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

Joe shrugged, as if that might be open for discussion, but all he said was, ‘I am also in the middle of this feud you’ve got going with Steve.’

Rachel tried to calm herself. ‘It’s not a feud.’

‘Then what is it?’ Joe’s dark brows ascended. ‘I gather the divorce wasn’t an amicable one.’

‘Did Steve tell you that?’

He had, but Joe wasn’t about to admit it. ‘It seems fairly obvious,’ he said, avoiding the question. ‘Why don’t you want Daisy to spend time with her father? Just because you don’t get on—’

‘I’ve never stopped Daisy from seeing her father,’ Rachel broke in hotly. ‘And, if he’s told you I have, he’s lying.’

Joe sucked in a breath. ‘So how come Steve hasn’t had any physical contact with Daisy since he left England?’

Rachel gasped. ‘I don’t have to explain myself to you!’

‘Humour me.’ Joe didn’t really know why he was pursuing this except that she seemed so frustrated. ‘You have to admit, it’s twelve months since he and Lauren moved to Florida.’

‘I know.’ Rachel hesitated, but the need to defend herself drove her on. ‘But—well, at Christmas, Daisy didn’t want to visit her father. Her grandparents would have been so disappointed if we hadn’t had Christmas Day with them, and school started again at the beginning of January.’

‘Okay.’ Joe shrugged. ‘I’ll accept that you wouldn’t want to send Daisy away at Christmas. But according to Steve she could have visited earlier this year.’

‘You mean at Easter?’ Rachel’s nostrils flared. ‘Didn’t he tell you? Daisy was ill at Easter. She had glandular fever and, if you know anything about the disease at all, you’ll know that it can take months to recover fully. As a matter of fact, I phoned Steve and asked if there was any way he could come and see her.’ Rachel’s nails curled into her palms when she remembered her ex-husband’s response. ‘He—he said he already had plans for the holiday. Which obviously didn’t include crossing the Atlantic.’

Joe frowned ‘He didn’t tell me that.’

Rachel snorted. ‘I wonder why.’

‘You don’t like him much, do you?’

‘I don’t like what he’s trying to do to me and Daisy,’ said Rachel flatly.

‘What is he doing?’ Joe was curious.

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘I’d still like to know.’

‘Why?’ She turned to the bags on the table and started unloading their contents. ‘So you can tell Steve what a mean, resentful cow I am when you go home?’

Joe caught his breath. ‘Hey, you’ve got some attitude there!’ he exclaimed. ‘I don’t think you’re mean or resentful. I just think you and Steve have got your wires crossed and you both need to sort yourselves out. For Daisy’s sake.’

‘Yeah, right.’

Rachel had started putting perishable items into the fridge, but now Joe couldn’t prevent himself from moving round the table and grabbing her arm. ‘Hey,’ he said, immediately aware of her soft flesh beneath his fingers. ‘I’m not your enemy.’ He released her again, unconsciously rubbing his palm down the seam of his jeans, as if that would remove the tantalising memory of her skin. ‘I’m just trying to understand what’s going on here. Fill me in. Tell me about when Steve still lived in London.’

Rachel shivered. It was the first time he’d touched her, and she was overwhelmingly aware that her response had been far from indifferent. For a moment, her senses had been assaulted by the clean, male scent of his body, his heat briefly robbing her of the will to move away. She was aware of her nipples pebbling beneath her cotton tee shirt, a melting feeling that centred somewhere low in her abdomen, turning her limbs to water.

Realising she had to get a hold of herself, she shoved the pack of cheese she was holding into the fridge and backed up against the closed door. That was better, she thought, feeling the chill cooling her spine and causing goose bumps to take the place of the beads of sweat that had feathered the back of her neck.

Then, without exactly looking at him, she said, ‘Why should it matter to you?’

Joe shook his head. Damned if he knew. He didn’t know what the hell he was getting into here, but he knew he couldn’t just walk away without at least attempting to understand what was going on.

In an effort to distract himself from the urge to capture her chin in his hand and force her to look at him, Joe propped his hips against the table behind him and folded his arms. ‘How often did Daisy see her father before he moved to the States?’ he asked, and her green eyes flickered briefly in his direction.

‘How often?’ He sensed she didn’t want to answer him and he wondered why. ‘Um—she saw him,’ she said with a lift of one shoulder, prevaricating. ‘Anyway, that’s not why you’re here, is it? I expect you’d like to confirm the arrangements for Monday. If you’ll tell me where and at what time you’d like us to meet you …’

‘My chauffeur will pick her up.’ Joe was aware that she was nervous, that she’d like to get this over with and for him to go. He frowned, and then asked curiously, ‘What’s wrong? Why are you so defensive? Is it because Steve wanted to take Daisy to Florida with him when he left England and you wouldn’t let him?’

