‘Oh, yeah.’ Joe’s eyes widened. ‘And I’m expecting hell to freeze over any minute.’ He shook his head. ‘I could tell you I’m sorry, but that wouldn’t be true. I wanted to kiss you and I did.’ For a moment, his fingers skimmed sensually against her cheek. ‘I guess what you really want me to say is that it won’t happen again.’
Did she?
Rachel drew back automatically, but he’d already withdrawn his hand. Lounging on the seat beside her, he was like a predator at bay. Yet he didn’t scare her. She scared herself. Her skin was still prickling with the memory of his touch.
Knowing she had to say something, she chose a casual tone. ‘That would be good,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t like you to think I’d taken it too seriously.’ Although she had! ‘I’ve not exactly been celibate since my divorce.’
Joe regarded her through his lashes. Now why didn’t he believe her? he wondered. Her mouth had been hot, hotter than he’d ever imagined it would be, and her response had been all he’d wanted and more. God, if Daisy hadn’t been lurking upstairs, he didn’t know how far he might have taken it. He’d certainly been aching with the need to bury himself between her legs.
Yet, for all that, there’d been an innocence about the way she’d reacted that didn’t gel with the image she was trying to convey now. He had the feeling it was a long time since she’d felt the need to portray herself as an experienced woman. She was trying to be brash, trying to show he hadn’t scraped a nerve, but her eyes told an entirely different story. And he felt an almost overwhelming need to show her how wrong she was.
Big mistake.
‘Okay,’ he said, deciding to let it go for now, even if he was aware that he had a hard-on there was no way he was going to relieve. Thank heavens for baggy shorts, he thought wryly, adjusting his underwear. ‘So I guess you’d rather I hadn’t come to meet you, yeah?’
‘Oh … no.’ Rachel knew if she was going to carry this off she had to act naturally. ‘It was—it was very kind of you to put yourself out.’
‘I don’t look at it as putting myself out,’ said Joe firmly, though he had to ask himself why he’d been so eager to come. Steve had put him in the picture and he had been concerned for Daisy, naturally, but wanting to see Rachel again was something else. And he knew it.
Rachel turned her head and tried to concentrate on the view beyond the limousine’s windows. They were travelling along a wide road with tall trees growing on either side. On her right, beyond the belt of palms, the Atlantic reflected the overcast sky. Yet could it really be the Atlantic? It looked too placid to be the ocean.
The silence between them was pregnant with tension, and, forcing herself to relax, she said, ‘Do you live in Miami, Mr Mendez?’
‘It’s Joe,’ he amended mildly. Then, ‘It’s not my permanent address, no. But I have a condo out on Miami Beach that I use when I’m visiting the city.’
Rachel wanted to ask where his permanent address was, but it wasn’t anything to do with her. Nevertheless, remembering how impressed Daisy had been by the house she’d visited in London, she couldn’t prevent herself from saying, with unknowing wistfulness, ‘I expect you have a lot of homes.’
‘One or two,’ he conceded, not wanting to talk about himself. ‘Tell me, when did you hear about the accident?’
Rachel’s eyes widened. ‘Last night. Why?’
Joe managed to hide his astonishment. The kid’s accident had occurred three days ago. In Steve’s place, he’d have let Rachel know at once. Particularly in the circumstances. ‘I guess you must have booked your seat on the next flight?’
‘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