blood to rush headlong through his veins. ‘Then what is happening here?’ he demanded. ‘I thought you wanted this just as much as I did. You certainly gave me that impression. So what did I do wrong?’

  Rachel hardly knew how to answer him. ‘I—You didn’t do anything wrong,’ she murmured unhappily. ‘It’s just, well, it was good while it lasted, but it’s over now—’

  ‘Like hell!’

  ‘It is.’ It took an effort, but she raised her eyes to his face. ‘I like you, Joe. I like you a lot. And I know I owe you a lot, too. Daisy and I both do.’

  ‘You don’t owe me.’ Joe was incensed, as much with his own unfamiliar emotions as by what Rachel was saying. ‘I just don’t understand what’s going on.’

  Rachel took a step backward. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘Maybe I’m not explaining myself very well.’

  ‘You’re not!’

  ‘I just don’t think we should see one another again.’

  ‘Are you crazy?’ Joe swore then, and she took another step back.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said again. ‘I know I probably seem very old-fashioned, but that’s what comes of living a fairly conservative life. And whatever impression I’ve given you, I don’t do this sort of thing.’

  ‘What sort of thing?’

  ‘Sleep with men I hardly know,’ she replied quickly. ‘You might not believe this after—well, after Steve—but I still believe in marriage; in commitment. For Daisy’s sake, I have to think of the future. Our future. And we both know this was not what being with you was all about.’

  Joe stared at her. And then said something he never thought he’d hear coming from his mouth. ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘Oh, please.’ Rachel heaved a sigh. ‘Don’t pretend. When you invited me out, you admitted you’d have no trouble finding another date.’

  ‘Maybe I was bragging.’ Joe’s jaw compressed.

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘So I’ve had girlfriends. What’s so unusual about that? You went out with some guy yourself back in England.’

  Rachel closed her eyes for a moment. ‘Paul Davis is just a friend. I told you that.’

  ‘Okay. Shelley Adair is a friend.’

  Shelley Adair! Rachel couldn’t help but recognise the name of the internationally known model.

  ‘Who you just happen to sleep with,’ she said, wondering why they were even having this conversation. For pity’s sake, a man who’d shared Shelley Adair’s bed could have no serious interest in her. Beyond a minor curiosity, that was.

  ‘It might interest you to know that I haven’t slept with another woman since the morning I kissed you in your kitchen back home,’ Joe retorted. ‘Damn it, Rachel, what do you think I am?’

  Rachel couldn’t answer that. Instead she said quietly, ‘I think you’re a very attractive man. And if it’s any consolation at all, being with you was—incredible. I’ve never…’ But she broke off at that point, realising she could hardly confess that being with Steve had never been like being with him. Joe was Steve’s friend, after all. ‘I’ve had a wonderful evening.’

  Joe groaned. ‘So why are you running out on me now?’

  ‘You know why.’

  ‘Because you want commitment?’ For the first time the word didn’t stick in his throat.

  ‘No!’ Rachel backed all the way to the door. ‘I don’t expect anything like that from you.’ She shook her head. ‘Joe, it was good, really good, but we live in different worlds, you know that.’

  ‘How different?’

  Rachel gazed at him helplessly. ‘You know how. I don’t have homes all over the world. I don’t drive expensive cars or fly around in private planes.’ She spread her hands. ‘Believe it or not, I wouldn’t want to. I’m—I’m quite happy with my life. I have my daughter, I have my work. I don’t need anything else.’

  ‘I don’t believe that.’

  ‘Well, that’s the way it is.’

&nb
sp; ‘No.’ Joe’s scowl deepened. ‘For God’s sake, Rachel, at least admit that you wanted me.’

  Rachel bent her head, unable to meet his anguished gaze any longer. ‘I’m not saying I didn’t,’ she muttered in a low voice. ‘Oh, please, Joe, call me a taxi. Let me go back to the hotel.’

  The pulse at Joe’s temple beat a crazy tattoo, and before he could stop himself, he said harshly, ‘All right. You want commitment, I’ll give you commitment! Marry me! Stay in Florida as my wife!’

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  JOE flew into a private airfield north of Miami. Emerging from the airport buildings, he was relieved to find Luther waiting for him with the limousine. He had rung the chauffeur from the Jetstream and supplied him with his expected time of arrival, but it was always good not to encounter any problems at the end of what had been a rather harrowing trip.

