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

‘Not far.’ Joe had to suppress the urge to take her in his arms again. He couldn’t forget that, if he hadn’t gone to meet her at the airport, she’d still be totally in the dark. He saw the white walls of the Steinberg Clinic ahead of them and moved forward again to speak to the chauffeur. ‘Pull under the portico, will you, Luther? Then, after you’ve dropped us off, find somewhere to park, okay?’

‘Yes, sir.’

Despite the fact that Rachel had the car door open before either Luther or his employer could forestall her, the two men both came to offer their assistance. ‘I can manage, thanks,’ she insisted tensely, but this time Joe didn’t hesitate before gripping her wrist.

‘I’m coming with you,’ he said, and they walked through the automatic glass doors into the clinic together. ‘Humour me. I’m familiar with the form here. You’re not.’

Although Rachel wanted to object, it turned out she was grateful for his presence after all. There was an armed security guard just inside the doors who might well have questioned her identity, and a glamorous receptionist manning the desk who was unlike any hospital receptionist she had ever seen before.

Happily they both recognised Joe, and after some embarrassing affectation on behalf of the receptionist, they were instantly allowed to enter the lift, which was controlled by yet another security guard.

Rachel looked up at Joe as the lift ascended, aware she’d been something less than appreciative of his help. ‘Thanks,’ she said, touching his arm with a tentative finger. ‘I guess I owe you one.’

A knot twisted in Joe’s belly, but he managed to keep his tone light as he said, ‘I’ll let you know when I want to collect, shall I? ‘And for the first time since he’d told her about Daisy’s operation a small smile tilted the corners of her far too delectable mouth.

The lift stopped at the second floor and they stepped out onto a beige-carpeted landing. A nurse’s station was situated opposite, and there were swing doors giving access to the private rooms at either side of the hallway.

There were two nurses on duty when they approached, and, recognising Joe, one of them—a curvaceous redhead whose uniform bodice was open to reveal a very impressive cleavage—came to greet them. ‘Have you come to see Daisy again, Mr Mendez? I hope she realises what a very lucky girl she is.’

Her eyes had flickered over his companion as she spoke, and Rachel guessed she was wondering what he was doing with someone like her. Ironically, the nurse herself was much more his type, and she’d probably decided that they’d merely shared a lift together.

‘Actually, I’ve brought her a very special visitor,’ remarked Joe drily. ‘This is Daisy’s mother. From England. Is it okay if we go straight in?’

‘Oh!’ To say the nurse was startled would have been a vast understatement. ‘Oh, yes. Yes, go ahead. Dr Gonzales is on his way to see her, but I don’t suppose he’ll object to her mother visiting her.’

‘Good.’

Joe took hold of Rachel’s arm just above her elbow and guided her towards the swing doors to the right of the nurses’ station. Pushing open one of the doors with his free hand, he allowed her to precede him into a discreetly lit corridor with maybe half a dozen rooms situated along its wide expanse.

Rachel noticed that all the patients’ rooms seemed to be on one side of the corridor, with double doors to emergency facilities and operating theatres located opposite. It was very luxurious, very quiet, and Rachel couldn’t help a twinge of anxiety that Daisy had had to be treated at such a place.

‘This is Daisy’s room,’ murmured Joe, indicating the third door down. ‘I won’t come in with you. You’ll appreciate a few minutes on your own.’ He paused and then, with an unexpected thickening of his tone, he added, ‘Don’t take any notice of the way she looks. She’s going to be fine, I promise.’

Rachel opened her mouth to ask what he meant. But he was already striding back towards the swing doors, and the atmosphere of the place didn’t encourage raised voices. Instead, with a deep breath, she put her hand on the handle of the door and pressed down.

Daisy looked lost in the huge hospital bed, her face, what Rachel could see of it, almost as white as the pillows behind her. Rachel had been expecting bruising; what she hadn’t expected was the bandage that circled Daisy’s forehead, or the swelling around her eye that gave her face a lopsided appearance.

Her heart leapt into her throat and she felt the treacherous sting of tears threatening to betray her again. But she remembered what Joe had said, and the advice implicit in his words, and controlled herself. She mustn’t let Daisy see how upset her appearance had made her, and stepping into the room, she said, ‘Now what have you been doing with yourself?’ in a soft but teasing tone.

