Mendez’s Mistress

by Anne Mather

  ‘Daddy says it’s about nine hours, actually.’

  ‘Well nine hours, then.’ Rachel felt angry again. ‘Oh, yes, your father knew what he was doing when he asked you not to tell me what was going on.’

  Daisy’s lips pursed. ‘It’s not like Mr Mendez is a—a pervert or something.’

  ‘All right. I’ll admit he seems respectable enough…’

  ‘Respectable!’ Daisy scoffed.

  ‘But I should have been given the full story, not just your father’s edited version.’

  ‘I know.’ Daisy sighed. ‘I tried to tell him that. Like, in my emails. But you know what he’s like.’

  Not any more, mused Rachel, aware of a surprising wave of relief at the thought. Suddenly the memory of her ex-husband seemed distant and indistinct, usurped by the image of a man whose raw sexuality had assaulted her senses in a way Steve never had.

  Not wanting Daisy to detect what she was thinking and attribute any of it to her father, Rachel drew a deep breath and opened the door of the fridge. ‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘I’ve said I’ll think about it, and I will. Now, what would you like for lunch? I have to warn you, I expected you to have lunch at Grandma’s, so I don’t have anything special to offer you.’

  Daisy seemed anxious now. But not about her lunch. ‘You’re not thinking of changing your mind, are you, Mum?’ she asked, and Rachel wondered how sincere her daughter’s offer not to go to Florida had really been. ‘I mean, you liked him, didn’t you?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Mr Mendez.’

  Rachel shrugged. ‘He seemed very nice.’ And how insincere was that? ‘But that has nothing to do with it.’

  Daisy was looking really worried, and despite her resentment towards Steve for putting her in this situation, Rachel felt a reluctant surge of sympathy for her. She was only thirteen, after all, and she didn’t deserve to suffer because of their marital politics.

  ‘Just leave it for now,’ she said, taking a carton of eggs out of the fridge to avoid looking at her daughter. ‘How about pancakes? Or would you prefer take-out?’

  The subject was dropped but not forgotten. It was only four days until Daisy was due to leave for Florida, and Rachel knew she couldn’t delay indefinitely.

  After lunch, Daisy disappeared up to her room and Rachel wondered if she was emailing her father with the latest developments. She spent the afternoon expecting an irate email from her ex-husband, but when she checked her mail before closing the computer there were only two messages: one from a friend in London and the other from her agent.

  Supper was not a comfortable meal. Rachel opened a bottle of red wine that she’d been saving for a special occasion—but with Daisy only pushing her pasta round her plate, giving her mother soulful looks every time their eyes met, the effort was wasted.

  Eventually, after blocking every opening her mother tried to make, Daisy said, ‘How’s your book going?’ and Rachel was so taken aback she could hardly think of a response. Daisy had never shown any interest in her writing before, regarding it in much the same light as any child regarded a parent’s occupation.

  ‘Um—it’s going okay,’ she said at last, getting up to pour herself another glass of Merlot. ‘I expect I’ll get it finished while you’re away.’

  ‘So I am going, then?’ Daisy pounced on the admission.

  ‘I expect so.’ Rachel wished she hadn’t brought the subject up again.

  ‘Oh, good.’ Daisy leant forward and attacked her plate with renewed enthusiasm. ‘I knew you wouldn’t really stop me from going.’

  Rachel shook her head, but she didn’t deny it. How could she? But she did intend to speak to her ex-husband about the arrangements as soon as Daisy was asleep.

  She managed to catch Steve before he went out for the evening. He was predictably miffed at receiving a call from his ex-wife at home. Any communication between them—infrequent though it was—was usually conducted during office hours, and he was even more annoyed when he heard why Rachel wanted to speak to him.

  ‘Oh, for pity’s sake, Rache!’ he exclaimed, using the abbreviation of her name that she’d never liked. ‘What’s your problem? I’d have thought you’d be pleased she wasn’t having to travel in an economy seat. Besides, Mendez is a great guy. I don’t know what kind of creeps you’ve been dating since you and I split, but take my word for it, you’ve got nothing to worry about from him.’

