Mendoza's Secret Fortune

by Marie Ferrarella

  “You want to step outside?” Matteo challenged his brother.

  “Later,” Cisco replied calmly, as if they were having an actual discussion, “to get the next load after we put this one wherever it’s supposed to go.”

  Matteo’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not what I meant,” he said under his breath, only loud enough for his brother to hear.

  “But that’s what you should have meant,” Cisco answered cheerfully, as if he were the soul of reason and hadn’t a clue what was bothering Matteo. “You coming?” he asked as he nodded toward the break room. “Or are you saving your back for a rainy day?”

  At that precise moment, Matteo could have strangled him—but there were far too many witnesses around. Instead, he pushed the dolly down the hall, his biceps straining and displaying an impressive network of definition.

  The view wasn’t lost on Rachel.

  * * *

  It went like that for most of the delivery. Barbs between the brothers were exchanged, fast and furiously at every available opportunity. It continued even though Orlando had upbraided both his sons, taking advantage of Rachel stepping out of the room.

  He knew that Matteo would take Cisco’s ribbing only so long and then he’d come back giving as good—or better—than he got. He didn’t want this growing conflict to get out of hand—and he didn’t care for the fact that it was on display where someone outside the family could be privy to it.

  Especially the woman who was apparently at the center of the reason for this conflict.

  “What has gotten into you?” Orlando demanded of Cisco, drawing him over to one side.

  “Just making sure that little brother makes the most of his opportunities.”

  Confused, Orlando stared at his older son. “Really? Well, from here it looks like you are doing your best to undermine Matteo and run him into the ground right in front of that young woman.”

  “You are right, Dad,” Cisco agreed, stunning his father with what seemed like an admission. “It looks that way. But it’s not.”

  Walking into the break room, Cisco frowned at the mini refrigerator that he and Matteo had brought up earlier. He turned to his father and said, “Someone’s going to have to call a plumber to hook this baby up if they want it up and running when they finally open their doors to the public in April.”

  Matteo paused to look at the connections and the capped-off copper tubing. “They don’t need a plumber,” he told his father. “I can hook this up. I’ve got a toolbox in your truck.” Passing his father, he promised, “Be right back.”

  “You are a handy little guy to have around, aren’t you?” Cisco proclaimed with a laugh.

  Matteo stopped for a second right next to his brother. “You call me little one more time and it’s not my handy side that you’ll be seeing.”

  Cisco looked amused to have riled his younger brother to this point. “Tempting as that might be to witness, I will do my best to curb my desire to refer to you as little,” Cisco told him.

  Matteo made no reply as he left the room and took the stairs to the ground floor. He apparently needed to blow off some steam.

  Neither brother realized that they were being watched and that Rachel had heard the entire exchange between them.

  * * *

  Because the physical preparation of the Foundation’s offices were part of her duties, Rachel made herself accessible the entire time the Mendozas were at the Foundation. It didn’t matter whether they were unloading the truck or bringing up the various pieces of furniture and appliances. She made sure that she was right there, ready to help in any way that was necessary.

  Unlike the previous occasions when Matteo and his father made deliveries, with Cisco present, Matteo didn’t do much talking. Because Rachel didn’t want to get in the middle of whatever was going on between the two brothers, she found herself doing a great deal of talking to their father.

  The senior Mendoza was a strikingly handsome man who was every bit as charming as Cisco and just as warm and genuine as Matteo. As she spoke to the man, discussing work and his family, she delicately inquired how he was getting along on his own after having been married for so long.

  Orlando took a moment to frame his reply.

  “I am not surprised that you know,” he told her. “You strike me as a very intelligent young lady who makes a point of looking into people’s backgrounds if you are going to be dealing with them on any sort of a long-term basis.”

  He had her pegged, she thought. At least, he had the old Rachel pegged. The one who had yet to be blown out of the water by her own father. Reconstructing a life wasn’t easy after discovering that the person you thought you knew was a complete and total stranger to you—like her father was to her.

  The worst part of it, she thought now, was that she hadn’t actually been able to confront her father about her discovery. She had found it easier to leave home, spouting some nonsense about finding herself.

  But for right now, she was focusing on Orlando. “You didn’t answer my question,” she pointed out gently.

  “No, I didn’t,” Orlando agreed. Then, because he knew she meant well and wasn’t being nosy, he told her, “I’m getting along as well as possible, seeing as how she was the light of my soul and she was taken from me much too early.” With a vague little shrug, Orlando went on to say, “I miss her every day. I suspect I will until the day I die.”

  “You should try going out,” Rachel suggested sympathetically.

  He looked at her as if she had suggested that he run naked through traffic at twilight.

  “From what you told me, your wife sounds like she was a lovely lady who wouldn’t have wanted you to go on grieving for her endlessly. She’d want you to go out, to have a good time and to meet other people.”

