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Rachel’s smile was thin. ‘Daisy’s biased,’ she said, wondering why she felt this need to deny her success. For heaven’s sake, she was proud of her achievement. Two successful titles and her agent panting for her next manuscript—it was a would-be writer’s dream.
He shrugged then, and, turning away from the bar, he walked to the windows that overlooked the garden at the back of the house. ‘Nice view,’ he commented, taking in the smooth stretch of lawn, the small summer-house that Steve’s father had built when Daisy was a baby. ‘Have you lived here long?’
Rachel’s lips tightened. ‘Didn’t Steve tell you?’
He swung round then, hands resting low on his hips, dark eyes frankly curious. ‘No,’ he said flatly. ‘Steve didn’t tell me a lot about you. Should he have done? Am I treading on someone’s toes here?’
Rachel immediately felt dreadful. ‘No,’ she said unhappily. ‘Sorry. Don’t take any notice of me. I was just being bitchy.’
Joe arched his dark brows. ‘That still doesn’t answer my question: what is Steve supposed to have told me?’
‘Oh…’ Rachel wished she’d never started this. ‘It’s just, well, this house used to belong to Steve’s parents. They gave it to us when we got married, and…and after the divorce…’ She shrugged. ‘They wanted us—Daisy and me—to stay here.’
‘Ah.’ He seemed to understand. ‘They didn’t approve of the divorce?’
‘Something like that.’ In actual fact, Steve’s parents had been outraged when the son they’d always worshipped had proved to be less than godlike.
Joe looked thoughtful. ‘And were you wondering if your ex-husband had sent me here?’ he asked after a moment.
It had crossed her mind, but Rachel chose not to admit it. ‘I’m just wondering why you came here, Mr Mendez,’ she said steadily. Then, as the coffee finished filtering, ‘Black or with milk?’
‘Black,’ he said, as she’d guessed he would. ‘And call me Joe, please. Mr Mendez sounds like my father.’
Rachel poured the coffee without answering him. But she was thinking that perhaps she had made a mistake, after all. Perhaps this man wasn’t Steve’s boss. Perhaps his father was.
The coffee smelt delicious and Rachel, who tended to survive on caffeine during the day, pushed a mug towards Joe Mendez and then lifted her own mug to her lips. It was hot, but so refreshing that she took a generous swallow before looking at him again. ‘Shall we go back into the sitting room?’
He shrugged as if it was of little importance to him, but taking his cue from her, he followed her across the hall and into the other room. He waited until she’d seated herself in a tapestry-covered armchair before resuming his seat on the sofa, sampling his own coffee with apparent enjoyment.
‘This is good,’ he said, glancing round the room as he spoke. Then, his eyes finding hers again, ‘I hope I’m not wasting too much of your time.’
Rachel gave a wry smile. ‘My work’s not that important,’ she assured him. She grimaced. ‘Actually, I could do with the break.’
‘Not going well?’
He sounded genuinely interested and she decided to take his words at face value. ‘You could say that,’ she admitted. ‘Since—well, since Daisy’s been invited to Florida, there’s been a lot to do.’
Joe regarded her intently. ‘You don’t want her to go?’ he asked shrewdly, and Rachel couldn’t prevent the faint trace of colour that entered her cheeks at his words.
‘Oh, no. I mean, yes, I want her to go. She hasn’t seen her father for almost a year, and it’s important for them to keep in touch. It’s just…’
‘A big step for her to take on her own?’ he suggested gently, and she was amazed at his perspicacity.
It suddenly seemed as if she’d misjudged him, and with a rueful shrug she said, ‘Yes, I suppose so.’ She pulled a wry face. ‘I’ve never even crossed the Atlantic myself.’
Joe grimaced. ‘It’s not that big a deal. We Americans speak the same language, at least. Even if we don’t always understand one another.’
Rachel smiled. ‘Are you an American? I thought I detected—I don’t know—a faint accent, but I could be—’
‘My parents were born in Venezuela,’ he interrupted her easily. ‘But I’ve lived in the States all my life. My parents moved to Miami before I was born, and I guess I consider myself an American first and a Venezuelan second.’