  ‘You okay, sir?’ asked Luther with some concern as Joe slid into the back of the vehicle, and Joe pulled a wry face before replying.

  ‘I’ve been better,’ he admitted, glad to escape the humidity outside the car. His father suffering a stroke had not been something he’d ever expected, and although the old man was now on the road to recovery, it had been a worrying couple of weeks.

  ‘And Mr Mendez?’ the chauffeur added as they slipped into the traffic heading for downtown. ‘Mr Napier said he’d heard he was out of the hospital, which must be a relief.’

  ‘It is.’ Joe nodded. ‘Thankfully, it was only a minor attack. His doctors say there’s no reason why he shouldn’t be as good as new in time.’

  ‘That’s good to hear.’ Luther had worked for the family for over twenty years, and both Joe and his father appreciated his loyalty. ‘So are we heading for the office?’

  ‘No.’ Joe’s jaw compressed. ‘Take me to the condo, will you, Luther? I’ve got some personal business to attend to.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Luther never questioned his instructions, and not for the first time Joe was grateful for his perspicacity. After all, there was no practical reason for him to be back in Florida only two weeks after he’d left, and Luther must know that. Bill Napier, the managing director of the Miami division of the company, didn’t need him to hold his hand.

  So why was he here?

  Joe had no desire to answer that question. When he’d left here, despite the seriousness of his journey, he’d been heartily glad to be putting as many miles between himself and Rachel as he could. After what had happened at the house on Biscayne Bay, he’d needed the objectivity that distance usually provided. It annoyed the hell out of him that he was back here now with no more impartiality than he’d had when he left.

  Telling Luther he wouldn’t need him any more that day, Joe took one of the high-speed lifts to the penthouse floor. He liked the condo. It was fairly small—just four bedrooms—and convenient, but it wasn’t home. He had two houses he called home: one in Eaton Court Mews in London, and the other an elegant brownstone on the Upper East Side of Manhattan.

  Marla met him in the high-ceilinged entry. ‘Mr Mendez!’ she exclaimed warmly. She, too, had been informed of his return. ‘It’s good to see you again, Mr Mendez. Ah, but you look so tired! How is your father? Much better, I hope?’

  ‘Much better,’ agreed Joe, tugging off the tie he’d worn to his interview with his father’s specialist that morning. His parents were living in New York for the summer, and his father had been treated at one of the major facilities in the city.

  ‘But you are still worried about him, no?’ fussed Marla, following him into the spacious living room. ‘You should have stayed in New York, Mr Mendez. Whatever problems they are having at the Miami office could surely wait until your father is out of danger?’

  ‘He is out of danger,’ said Joe tolerantly. ‘And there is no problem at the Miami office.’ He paused. ‘That’s not why I’ve come back.’

  ‘Ah.’ Marla looked puzzled. ‘So how long are you staying? If you are just here for a few hours—’

  ‘I’ll be staying longer than that,’ Joe told her flatly, wishing she was more like Luther. Marla always had too much to say for herself. She treated him more like a surrogate son than an employer.

  Her dark brows arched now, and Joe knew she was waiting for him to explain. ‘There’s someone I have to see,’ he said, giving in with some impatience. Then, more briskly, ‘I’ve had lunch. I’ll let you know if I’ll be in to dinner.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Marla lifted a careless shoulder and moved towards the door. Then she halted. ‘Oh, I almost forgot, Mr Carlyle called yesterday afternoon. I told him you were not here, that you were still in New York.’ She hesitated. ‘I don’t think he believed me.’

  Joe paused in the middle of unbuttoning his shirt. ‘What do you mean, he “called”? Did he phone? Is that what you’re saying?’

  ‘No.’ Marla looked offended now. ‘He called. From the lobby downstairs. I told him you were not here, and—’

  ‘Yeah, yeah.’ Joe didn’t need a rerun of that particular part of the conversation. He frowned. ‘Why do you think he didn’t believe you?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Marla shrugged. ‘I get these feelings sometimes.’

  ‘And he didn’t say anything else?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Marla could be very annoying at times. ‘He asked if I knew where Mrs Carlyle was.’ She huffed a little. ‘As if anyone should know that better than him, eh?’