Daisy had been lying on her side, staring out of the windows, which Rachel now saw overlooked the gardens at the back of the clinic. Lawns, flowerbeds and pleasant tree-shaded walkways provided a recreational area for patients who were well enough to go outside, and there were still one or two people enjoying the somewhat watery sunshine that had broken through the clouds.

Daisy turned her head at the sound of her mother’s voice, and if Rachel had had any doubts about coming, they dissolved at that moment. Daisy’s face crumpled, and she held out a trembling hand towards her mother. Rachel didn’t hesitate before hurrying across the room to take it, then cupped her daughter’s face with fingers that were predictably unsteady.

‘Oh, Daisy,’ she said, pressing her lips together briefly before bending to kiss the girl’s bruised cheek. ‘Baby, I’m so glad to see you.’

‘Me too,’ sniffed Daisy, clinging to Rachel’s fingers. ‘Oh, Mum, it’s been so awful! They had to drill a hole in my head and they had to shave off half my hair.’

‘I know, I know, darling.’ Rachel struggled to hide her anxiety. ‘But it sounds as if you’ve had the best treatment possible, and that’s the important thing.’

‘I don’t like hospitals,’ said Daisy at once, her eyes brimming with tears. ‘I don’t like being here. I want to go home.’

‘And you will,’ Rachel assured her comfortingly. ‘As soon as you’re feeling better.’

‘I feel better now!’

‘Oh, Daisy.’ Rachel took a steadying breath. ‘As soon as the doctor says you’re fit to leave, you can. I’m sure your father and—and Lauren have been worried sick about you.’

Daisy’s chin trembled. ‘I haven’t seen Lauren,’ she said tearfully. ‘Dad says she doesn’t like hospitals. Or—or sick people.’

Rachel bit her tongue against the retort that sprang to her lips and, as if realising how inflammatory her words had been, Daisy added hastily, ‘Dad said it’s because her mother died in hospital. She had some kind of disease that attacks your liver. Cirius, or something.’

Cirrhosis, thought Rachel flatly, resisting the urge to speculate about whether Mrs Johansen had been rather more than a social drinker, and said, ‘That’s a shame. She can’t have been very old when she died.’

‘She wasn’t.’ Daisy was distracted from her own problems by relating the story. ‘Mr Johansen misses her a lot.’

‘I bet.’ Rachel hesitated. ‘You’ve been staying with him, haven’t you?’

‘Mmm.’ Daisy attempted a nod, but it evidently pained her and she winced. ‘Daddy and Lauren live with him,’ she went on when she’d recovered. ‘He’s nice. You’ll like him.’

‘I doubt if I’ll even meet him,’ declared Rachel ruefully. ‘Once you’re out of hospital, you’ll continue with your holiday and I’ll go home.’

‘No!’ As Rachel would have moved to the chair beside the bed, Daisy grasped her arm. ‘You can’t leave,’ she protested. ‘I don’t want you to.’

‘Oh, Daisy.’ Rachel could see the girl was getting distressed and she tried to reassure her. ‘I can’t stay here. I have to get back, you know that. Besides, what would your father say?’

‘I don’t care what he says,’ muttered Daisy in a choked voice. ‘He doesn’t care about me. He only cares about Lauren.’

‘Now, Daisy—’

‘It’s true!’ she cried. ‘He only wants me here because the company expects their executives to be family men, and he and Lauren can’t have any children.’

‘Daisy!’ Rachel stared at her. ‘You don’t know that.’

‘I do too.’ Daisy groped for a tissue from the box on the bedside cabinet and Rachel put one into her hand. ‘I heard them talking one night after I was supposed to be in bed.’

‘Daisy!’ Rachel was torn between her desire to know what her daughter had heard and the equally strong conviction that she shouldn’t be listening to gossip. ‘I don’t think this is anything to do with me.’

‘But it is!’ Daisy was determined to make her point. ‘You know you’ve always wondered why Dad suddenly started showing an interest in me.’

Rachel’s jaw dropped. ‘I didn’t say that.’

‘You didn’t have to. I’m not stupid, Mum. I’m, like, thirteen, not three.’

Rachel sighed. ‘All the same—’

‘Ah, it’s Mrs Carlyle, I believe.’

The voice came from behind her and Rachel sprang up from the bed as an elderly man in a white coat and wearing half spectacles came briskly into the room. She hoped he hadn’t been listening to their conversation. If so, he must have a very poor opinion of her.