Rachel nodded. Almost involuntarily, she was relaxing, and it was only when the phone rang that she realised she still didn’t really know why he’d come here.
‘Excuse me,’ she said, getting up and going out into the hall to use the extension there. ‘I won’t be a minute.’
He nodded, but she was aware of him getting to his feet and she made a point of closing the door behind her. Then, hurrying to the phone, she lifted the receiver. ‘Yes?’
‘Rachel?’ It was her mother-in-law, and immediately she thought of Daisy.
‘Yes. Is something wrong? Daisy’s with you, isn’t she?’
‘Yes, she’s here.’ Evelyn Carlyle spoke affectionately. ‘We’ve just been discussing her trip to Florida. Are you sure you’re all right with this, Rachel? I mean, Steve has no right—’
‘I’m fine with it,’ said Rachel quickly, aware of other ears that might be listening behind the sitting room door. ‘Is that why you rang, Lynnie?’
‘No, no,’ Evelyn was swift to reassure her. ‘As a matter of fact, I was a little worried about you, dear. Madge Freeman tells me you’ve had a visitor this morning. She was on her way into town and she saw a strange man at your door, and I just wondered if you were all right.’
Trust Madge Freeman, thought Rachel drily, aware that the elderly lady who lived opposite missed little that went on in the Close. ‘I’m okay,’ she said now, playing for time. ‘How have you had a conversation with Mrs Freeman? Surely she didn’t ring you just to tell you I’d had a visitor?’
‘Well, no…’ Evelyn sounded a little put out. ‘Daisy and I bumped into her at the supermarket.’ She paused and then continued determinedly, ‘So who was it, dear? I told Madge it was probably just one of those double-glazing salesmen.’
Rachel didn’t think Joe Mendez would have appreciated being thought of as a double-glazing salesman, but she was curiously loath to discuss her visitor with her mother-in-law.
Which was silly, she told herself, but aware that her conversation might be audible to her visitor, she said, ‘It’s Mr Mendez. Ask Daisy. She’ll tell you all about him.’
‘Mendez?’ Evelyn evidently recognised the name. ‘Isn’t that the company Steve works for?’
Rachel sighed. ‘It is.’
Evelyn made a sound of impatience. ‘So why is he visiting you? Nothing’s happened to Steve, has it?’
‘Not as far as I’m aware,’ said Rachel drily, wondering why her mother-in-law would imagine that she might be informed in such circumstances. ‘No, I think he’s just come to reassure me that he’ll look after Daisy on the flight to Florida.’ She hesitated. ‘I’m sure Daisy’s told you all about it.’
‘Well, she’s said something,’ replied her mother-in-law grudgingly. ‘And that’s the only reason he came?’
Rachel blew out a breath. ‘I think so.’ She knew a moment’s irritation. ‘That is, I’m sure so. But I’ve got to go, Lynnie. He’ll be wondering why I’m taking so long.’
‘He’s still there?’ Evelyn sounded shocked now, and Rachel felt almost guilty for having to admit that he was. ‘But it must be over an hour since Madge saw him ringing your bell.’
And your point is? mouthed Rachel silently, copying one of Daisy’s favourite expressions. But all she said was, ‘I made coffee.’ She managed a light laugh. ‘And mine’s probably cold by now.’
‘Hmm.’ Evelyn sniffed. ‘Well, you’d better get back to your visitor, then, hadn’t you? Ring me when he’s gone, just so I know you’re okay, right?’
Rachel shook her head. Yeah, right, she thought, but with a casual, ‘Speak to you later,’ she put down the receiver.
CHAPTER TWO (#uf4826211-b0fa-5136-9b0b-d5cc8ec7abee)
W HEN she re-entered the sitting room, Rachel found it was deserted. The empty mug sitting on the glass-topped coffee table in front of the hearth was the only proof she hadn’t imagined her disturbing visitor. Except for Madge Freeman, of course. And that surprisingly testy call from her mother-in-law.
She caught her lower lip between her teeth as a draught of cool air alerted her to the fact that the French doors were partly open. Moving across the room, she saw Joe Mendez on the patio outside, leaning indolently against the basketball post Daisy had had her grandfather erect for her at the beginning of the summer.