‘What?’ Rachel was forced to look at him now, stunned at the accusation. And despite her reluctance to discuss her exhusband with a virtual stranger, she added tensely, ‘Steve never even suggested taking her with him. Did he tell you that he did?’

Joe raked long fingers over his scalp. He should never have started this. ‘That was the impression I got,’ he said at last, watching the colour drain out of her face. His free hand curled into a fist. ‘Obviously I was wrong.’

‘Yes.’ Rachel drew a choking breath and turned away, unable to look at him any longer. ‘Yes, you were,’ she continued, pressing her palms against the door of the fridge now, aware that it wasn’t helping. ‘If—if you must know, I don’t think Daisy even noticed when Steve left the country.’

There, she’d said it. Something she’d never said to anyone, not even Steve’s mother. But it was true nevertheless. Her exhusband had spent little time with Daisy when they’d been together, and after the divorce he’d always been too busy with his new wife and her friends—and, of course, his golf—to care that Daisy was growing up without a father.

Joe stifled an inward groan. He knew he’d upset her, knew he’d torn the skin off an old wound that was apparently still raw enough to bleed. And that wasn’t his nature. He didn’t hurt women; even the women he’d ended relationships with were still speaking to him. Yet, although he’d guessed he was getting into deep water when she’d avoided his question, he’d persisted in probing, in exposing her vulnerability.

His muscles tightened. He should get the hell out of here now, before he did something they would both regret. He didn’t even know why he felt such a sense of responsibility towards her, but the fact remained, he did.

Pushing away from the table, he laid an impulsive hand on her shoulder. She jumped, and he realised she was trembling. God, this was a woman who’d been married and divorced, who’d borne a child, for heaven’s sake; yet he still felt responsible for her. He couldn’t resist; his fingers tightened on the fine bones beneath her tee shirt and the urge to pull her into his arms became almost irresistible.

The air between them was fairly crackling with emotion, and for once he wished Daisy would interrupt them. Hell, this wasn’t his problem, he told himself, but that didn’t stop him from moving closer until her bottom brushed temptingly against his thigh.

Rachel moved then, jerking away from him, not understanding why her eyes were suddenly filled with tears. She’d shed all the tears she was going to shed for Steve Carlyle, she told herself fiercely. And she didn’t need Joe Mendez’s pity either. She could just imagine how this would play when he got back to Florida, and the idea that Steve and Lauren might find her stupid feelings amusing was totally humiliating.

‘Rachel,’ Joe said helplessly, ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be. I’m not.’ She pulled a tissue out of the box on the window sill and quickly blew her nose. ‘I’ll get Daisy. I expect she’s dying to know what’s going on.’

Joe groaned. ‘What is going on, Rachel?’ he demanded, and she was obliged to turn and face him.

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said, striving for a lighter tone. But when she attempted to move past him, Joe saw the betraying sparkle of tears on her lashes.

‘Hell, Rachel,’ he protested, and ignoring all the good advice he’d been giving himself, he caught her about the waist and hauled her into his arms.

CHAPTER FIVE

IT WAS meant to be a way of comforting her, of showing his support, of proving he wasn’t a selfish bastard like her exhusband appeared to be, or so he told himself. But it didn’t turn out that way. From the moment their bodies came together, from the moment her tee shirt parted from her jeans and he felt the softness of bare flesh beneath his hands, a knot of pure sensual need twisted in his belly.

She was breathing rapidly, her breasts flattened against his chest so he could feel every agitated gulp she took. Her lips were parted and the warmth of her breath was moistening the skin of his throat, spreading heat to every sensitised extremity.

‘Rachel,’ he said again, his voice thicker now, and the urge to slide his hand beneath her shirt and find the swollen peaks that were rubbing oh-so-sensuously against his shirt proved irresistible. He could see the pulse palpitating just beneath her ear, and he wondered how it would feel against his tongue.

He thought she said something then, but the faint whisper of her voice was drowned by the pounding of his own heart. With the womanly scent of her body to distract him, it was hard to think of anything but how incredible it would feel to have her naked beneath him.

He was becoming aroused. His trousers were becoming uncomfortably tight, and he guessed if he could feel it she could feel it, too. Not that that stopped him from wanting her, but it was time to grasp what little control he had left and put an end to this madness.