  The idea of putting himself out there after all these years was not an appealing one. “No, I think that, at least for now, I should remain on the sidelines. I have plenty to keep me occupied,” he added quickly, building up his excuses so that this young woman would refrain from the idea of playing matchmaker in case that was her inclination. “There is my job, flying cargo to various places, not to mention playing referee between my two sons. Although, I must say, I can see why they would be butting heads over you.”

  She could feel her cheeks reddening again. “Now, don’t you start,” Rachel warned him, half kidding. He was, after all, a Mendoza, and his sons had to get their flirtatious personas from somewhere. Orlando raised his hands as if in surrender. “I only made an observation. After all, I am not blind, and even I can see how very lovely you are.”

  Laughing, she shook her head. “I can see that Cisco inherited his silver tongue from you.”

  Orlando dramatically placed his hand over his heart. “Please, senorita, you make me blush.”

  “Not hardly, Senor Mendoza,” she responded, looking at him knowingly. “Not hardly.”

  * * *

  Matteo and Cisco worked hard to set up the break room. Even so, Cisco made sure that he had time to interact with Rachel several times during the length of their workday—and always in full view of Matteo. The latter seemed determined to continue working nonstop—especially when Rachel tried to talk to him. She made three attempts at having a conversation with Matteo, but each time, he made it clear that he was busy with some other part of the shipment, unable—and possibly unwilling—to take the time to stop and talk with her.

  By the time the three men were ready to leave, she was more than willing to see them go. At least when it came to Matteo. His deliberate inattention toward her had stung.

  Picking up on the tension that was humming between the duo, Cisco leaned in and told her—quite audibly—“Don’t worry. He’ll get over it.”

  Whatever “it” was, she thought.

  “I’m not worried and I really don’t care,” she i
nformed Cisco with a toss of her head. She made a point of completely ignoring Matteo, acting as if he wasn’t even there. After all, a woman had her pride, Rachel thought. Without it, she was nothing, and she for one was determined never to feel that way, not even for five minutes.

  “See you around, beautiful,” Cisco said cheerfully by way of parting.

  “See you around,” she echoed, holding on to the receipt that Orlando had given her for that day’s deliveries.

  Orlando hung behind and gave her a courtly bow. “Thank you for everything—and I do apologize for my sons,” he emphasized again.

  “You have only one to apologize for,” Rachel pointed out. “The other one—Cisco—” she added in case there was any doubt “—was very charming.”

  It was obvious that Orlando had another opinion on the matter, but he didn’t contradict her. Instead, he said, “Perhaps that is why I need to apologize—for the other one,” he emphasized. “Do not write him off too quickly, please.”

  Maybe there was a misunderstanding about all this, she thought. “I’m not looking for anything right now, Senor Mendoza.”

  Orlando gave her another small, courtly bow. “Understood,” he told her.

  He withdrew from the room and then from the building. Both of his sons were waiting in the truck. He intended to give one of them hell, but not necessarily the one that Rachel had assumed would be on the receiving end.

  * * *

  “Idiot!”

  The word echoed around her apartment—not for the first time.

  Rachel called herself a fool for caring about Matteo. She knew she should consider herself lucky that she had been made privy to his sullen side before things had really heated up between them.

  It would have been so much worse if she had fallen in love with him, she thought, roaming around her ground-floor apartment like a caged tiger, unable to find a place for herself. Everywhere she sat down felt all wrong. She felt all wrong.

  She’d never felt this restless before.

  And he had done that to her, she thought angrily. Matteo Mendoza had taken her goodwill and her affections and made mincemeat out of them, treating her like less than a stranger just because his brother had flirted with her. She certainly hadn’t done anything to encourage Cisco.

  Was Matteo afraid she would become enamored with the flirtatious words his brother was spouting? Did he really think so little of her that he assumed she’d just fall all over herself if his brother flashed a sexy smile at her and acted as if he was interested?

  And why was she wasting time sulking about Matteo when she should be purging all thoughts of him out of her head? She hadn’t done anything wrong and Matteo had barely talked to her today.

  As a matter of fact, he hadn’t talked to her. He’d just grunted and uttered single-word sentences. Well, that wasn’t going to fly, not where she was concerned.

  Rachel looked around her apartment. Suddenly it felt too small to her. She felt trapped, as if she needed to get out.

  But where and with whom?

  She hadn’t made too many close friends here aside from Shannon—who was now occupied with her new family-to-be—and that was her own fault. She’d been leery of getting hurt again. Her father, she thought not for the first time, had done some number on her.

  What she needed to do was swear off any contact with men whatsoever, young or old.

  Right now, that didn’t seem like a hard thing to do.

  When the doorbell rang, it caught her completely by surprise. She wasn’t expecting anyone, and she didn’t know anyone who was prone to paying visits at the drop of a hat.

  When the doorbell rang again, she came to the conclusion that whoever was on the other side of the door was not about to go home until she gave the order. And right now, she was angry enough to do exactly that.

  Swinging the door open, she shouted, “Go away!” just as she came face-to-face with her uninvited guest.

  And found herself looking at Matteo.