As if she’d clumped across the room in hiking boots instead of her bare feet, he turned as she approached the windows. ‘I hope you don’t mind,’ he said as he came towards her. He nodded over his shoulder. ‘Who looks after the yard?’
‘The yard?’ Rachel’s brows drew together for a moment as she backed out of his way. ‘Oh, you mean the garden.’ She grimaced. ‘I do. When I can find the time.’
‘You do a good job,’ he commented, sliding the door closed behind him. ‘It’s nice. Colourful.’
Rachel smiled. ‘That’s probably all the weeds,’ she said modestly. Then, ‘Sorry to be so long. That was my—um—Steve’s mother.’
‘Ah.’ He nodded. ‘Mrs Carlyle.’ He paused, pulling a wry face. ‘Steve asked me to check on them while I was here.’
Rachel stared at him. ‘But you said—’
‘He didn’t ask me to check on you,’ Joe assured her flatly. ‘That was my idea.’
‘To check on me?’
‘No.’ Joe ran a frustrated hand around the back of his neck, his nails scraping over the stubble at his nape. ‘I just wanted to meet you.’ He paused, his dark brows descending. ‘Not a good idea?’
‘No…’ Now it was Rachel’s turn to look uneasy. She was intensely aware of the way his stomach had flexed when he’d raised his arm, biceps clenching, the dark outline of a tattoo just visible below his sleeve. ‘It’s just—’
‘I guess I wanted to reassure you that your daughter will be safe with me,’ he continued, his hand falling to his side again. ‘My pilot’s the best. Totally trustworthy, totally reliable.’
‘Your pilot?’ Rachel blinked, and gave a bewildered shake of her head. ‘Does that mean you’re not using commercial transport?’
‘Didn’t Steve tell you?’
As a matter of fact, Steve hadn’t told her anything, Rachel reflected flatly. The invitation had come in one of his occasional emails to his daughter, and she’d just naturally assumed…
She attempted to regroup. ‘Does Daisy know this?’ she asked, wondering if Daisy had received another message she knew nothing about.
It wasn’t a pleasant thought. She and Daisy had a pretty good relationship, all things considered, and, apart from the usual gripes about homework and curfews, she’d have said her daughter never kept anything from her.
Joe shrugged. ‘I guess so,’ he said, evidently aware of her disapproval. ‘Hey, it’s not a big deal. You can come check out the plane for yourself, if you like.’
Rachel gazed at him incredulously. ‘And that would achieve what, exactly?’ she asked, aware that her voice had risen several notches. ‘I think you’d better go, Mr Mendez. I need to speak to Daisy. If—if you have a number where I can reach you afterwards…’
Joe regarded her closely, those intense dark eyes bringing a surge of colour to her cheeks. ‘Don’t you trust me?’ he asked, and Rachel sucked in a disbelieving breath.
‘I don’t know you, Mr Mendez. I don’t know whether I can trust you or not. I just need to think about what you’ve told me.’
Joe shook his head. ‘Okay.’ There was a faint trace of hostility in his tone now, and Rachel prayed she wasn’t treading on anyone’s toes here. Even Steve’s, she added reluctantly, though why the hell he hadn’t told her what was going on she didn’t know.
‘So, if I can get back to you…’ she ventured unhappily, and then jerked back in alarm when he reached for his jacket lying on the arm of the sofa beside her. For a crazy moment, she’d thought he was reaching for her, and a trace of the panic she’d momentarily felt showed in her face.
But she should have had more sense, she chided herself as he picked up the jacket and searched his inside pocket for a card and a pen. A man like Joe Mendez would have no trouble in finding a woman if he wanted one. He’d scarcely waste his time and energies on a thirty-something divorcée with very ordinary features and dirty-blonde hair.
Linking her fingers tightly together at her waist, she prayed he hadn’t noticed her mistake. For heaven’s sake, what was the matter with her? It wasn’t as if she hadn’t dated anyone since Steve had walked out on her. Okay, she’d only slept with one man, but she should still have remembered the difference between civility and sex.