  Joe could feel his nerves tightening. ‘And that’s all he said? Did you know where Mrs Carlyle was?’

  ‘I think so.’ Marla considered. ‘I told him I hadn’t seen Mrs Carlyle since she came here with him that evening over two weeks ago.’

  Joe’s patience stretched. ‘And?’ he prompted.

  ‘And nothing.’ Marla spread her hands. ‘But if you ask me he and Mrs Carlyle are having problems, yes. Why else would he come here and practically accuse you of kidnapping his wife?’

  ‘Oh, come on.’ Joe stifled an oath. ‘I think that’s an exaggeration, don’t you?’

  All the same, he didn’t like the idea that Steve and Lauren might have split. A pulse throbbed in his temple at the thought that Steve might be heading back to England in the not too distant future. If Steve and Lauren were having problems—and, remembering the way she’d behaved with him, it wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility—Ted Johansen, as Lauren’s father and a major shareholder in the company, might well insist that his contract be terminated.

  Marla shrugged when he didn’t say anything more, and after she’d left him Joe wandered over to the windows and stared out at the sunlit ocean creaming onto the beach below. Looking at the placid scene, it was hard to think how it must have looked a couple of weeks ago. When a tropical storm had hit the coast some miles north of the city, its backlash had been felt as far south as the Everglades.

  But Joe hadn’t been here to see it. He’d just had news of his father’s collapse and had been heading north at the time. His mind had been full of the anxiety he was feeling for both his father and his mother, the responsibilities he had as their only male offspring weighing heavily on his shoulders.

  Of course, as soon as he’d assured himself that his father’s condition was stable, as soon as he’d satisfied himself that his mother and his sister—who’d flown over from California—were coping, he’d found himself reliving everything that had happened at the house on Biscayne Bay.

  In hindsight, he knew he’d behaved recklessly; no woman—least of all a woman like Rachel—would have taken his proposal seriously. It had been said in the heat of the moment, and Rachel had treated it with the contempt it deserved.

  The trouble was, he hadn’t seen it that way at the time. Despite an initial sense of relief when she’d refused his offer of marriage, he’d been angered that she could dismiss it so casually. Damn it, he’d never proposed to a woman before, and he’d felt insulted when she’d practically thrown it back in his face.

  But—and it was a big ‘but’—that hadn’t prevented him fr
om making arrangements to return to Florida as soon as his father was home from the hospital. He’d tried to tell himself that his main reason for coming back was to see Daisy again, to assure himself she was making satisfactory progress. Despite the fact that her mother had refused his offer of accommodation, he had arranged with Dr Gonzales that they should stay on at the clinic until Daisy was well enough to go home. But in his heart of hearts, he knew he couldn’t wait to see Rachel again. He had to see her, he thought grimly. If only to convince himself that she’d saved him from making the biggest mistake of his life.

  He turned abruptly away from the windows, aware that that assertion had a distinctly hollow ring. That despite the fact that he’d only known the woman for a few weeks, his proposal hadn’t been as reckless as he was trying to claim. Okay, she was different from the women he was usually attracted to, but perhaps that was part of her appeal. There was no doubt that the notion of marrying anyone hadn’t even been in his thoughts when he’d turned up at her house that morning four weeks ago. Yet for some reason the idea had grown on him, and although he was trying to dismiss it, the fact was it wouldn’t go away.

  Which was ridiculous, he told himself. And sad. He had to get Rachel out of his life for good and resume his normal existence. She’d disrupted his routine, sure, but he wasn’t cut out for marriage. Not yet, anyway. He certainly wasn’t cut out to be any kid’s stepfather, and to imagine Daisy calling him ‘Dad’ was simply beyond belief.

  All the same, he was looking forward to seeing the girl. She’d been quite a character, and he’d been flattered, admittedly, when she’d apparently accepted him into her life. But how she’d feel if he was going to marry her mother would be something else, he mused shrewdly. But then, he reminded himself again, that wasn’t going to happen, so why was he even considering it?

  He’d had a shower and was pondering whether or not he needed a shave when he heard voices coming from the living room. One was Marla’s. It was unmistakeable. The other, also female, had an English intonation, and ignoring all the sane advice he’d been giving himself, Joe’s heart leapt.