Mendez's Mistress. Anne Mather
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.
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