by Anne Mather
‘Rachel,’ he breathed, aware of a totally ridiculous lift of his spirits. Had she heard he was coming back to Miami? Without bothering to put on any clothes, he emerged from the bedroom wearing only a towel slung about his hips for decency’s sake.
But it wasn’t Rachel.
The two women had evidently heard his approach, and when he reached the living room door the younger turned from addressing Marla to give him a beaming smile.
‘Darling!’ Shelley Adair exclaimed, rushing across the room to fling her arms around his neck. Her glossy mouth sought his without hesitation, her thinly clad body pressed seductively to his, anticipating his response.
But Joe couldn’t respond. Not in the way she expected, anyway. For the first time in his life, her alluring beauty left him cold. She’d obviously taken some trouble over her appearance; her filmy silk sheath clung to the slender lines of her body. But he realised, with a sense of disbelief, that he preferred a woman with more flesh on her bones, a woman who didn’t regard her appearance as the most important factor of her life.
Yet, despite his instinctive withdrawal, Shelley didn’t seem to notice. Or purported not to, at least. ‘I’ve missed you so much,’ she said, apparently putting his reticence down to Marla’s presence. ‘Have you missed me, darling? I know I couldn’t wait until November to see you again. And when I had a couple of days free…’
Joe was hardly listening. Looking over Shelley’s shoulder, he met Marla’s eyes and knew she wasn’t deceived. ‘Um—make up one of the guestrooms for Ms Adair,’ he said tightly. Then, easing himself away from Shelley. ‘Give me a minute, will you? I’ll just get dressed.’
‘But Marla doesn’t need to make up a room for me,’ Shelley protested, her narrow brows drawing together as the possible reasons for his behaviour seemed to occur to her. ‘I can share your room, can’t I?’ She gave a slightly nervous laugh. ‘Unless you’ve got someone else in there?’
‘No, I—’ Joe found himself stumbling over the words. ‘That is—Make up the guestroom, Marla. Ms Adair will tell you how long she’s staying.’
Shelley’s mouth had turned sulky now. ‘What’s going on here, Joe?’ she demanded. ‘Why are you being like this?’
‘Would Ms Adair like a drink or some coffee?’ suggested Marla, evidently doing her bit to ease the situation.
‘Why don’t you go and do whatever it was you were doing before I got here?’ snapped Shelley, in no mood to be mollified by a housekeeper.
‘And why don’t you sit down and calm yourself while I get some clothes on?’ said Joe, refusing to let her rile him. ‘Thanks, Marla. You can go. I’ll let you know if I need you.’
Marla, who also had a fiery temper, took his advice. But the door had hardly closed behind her before Shelley sprang into the attack again.
‘What the hell do you mean, embarrassing me in front of your servant?’ she demanded, almost stamping her foot in fury.
‘We don’t have servants in this country, Shelley,’ said Joe mildly. ‘Marla is my housekeeper. And you embarrassed yourself.’ He paused. ‘You should have phoned before you left England, and I’d have explained the situation. But as you’re here, you’re welcome to stay as long as you like.’
Shelley stared at him. ‘So why am I being given the cold shoulder? I read about your father, and I’m sure it’s been a difficult time for you. As a matter of fact, I was in two minds whether to fly to New York. But then I remembered you’d told me you were going to spend some time in Florida, and besides, I didn’t want to intrude on your family at a time like this.’
‘Yeah, well…’ Joe was starting to feel chilled, and the beginning of a headache was probing like needles at his temples. ‘As I say, the condo’s yours if you want to use it. I’m leaving tomorrow anyway. I want to get back to New York.’
Shelley gasped. ‘You’re not serious!’
‘I’m afraid I am.’
‘But I’ve flown all this way just to spend some time with you.’
‘I know, and I’m sorry.’ But Joe knew there was little sympathy in his voice. ‘You should have contacted me before you booked your flight. Naturally, I’ll reimburse you for your ticket.’
Shelley sniffed. ‘You think money can buy anything, don’t you?’ she choked.
‘No.’ But Joe suspected he had, until Rachel had proved him wrong.
‘Well, you can keep your money,’ said Shelley now. ‘And you can shove your offer of the condo. I’m leaving, Joe, and if I walk out that door you’ll never see me again.’