  Rachel took a deep breath, pressing her lips together for a moment to prevent the angry retort she wanted to make. Then she said stiffly, ‘Very well. But I wish you’d contacted me before making different arrangements.’

  ‘Yeah, right.’ Steve was sardonic. ‘Why do you think I—?’ He broke off and another feminine voice could be heard in the background. ‘I know, I know. I’m coming, baby,’ he said in an aside, and then, his tone sharpening, ‘So, when Mendez gets in touch with you, you won’t put up any objections, right?’

  ‘When he…?’ Rachel licked her lips. ‘Well, as a matter of fact, he’s already been in touch.’

  ‘He has?’ Steve was wary.

  ‘Yes.’ Rachel hesitated. ‘He came to the house today.’

  Steve swore to himself, and once again Rachel heard that other voice, which must have been Lauren’s, making some kind of protest. ‘Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,’ he said again, his tone much less indulgent now. There was another brief exchange and then he addressed himself to Rachel again. ‘Don’t tell me you let Mendez know how you felt? Damn it, Rache, the man owns the company!’

  Rachel stifled a groan. Until that moment, she’d been assuring herself that it had to be Joe Mendez’s father who was the real power behind Mendez Macrosystems, but now she was forced to revise her opinion.

  ‘I—I may have done,’ she allowed in a low voice, and Steve swore again.

  ‘Are you completely crazy?’ he demanded angrily. ‘For God’s sake, Rachel, do you want me to lose my job? Is that what this is all about?’

  Rachel had been feeling rather guilty for creating a difficult situation, but Steve’s attitude really ticked her off. ‘You have to be joking,’ she retorted coldly. ‘Why would I want to run the risk of forcing you to return to England? Believe me, Steve, I have no desire to see your lying face again.’

  She’d slammed down the receiver and was standing, staring at the phone, when she heard a stair creak behind her. She turned in time to see Daisy, dressed only in the vest and shorts she used to sleep in, creeping cautiously back up the stairs. She’d obviously heard at least the end of what her mother had said, and her cheeks turned pink with embarrassment when Rachel spoke her name.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she muttered, looking shamefaced. ‘I didn’t realise it was Dad you were talking to. I—I thought something might have happened to Granddad or Grandma.’

  Rachel doubted that, but she wasn’t in the mood to start another argument. Not tonight. ‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘I just wanted to speak to your father about the arrangements. Go on back to bed. There’s nothing for you to worry about. I’ll be up myself in a few minutes.’

  Daisy hesitated. ‘You and Dad are never likely to get back together, are you?’ she murmured regretfully, and Rachel thought how depressing it was when a child was involved.

  ‘No,’ she said gently. ‘I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s just not going to happen.’

  ‘Oh, well.’ Daisy shrugged. ‘I guess I can live with it. I mean, you’re bound to meet someone else someday. Someone really nice. Not like Lauren at all.’

  It was after midnight when Rachel tumbled into bed, but for once she didn’t immediately fall asleep. Usually her eyes were so tired she lost consciousness the minute her head touched the pillow, but tonight her mind was too active to relax.

  It was ringing Steve so late, she decided. With the time lag, she’d had to wait until after eleven to catch him at home. But it hadn’t been something she’d wanted to discuss while he was at the office, even on his mobile phone, with possibly a receptionist or a secretary listening i
n.

  However, it wasn’t Steve’s image that kept her awake until the early hours. It wasn’t his blond good looks and slim athleticism that haunted her sleep. The image she found behind her eyes was that of Joe Mendez, whose tough, somewhat ruthless features and muscled profile ticked every one of the boxes Daisy might have desired…

  CHAPTER THREE

  THERE was someone at the door. Rachel could hear the bell ringing quite clearly and she struggled up in bed, wondering who on earth would call at this hour of the morning.

  But it wasn’t the doorbell. As soon as she sat up and got her bearings, she realised it was the phone beside the bed that had awakened her. It was silent now. Daisy must have answered it downstairs, she thought resignedly. It wasn’t like her daughter to be up so early, but it was holiday time, not a school morning; go figure.

  What time was it? she wondered, groping for the small travelling clock she kept beside the bed. She was horrified when she saw it was after ten o’clock. She rarely slept in, but after the restless night she’d had it was hardly surprising. She must have fallen asleep eventually, but right now she felt decidedly rough.

