‘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 in.
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…
T HERE 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