Rachel travelled home from London on the early-evening train.
She’d had a very successful day. The new book had been completed a week ago, and Marcia had rung to say the publishers had loved it. Today’s lunch at the Ritz had been her way of thanking Rachel for allowing her to represent her. And although the book had proved harder to complete than either of her other two novels, evidently it hadn’t affected her writing.
But now she was heading home again. And although she’d been initially buoyed by the compliments that had been paid her, as the shadows lengthened so too did her sense of isolation.
Which was ridiculous, really. She wanted to go home. Of course she did. If only to tell Daisy all about her day. She also wanted to see her face when she gave her the video iPod she’d bought for her in Oxford Street. It was like the one she’d insisted Daisy leave with the nurses for safe-keeping when she’d left the clinic. Rachel had been sure that they’d be happy to have the excuse to contact Joe again, particularly as he hadn’t been around since that devastating night at the house on Biscayne Bay.
Daisy had been quite put out about it. Not knowing all the facts, she’d come to the conclusion that he’d got bored with her company. Were all men like her father? she’d asked Rachel, and Rachel’s heart had ached for her daughter. Ached for herself, too, she acknowledged now. He’d obviously found something—or someone—else to keep him amused.
Thankfully, Daisy’s condition had continued to improve, and Dr Gonzales had been extremely pleased with her progress. However, as Joe had suspected, it was another ten days before he allowed her to fly home to England.
Having rejected Joe’s offer of accommodation, Rachel had been inordinately grateful when Dr Gonzales had offered them both rooms in the convalescent wing of the clinic. It had been so much better for Daisy than living in the stuffy confines of the Park Plaza hotel. Although Steve had visited his daughter again before he left, he and Lauren had departed for New York on schedule.
Daisy had gone back to school two days ago and was already a minor celebrity, according to her. Naturally, she’d glossed over her father’s part in it. Instead, she’d concentrated on telling her friends how she’d flown in a private jet and spent time in a famous clinic. She’d had to tell them about her operation to excuse the hair that had been shaved from her head. But the Johansens’ Miami mansion and their luxurious yacht had probably figured far more prominently than her tumble into the ocean.
It was cool outside the station. It was September, and already the nights were drawing in. Rachel looked about her, surprised to find that Howard and Daisy hadn’t come to meet her. They usually did after one of her infrequent trips to London, but tonight there was no sign of Howard’s modest car.
Trying not to worry—Daisy’s health was always foremost in her thoughts—Rachel found a taxi and gave the driver her in-laws’ address. Daisy was supposed to have gone there after school. Lynnie always gave her something to eat—Daisy was usually hungry—and then prepared a meal for when Rachel got home.
There was a strange car parked in the Carlyles’ driveway, Rachel saw as she got out of the cab. Immediately her heart skipped a beat. Who could it be? she wondered anxiously. The Carlyles had few visitors. She prayed that nothing had happened to any of them. It looked suspiciously like the doctor’s car.
She hurried up the path to the house. She had a key and she let herself into the hall without further ado. She could hear voices from the front room t
hat was only used on special occasions. Her heart almost stopped altogether. Could it be Joe?
Then the sitting-room door opened and Evelyn stood on the threshold. Her face was flushed and excited, and Rachel knew at once that it wasn’t bad news she had to deliver. ‘Come and see who’s here!’ she exclaimed, not allowing Rachel to take off her coat before pulling her into the room. ‘It’s Steve. Isn’t that wonderful news?’
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
RACHEL slept badly.
It had been an exhausting day and she was tired, but her brain was too active to sleep. The scene in her mother-in-law’s sitting room kept going round and round in her head, and no matter what she did she couldn’t relax.
Steve had had no right to come crying to his mum and dad just because his marriage to Lauren had hit a bad patch, she brooded resentfully, and then chided herself for the thought. They were his parents, after all, not hers.
All the same, it was hard for her to feel any sympathy for him. This was the man who’d walked out on her and Daisy nine years ago, who’d abandoned his wife and daughter in favour of a much younger woman. He’d had no sympathy for them then. He’d virtually cut them out of his life.