Meanwhile, Joe was scribbling something on the back of a business card, and after a moment he handed it over. ‘This proves who I am, and I’ve given you my present address,’ he said somewhat drily. ‘I’ve written my cell number, too. Call me when you’ve decided what you want to do.’
‘Thanks.’
Rachel took the card with nervous fingers, unable to deny the jolt of electricity she felt when his hand touched hers. Her eyes darted to his, but she had no idea if he’d been aware of it. There was a guarded quality about his gaze now, and thick black lashes any woman would have envied swept down to obscure his expression.
‘No problem,’ he said, hooking his jacket over one shoulder and heading towards the open door. He swung open the outer door and then paused on the threshold. ‘Tell Daisy I said hi,’ he added tightly before starting down the path to the gate.
Ridiculously, Rachel felt guilty the minute she’d closed the door. She felt as if she’d totally screwed up, and she could imagine how Daisy would react when she told her what had happened. But for goodness’ sake, Mendez was a stranger. To her, at least, she amended with an impatient click of her tongue. Just because Daisy had met him before didn’t mean she had to trust him.
But it was neither his trustworthiness nor Daisy’s probable frustration that accompanied her into the kitchen when she went to rinse out their coffee mugs. It was the effect he had had—was still having, if she was honest—on her. Damn it, the hairs on her neck still prickled when she thought about him. And she could remember every detail about him with a meticulousness that bordered on the extreme.
The sound of the phone ringing was a welcome relief, though she suspected she knew who her caller was. And she was right. ‘Rachel? I thought you were going to ring me when your visitor had gone.’
‘How do you know he has gone?’ muttered Rachel to herself, feeling grumpy, but she managed to adopt a reasonable tone. ‘He’s just left,’ she said brightly. ‘Um—can I speak to Daisy?’
‘No.’ Her mother-in-law didn’t sound very pleased. ‘That was why I was ringing, actually. She’s on her way home. As soon as she heard Mr Mendez was there she insisted on taking off. She’s going to be very disappointed when she gets home and finds he’s not there.’
I’ll bet, thought Rachel drily, and not just because of that. ‘Okay,’ she responded. ‘I expect she’ll give you a ring later.’
‘Hmph.’ Evelyn Carlyle snorted. ‘Well, remind her to do it, will you? We always like to know she’s safely home.’
‘I will.’
Rachel couldn’t believe she was getting off so lightly, but just as she was about to put down the receiver, Evelyn spoke again. ‘So—what did you think of him? Had he only come to reassure you about Daisy’s trip? He lives in Florida, doesn’t he? It’s good of him to offer to escort her, don’t you think?’
Rachel pressed her lips together. But only briefly. ‘Very good,’ she managed, not prepared to get into the details with Evelyn right now. To her relief, she heard a key being inserted in the front door. ‘Oh, this sounds like Daisy now. Speak to you later.’
This time she put the receiver down before Evelyn could say anything else and stood, feeling ridiculously apprehensive as Daisy let herself into the house. The girl looked round expectantly, and then, when her mother didn’t say anything, she exclaimed, ‘Don’t tell me he’s gone!’
‘Afraid so.’ Rachel forced a smile and walked back into the kitchen. The two coffee mugs on the drainer seemed to reproach her, and Daisy, following her, gave an indignant cry.
‘You gave him coffee?’
Rachel busied herself with tidying the counter. ‘Shouldn’t I have done?’ she asked lightly. ‘I always offer visitors coffee, you know that.’
‘So why isn’t he still here? Grandma only rang about twenty minutes ago.’
‘I know.’
‘So what? Didn’t he like the coffee?’
Rachel sighed and said carefully, ‘We’d already had a conversation before your grandmother phoned. You must know that, too. You were at the supermarket when you met Mrs Freeman, weren’t you?’
‘Yes.’ Daisy sounded sulky now.
‘Well, then.’
‘What I don’t understand is why you didn’t ring me and tell me he was here.’ Daisy scowled. ‘You knew I’d like to meet him again.’ She shrugged. ‘Oh, well, I suppose we’ll have plenty of time to talk on the flight.’