  Pushing her legs out of bed, she swayed a little as she got to her feet. Too much red wine, she thought, hauling on her towelling bathrobe and opening the bedroom door. Wasn’t it just typical that, the one morning someone chose to call her this early, she was still in bed?

  She almost jumped out of her skin when the phone began to ring again. She’d stepped out onto the landing, wondering where Daisy had got to, when its insistent peal assaulted her ears. Daisy could answer it, she thought, starting down the stairs. It was most likely someone for her.

  But Daisy didn’t answer it and Rachel looked back up the stairs, wondering if her daughter had slept in too. Daisy’s bedroom door was closed, but that didn’t prove anything. She tended to regard her bedroom as her private space, and Rachel rarely intruded without an invitation.

  Continuing down the stairs, Rachel picked up the receiver in the hall. ‘Yes?’ she said, the headache that was beginning to throb behind her temples making her sound snappy.

  ‘Rachel?’ Her throat dried. Oh God, it was him again. Joe Mendez. He must be ringing to find out what she’d decided. Had he spoken to Steve? ‘I just wanted—’

  ‘To know about Daisy,’ she interrupted him quickly. ‘I did intend to ring you later today.’

  ‘No.’ Joe spoke crisply. ‘I didn’t ring you to find out about Daisy. I know you’ve agreed to let her go. She told me so herself.’

  Rachel blinked. ‘She told you?’ She was confused.

  ‘Wait a second.’ There was a momentary shifting of the phone, a muffled protest, and then a reluctant voice said, ‘Hello, Mum.’

  It was Daisy. Rachel groped for the oak chest that served as both a place to drop the mail and somewhere to sit to change one’s shoes and sank down onto it. ‘Daisy!’ Her voice cracked. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Don’t be mad, Mum.’ Daisy, at least, knew how she was feeling. ‘I had to come and see Mr Mendez. I had to tell him you were okay with me travelling with him.’

  Rachel felt dazed. ‘Why?’

  ‘Well, because I heard what you said to Dad, and I didn’t—’

  ‘Anything I said to your father was between us two, do you understand that?’ Rachel’s headache felt so much worse now. ‘Honestly, Daisy, I thought I could trust you. Now—now I don’t know what to think.’

  ‘Oh, Mum.’

  ‘Where are you, anyway?’

  ‘At—at Mr Mendez’s house.’

  ‘His house?’ Rachel was stunned. ‘How did you know where he was staying?’

  ‘It was on his card,’ muttered Daisy unhappily. ‘You just left it in the hall, and I—I picked it up.’

  ‘Oh, Daisy!’ Rachel could hardly take it in. ‘You had no right to read that card, let alone go out without my permission to visit someone you hardly know!’

  ‘Don’t be like that, Mum, please.’

  ‘How do you expect me to be?’ Rachel felt her temper rising. ‘I can’t believe you’d do something so deceitful. Particularly as I’ve been awake half the night worrying about this trip.’ Well, that was only partly true, but Daisy didn’t need to know that. ‘And now I discover you’ve taken matters into your own hands.’

  There was another muffled exchange and then Joe said, ‘Sorry if this has been a bit of a shock. I guess you’ve been wondering where Daisy was. I’m going to bring her home, but I felt I ought to let you know she’s okay.’

  Rachel’s shoulders hunched. She was too ashamed to say she hadn’t even known her daughter had gone out, but she managed a polite, ‘That was kind of you.’

  ‘Yeah, well.’ She suspected he might have detected the irony in her voice and his next words seemed to prove it. ‘Don’t be too hard on her, right? I think she meant well.’

  Rachel tried not to feel resentful that this man—this stranger—felt he had the right to advise her about how to treat her daughter. But all she said was, ‘Thanks. I appreciate your comments,’ and rang off before indignation got the better of politeness.

  However, as soon as she’d replaced the receiver she realised she had no idea where Joe’s—house? Hotel?—was. She’d hardly glanced at his card. And now she could only guess how much time she might have before they got here.

  She was desperate for a cup of coffee, but she didn’t dare wait while it brewed. Instead, she spooned grains into the filter and left it to percolate while she took a swift shower.