She was up at six, making herself a cup of coffee, when Daisy appeared in the kitchen doorway. Like Rachel, she wasn’t dressed, and judging from the puffy circles around her eyes, she hadn’t slept too well either.
‘Hi,’ she said, sliding in and slumping down into a chair at the table. ‘May I have some of that?’
Rachel looked surprised. ‘Since when have you liked coffee?’
‘It’s okay.’ Daisy was dismissive. ‘I had some when I was staying with Dad and Lauren. They don’t drink tea, you know?’
‘Don’t they?’ Rachel would have preferred not to think about Daisy’s father. ‘Oh, well, it’s what you’re used to, I suppose.’
‘Mmm.’ Daisy put her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her hands. ‘I suppose I could have had tea if I’d wanted, but it was easier just to go with the flow.’
Rachel nodded. ‘Well, the kettle’s boiled, so you can please yourself. If you’d prefer tea, I’ll make you a cup.’
Daisy lifted her shoulders. ‘I don’t really care.’ She paused. ‘Perhaps I’ll just have orange juice. Is that all right?’
Rachel sighed. ‘Daisy, you can have whatever you like.’
‘Okay.’ Daisy sounded a little miffed now and, getting up from the table, she went to get the carton of orange juice from the fridge. ‘Whatever.’
Rachel watched as the girl filled a glass with the juice, and then when Daisy resumed her seat at the table, she poured her coffee and joined her. ‘So,’ she said brightly, ‘You’re up early.’
Daisy pulled a face. ‘So’re you.’
‘Yes.’ Rachel took a sip of the coffee, savouring the flavour of the beans. Then, deciding to take the bull by the horns, ‘Didn’t you sleep well?’
Daisy shrugged. ‘Did you?’
‘No.’ Rachel sighed. ‘I had a really bad night, actually.’ She grimaced and then added with rather less discretion, ‘So what’s new?’
Daisy frowned. ‘Don’t you usually sleep well?’
‘Oh…’ Rachel didn’t want to worry her daughter. Daisy didn’t need to know that she hadn’t slept well since that night at Joe’s house. ‘I sleep okay. How about you? Have you got a headache? Is that why you’re up so early?’
‘No.’ Daisy shook her head. ‘And if you’re still worrying about my operation, don’t. I hardly ever feel it now.’
‘That’s good.’
‘Yes.’ Daisy still looked troubled. ‘But I didn’t sleep very well either.’ She paused, drawing her upper lip between her teeth and gazing at her mother with anxious eyes. ‘It’s just—’ She broke off for a moment and then the words came in a rush. ‘If—if Dad comes back to live in England, will I have to live with him?’
The air left Rachel’s lungs on a gasp. ‘What?’
‘I said, if Dad—’
‘Yes, yes.’ Rachel had to stop her from repeating it. ‘Daisy, why would you ask a thing like that? What has your father been saying to you?’
‘It wasn’t him,’ muttered Daisy unhappily. ‘It was Grandma. When I went to help her carry the tea things in from the kitchen, she said that if Dad and Lauren didn’t get back together he might decide to stay here.’
‘I see.’ Rachel took another mouthful of her coffee to give herself time to think. She might have known Evelyn had something like this in mind. She’d been so excited when she’d opened the sitting-room door. ‘Well…’ She tried to be impartial. ‘He might stay here.’ Although she doubted it, remembering that Steve had moved to Miami to advance his career. ‘But why would you think you’d be living with him?’
‘Oh…’ Daisy blew out a breath. ‘Well, Grandma said if Dad was here I could live half the time with him and half with you.’ She sniffed. ‘But I don’t want to live with him.’
Rachel felt shocked, but not really surprised. Evelyn had never given up hope of them getting back together, and this was probably her way of trying to engineer it.
‘Look,’ she said now, ‘No one’s going to force you to live anywhere. If you want to stay here, that’s okay—but equally, if later on you want to spend time with your father, then that’s okay, too.’
Daisy stared at her. ‘Do you mean that?’
‘Of course I mean it.’ Rachel got up from her chair and went round the table to bend and give her daughter a reassuring hug. ‘Daisy, all I want is what’s best for you. Don’t you know that?’
‘Oh, Mum!’ Daisy turned and buried her face against her mother’s neck. ‘I love you.’
