Nights of Passion: Mendez's Mistress / Bedded for the Italian's Pleasure / The Pregnancy Affair. Anne Mather

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      ‘Yes, I did.’

      Rachel felt troubled now. Joe’s expression wasn’t always readable, but there was something in his face that made her add urgently, ‘Why do you ask?’

      ‘No reason.’

      Joe’s eyes darkened, lingering on her face with a warmth and intensity that brought an embarrassing wave of colour into her cheeks. Looking at him now, she could hardly believe how intimate they’d once been. And while he was probably used to doing whatever the hell he liked, she most definitely wasn’t.

      Only he mustn’t know that.

      Dragging her eyes away from his lean, disturbing face, she forced herself to remember why she was here: Daisy. Her daughter should be her prime concern, and she doubted she’d be too impressed to learn that her mother was dwelling on the possible actions of a man she’d convinced herself she didn’t even like. Although with his hip only inches from hers, and the remembered awareness of how he’d made her feel when he’d thrust his tongue into her mouth, those sentiments seemed decidedly suspect.

      She felt so hot suddenly, a bead of sweat trickling down between her breasts. Which was ridiculous, considering the coolness of the car. To distract herself, she tried to find some interest in the buildings that lined the other side of the wide boulevard: neo-classical styles fighting for space between modern high-rises, the occasional square of parkland a welcome splash of greenery.

      ‘Um, Palm Cove,’ she murmured, aware that Joe was still watching her. ‘Is it much farther?’

      ‘Not far.’ Joe shifted forward in his seat and her heart leapt into her throat. But although his thigh briefly brushed hers, all he did was open a small chilled cabinet set beneath the polished console opposite. Inside was a selection of sodas and mixers, and gesturing, he said, ‘Are you thirsty?’

      Rachel’s mouth was dry, but she doubted a drink would cure it. Still, the sight of the frosted bottles was appealing, and she said a little breathlessly, ‘Do you have mineral water?’

      ‘Water?’ Joe studied the contents of the cabinet. ‘Yeah, sure. There you go.’ He handed her a bottle. ‘You need a glass?’

      ‘Oh—no.’ Rachel unscrewed the cap with some difficulty. Her fingers were hot and slippery, but thankfully he didn’t offer to do it for her. ‘This is fine.’

      ‘Good.’ Joe closed the cabinet again and lounged back in his seat. Then, his eyes on the slender column of her throat visible above the open neck of her cotton shirt, he added, ‘You do know that’s where Steve and Lauren live? Palm Cove, I mean.’

      Rachel almost choked on the water. ‘No,’ she gasped, when she was able. ‘No, I didn’t.’ The last address she’d been given was the apartment—or condo—they’d occupied in Miami itself.

      ‘Oh, yeah.’ Joe wondered what else Steve hadn’t told her. ‘They share the Johansen mansion with Lauren’s old man. His wife died a couple of years ago, and I guess he got tired of rattling round that old place on his own.’

      Rachel’s tongue circled her lips. ‘So Daisy’s been staying there, too?’

      Joe frowned. ‘That bothers you?’

      ‘Not exactly.’ Rachel made a helpless gesture. ‘I just wish I’d known, that’s all.’

      Joe hesitated. ‘But you know about the accident, right?’

      ‘Well, I know she fell off the Johansens’ yacht and hit her head,’ replied Rachel at once. ‘And that she apparently wasn’t wearing a life jacket. I’ll certainly take that up with her father, if I get the chance.’ She paused. ‘I don’t suppose you have any idea when she’ll be allowed to leave the hospital? I mean, if she’s been there three days already …’

      Joe stifled an oath. This was what he’d been afraid of. Evidently, his address wasn’t the only thing Steve had kept from his ex-wife, and now Joe was faced with the unpleasant task of having to tell her himself or allowing her to walk into her daughter’s room, totally blind to the circumstances of her condition.

      He’d been silent too long and Rachel wasn’t a fool. She’d noticed his expression and now she demanded, ‘Why are you looking so grim?’ She swallowed. ‘What do you know that I don’t?’

      Joe blew out a breath. Steve was going to hear about this, he thought savagely. Right now, he felt like pushing the other man’s teeth down his throat. It would have given him an immense amount of satisfaction, not to mention relieving a little of his own frustration.

      Obviously Rachel had come here unaware of what had happened after Daisy had been helicoptered to the hospital in Palm Cove. She had no idea that Daisy’s injuries had been considered too serious to be dealt with by the Emergency Room doctors and that Daisy had been transferred to a specialist neurological unit attached to the far more expensive facility patronised by the Johansens.

      ‘Look,’ he said carefully, ‘First off, Daisy’s going to be fine.’

      ‘Why doesn’t that reassure me?’

      ‘But she won’t be leaving hospital for a few days yet.’

      ‘Why not?’ Rachel felt the water she’d just swallowed churning around in her stomach. My God, what had really happened? What had they kept from her? She should have guessed it had been something more serious than a simple blow to the head. ‘Please,’ she said, unthinkingly putting a hand on his knee. ‘You’ve got to tell me.’

      Despising the inappropriate response his body was having to those soft, damp fingers clinging to his leg, Joe gently but firmly removed them. But he kept her hand between both of his as he said, ‘She had to have an operation—’

      ‘An operation!’

      Rachel looked horrified and he couldn’t blame her. He knew a momentary urge to comfort her, to pull her into his arms and hold her close, but he determinedly suppressed it. He knew where that could lead.

      ‘It was just a small operation,’ he said, smoothing her knuckles with his thumb. ‘There was some pressure and it had to be relieved. But as I say, she’s making great progress.’

      Rachel was trembling. He could feel it. The hand he was holding was shaking uncontrollably and, abandoning any hope of remaining objective, Joe slipped his hand around her neck and pulled her towards him.

      She didn’t resist, probably because she was too shocked to notice what was happening. She pressed her hot face into the hollow of his throat and, seconds later, he felt her tears soaking the front of his shirt.

      ‘God, Rachel,’ he muttered, his hands tightening automatically, and then Luther turned and saw them.

      The chauffeur knew better than to show any emotion, but Joe realised that during the upheaval of the last few minutes they had reached their destination. The rather tawdry blue-painted facade of the Park Plaza hotel was visible just across the intersection and Luther was waiting for further instructions.

      With some reluctance, Joe withdrew his arms and, allowing her to rest against the supple upholstery, he lowered the screen an inch or two to speak to the other man. ‘Let’s go straight to the hospital, Luther,’ he said briskly, and the СКАЧАТЬ