  Chapter Ten

  For a second, she could only stare at him.

  “Matteo, what are you doing here?” Rachel finally managed to ask. He was the very last person she would have expected to turn up on her doorstep tonight.

  Or, considering today’s display at the Foundation, ever.

  All the way over to her apartment, Matteo tried to talk himself out of coming to see her. At each corner, he told himself to turn the car around and go back. If he went through with this, he was only setting himself up for a fall. Rachel was going to break his heart. He was sure of it.

  Coming here tonight, feeling the way he did, was not a good idea, he muttered to himself as he drove.

  Yet somehow he couldn’t get himself to turn around, couldn’t make himself pull over and rethink his next move.

  Carefully.

  It was as if he was on automatic pilot and had no real say or control over what he was about to do.

  Though he was afraid of what he would see, Matteo looked over Rachel’s shoulder into her apartment—or what he could see of it.

  “Am I interrupting anything?” he asked her, his voice low, bordering on an accusation.

  “Yes, you’re interrupting something,” she informed him, her hands on her hips and her eyebrows furrowing. “You’re interrupting my efforts to secure some peace and quiet, which, after the kind of day I just had, would be desperately appreciated.”

  “You’re sure that’s all I’m interrupting?” Matteo asked pointedly.

  Granted, he hadn’t seen Cisco’s car when he’d driven up, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t parked somewhere on the other side of the small apartment complex. And it certainly didn’t mean that his brother wasn’t here, perhaps even in her bedroom, waiting for him to leave.

  Matteo looked at her, his sensitive face dark, his eyes pinning her in place. “I’m not interrupting your date?”

  “What date?” she demanded. She was getting really angry at his attitude, and she was more than a little insulted.

  He’d gone this far. He might as well spit out the rest of it, even though something within him wanted him to retreat. “With Cisco.”

  Rachel tossed her head, struggling to contain her anger.

  “I have no date with Cisco,” she informed Matteo coldly. “If I did, I wouldn’t try to hide it. But I don’t. So now you have your answer, and you can go back to wherever it was you came from.”

  Angry, hurt, insulted, Rachel started to slam the door on him, but Matteo put his hand up against it. He was a great deal stronger than she was, and he kept the door exactly where it was.

  Exasperated, Rachel cried, “What do you want from me?”

  Had he cared about her less, he would have behaved more rationally. But this was brand-new territory for him, and he was having trouble finding his way.

  No more games, he told himself. Just the truth. “I came to ask you a question.”

  She could see that she wasn’t going to be rid of Matteo until he got this—whatever this was—off his chest. She resigned herself to hearing him out.

  “All right, ask your question. The sooner you ask, the sooner you can go away,” she retorted.

  He was putting himself out on a limb, hanging fifty feet above the ground, vulnerable and stark naked. But it had to be done. He needed to know. So he asked her, “Which brother are you interested in?”

  Whatever she was expecting him to ask, it wasn’t this.

  Rachel blinked. “What?”

  Was she deliberately making this even harder than it already was for him? “It’s a simple enough question,” he told Rachel, his voice devoid of any emotion. “Which Mendoza brother are you interested in?”

  Half a dozen answers sprang to her lips, jockeying for first place. But they all faded back. Rising out of her hurt
feelings, none of her possible responses were honest. And she had learned to treasure honesty above all else—even though, right now, she was sorely tempted to shout Neither of them!

  “I should just throw you out on your ear,” she told him. “But if you must have an answer, I’ll give you one. It’s you. It’s been you all along, and I really should have my head examined, because the first man I lose my heart to in five years turns out to be a crazy person.” Her hand was back on the doorknob, and she was all set to close the door. All she needed him to do was to take a step back. “All right, you have your answer. Now go.”

  It had taken a moment for her initial words to sink in.

  Him.

  She’d picked him.

  And that changed everything.

  Instantly.

  “I have feelings for you, too,” he told her quietly, the edge gone from his voice.

  As if she really believed that, Rachel thought angrily. “They tell me that’s not fatal,” she said sarcastically. “You’ll get over it.”

  Suddenly he realized all he stood to lose right at this moment, because he had acted like an idiot. He knew he had to make her understand why he’d come here tonight—and why he’d acted so bullheaded this afternoon.

  “I’m serious, Rachel. I don’t want to get over it. I know I behaved a little strangely today—”

  She laughed shortly, interrupting him. “I see you’re given to understatement. I had no idea,” she told him tersely.

  Matteo didn’t have a single clue how to start making amends for his behavior or pleading his case, other than to apologize sincerely—as many times as he needed to until the apology finally took.

  “Rachel, I’m sorry. I really am,” he told her. “It’s just that Cisco was acting as if you and he had something going on between you—and I just lost it.”

  “If that’s what you thought, you could have come out and asked me instead of skulking around like some angry, jealous admirer,” she told him.

  She was right, and he didn’t have a leg to stand on if he wanted to mount an argument for his side. His best recourse was to throw himself at her mercy.