‘And I love you too,’ said Rachel, feeling tears prickling behind her eyes. ‘Now, drink your orange juice and I’ll make us both some breakfast.’
Daisy sighed. Then, after taking a healthy swallow of the juice, she said thoughtfully, ‘Mum, do you ever wonder why Mr Mendez didn’t come to see me before I left the clinic?’
Rachel was glad she could blame the heat of the pan for her suddenly flushed cheeks. ‘Of course not,’ she said impatiently. Just every other day! ‘Scrambled eggs all right?’
‘Well, I know why,’ declared Daisy smugly. ‘Dad told me. Well, he told all of us, actually. What with Mr Mendez coming to see Grandma and Granddad before he went back to Florida and them knowing him too.’
Rachel swallowed. ‘Really?’
‘Yes, really.’ Daisy eyed her slyly. ‘Do you want to hear why?’
No! Yes! Rachel forced herself to keep her attention fixed on the eggs. ‘If you want to tell me,’ she said, trying not to sound as agitated as she felt. ‘Pass me a couple of plates, will you?’
Daisy grumbled, but she obediently got up and took two plates out of the cupboard. ‘You’re not really interested at all, are you?’ she muttered. ‘And I thought you liked Mr Mendez.’
‘I did. I do.’ Rachel wondered how Daisy would feel if she told her how much. ‘Go on. I am interested, honestly.’ Honestly!
Daisy handed over the plates and then she said, ‘His father was taken ill. Dad said he had to rush back to New York to be with him.’
Now she had Rachel’s whole attention. ‘His father?’ she echoed faintly. ‘Are you sure about this?’
‘Mmm.’ Daisy nodded, apparently pleased that she’d surprised her mother at last. ‘And you know what else?’
Rachel hardly dared ask. ‘No.’
‘Mr Mendez was the one who arranged for us to stay at the clinic until I could come home.’
‘No!’ Rachel was stunned. ‘How do you know all this?’ she demanded, the pan of eggs forgotten.
‘Dad told—’
‘Yes, but why would your dad tell you something like that?’
Daisy shrugged. ‘We’d been talking about me having the operation, and Grandma said how good it was of Dr Gonzales to let us stay on at the clinic.’ She paused. ‘Dad laughed, and said Gonzales couldn’t afford to do a thing like tha
t. He said Mr Mendez had arranged it before he left for New York.’
‘Oh, Daisy!’ Rachel didn’t know what to say, what to think. After the way she and Joe had parted that night, she’d never have expected him to care what happened to them. But he had. And the knowledge tore aside the fragile veneer of indifference she’d worn since she’d got home.
‘Mum?’ Daisy sensed that something she’d said had upset her mother. ‘What’s the matter, Mum? It was kind of him, wasn’t it? Well, I thought it was, anyway, after the way you described that hotel.’
‘No—I mean, yes, it was kind of him. Very kind.’
‘So why are you looking so weepy? Are you going to cry?’
‘Don’t be silly!’ Rachel sucked in a breath. ‘Of course I’m not going to cry. It’s just that—Oh God!’ The smell of burnt eggs had come to her nostrils, and she turned back to find them smoking in the pan. ‘Damn!’ She sniffed hard, but this time she couldn’t prevent the tears from spilling down her cheeks. ‘These are ruined!’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ Daisy hurried forward to take the pan off the heat. ‘We can have cereal or toast. I’m not very hungry. Are you?’
‘Not very.’ Rachel tore a kitchen towel from the roll and used it to blot her eyes. ‘I’m sorry. I should have been watching what I was doing.’
‘I distracted you.’ Daisy scraped the remains of the eggs into the waste disposal and plunged the pan into the sink. Then she cast her mother another doubtful look. ‘You did like Mr Mendez, didn’t you?’ she added shrewdly. ‘That’s why you’re upset.’
‘I’m not upset,’ said Rachel, but Daisy didn’t look as if she believed her.
‘Do you think we’ll ever see him again?’ she asked. ‘I wish we could. I really liked him, and I think that he liked me.’
‘I think he liked you too,’ said Rachel, recovering her control. ‘Now, what’s it to be? Cereal or toast?’