  Her hair was still damp when she stood in front of the mirror in her bedroom, surveying her appearance. Tucking the artificially darkened strands back behind her ears, she decided it didn’t look too bad. It was foolish, she knew, but instead of her usual working gear of shorts and a cotton top she’d chosen to wear a dress. It was a simple camisole, in shades of cream and brown, which she thought complemented her lightly tanned skin. The dress ended at her knees, and she left her legs bare.

  The shower had eased her headache somewhat, but she took two paracetamol with her coffee. Then, realising she hadn’t put on any make-up, she dashed back upstairs, and was in the process of brushing a bronze shadow onto her lids when she heard a car in the road outside.

  Her hand shook for a moment, and she was forced to repair the damage before realising she hadn’t time to put on any lipstick now. She could hear Daisy opening the door downstairs and, praying she didn’t look as nervous as she felt, Rachel smoothed damp palms over her hips and left the room.

  Descending the stairs, she felt as if she’d timed her entrance. Which simply wasn’t true. She would have much preferred to be drinking her coffee in the kitchen when they arrived, and she hoped Joe didn’t think it was deliberate.

  Still, she couldn’t prevent her eyes from sliding over him before they fastened on her daughter. He was more formally dressed this morning, his charcoal-grey suit and lighter grey shirt fairly screaming their designer label. His only concession to the occasion was the fact that he wasn’t wearing a tie. The top two buttons of his shirt weren’t fastened and, as she came down the stairs, she was offered a disturbing glimpse of night-dark hair in the opening.

  Predictably, it was Daisy who spoke first. ‘You look nice, Mum,’ she said, and Rachel felt an embarrassing wave of colour surge into her face. Not that she didn’t know what Daisy was trying to do. Her daughter wasn’t exactly subtle.

  But Joe was watching and, although her eyes promised retribution later on, she said, ‘Thank you.’ Then, more pointedly, ‘You should have let me know you were going out.’

  ‘I didn’t want to wake you,’ said Daisy blithely, and Rachel hoped that Joe didn’t think she often overslept.

  ‘How thoughtful,’ she managed, before turning to their visitor. ‘I’m sorry about this, Mr Mendez. I had no idea Daisy would come to your house.’

  ‘No problem.’ His dark eyes were disturbingly intent as they rested on her hot face, and Rachel felt as if her insides had turned to liquid. ‘S
he’s quite a character, your daughter.’ His mouth twisted. ‘And very entertaining.’

  ‘Is she?’ Rachel wondered what Daisy had been saying to inspire that kind of response.

  But before she could say anything else he spoke again. ‘Well, I guess I better get going. I’ve got a lunch meeting with some business colleagues at twelve o’clock.’

  Rachel licked her lips. ‘You wouldn’t like some coffee before you leave?’ she ventured, and then chided herself anew when he shook his head.

  ‘Not right now, thanks,’ he said, pulling a face at Daisy when she showed her disappointment. His gaze switched back to Rachel. ‘How would it be if I called you later about the arrangements for Monday? I’ve got your number, if you’ll forgive the pun.’

  Rachel nodded. ‘This afternoon, you mean?’

  ‘Or this evening?’ He gave her a quizzical look. ‘Will you be in?’

  Most definitely, thought Rachel ruefully, but she managed to sound as if she’d had to think about it. ‘I’ll be here,’ she agreed.

  ‘Great.’ A trace of a smile appeared. ‘Speak to you later then.’

  As she watched him walk down the path to the gate, Rachel wondered what had ever possessed her to think that he’d want to spend any more time with her than he had to. He’d done the gentlemanly thing and brought Daisy home, but that was that. Job done.

  She closed the door without waiting for him to get into his car. After Monday, she’d probably never see him again. And that was just as well for all concerned. Now all she had to do was deal with Daisy who, she noticed wryly, had already made herself scarce….

  Joe drove back to his house in Eaton Court Mews with an odd sense of frustration. He felt as if he’d handled the whole business with Rachel Carlyle badly. But, damn it, he was doing her a favour here, wasn’t he? So why the hell did he feel as if he was in the wrong?