Anne Mather - Nights of Passion

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.

‘Um—yes,’ she said awkwardly, and the man smiled.

‘I thought so.’ He came across the room to shake her hand. ‘I’m Dr Gonzales. Daisy is my patient. And I have to say she looks much brighter now than she did when I saw her this morning.’

‘That’s ‘cos my mum’s here,’ said Daisy at once, and Dr Gonzales inclined his head.

‘Most probably,’ he agreed, consulting the chart hooked to the foot of the bed. ‘But we’ll see, shall we?’ He looked up. ‘How is your head feeling now? Do you still have some pain?’

‘No.’

Daisy’s response was just a little too pat and Dr Gonzales didn’t look as if he was deceived. ‘Maybe just a little?’ suggested Rachel, remembering the way Daisy had winced earlier, and her daughter gave her a resentful look.

‘You’d have some pain if someone had drilled your skull,’ she countered sulkily as a nurse followed the doctor into the room. ‘I’ll feel better when I get out of here.’ Then, as Rachel widened her eyes in warning, ‘Well, I will.’

‘I suggest we allow your mother to go and get a cup of coffee,’ declared Dr Gonzales smoothly as the nurse began to roll back the sleeve of Daisy’s gown. ‘She looks a little tired, don’t you think?’ Then, to Rachel, ‘Perhaps we could have a few words later this evening? I’d like to explain what has happened and how long I think Daisy needs to stay here.’

‘Of course.’ Rachel glanced at her watch. It read almost midnight, but it was still on British time. ‘I—er—I need to speak to someone. To arrange about my luggage. If you could give me half an hour?’

‘Take an hour,’ advised Dr Gonzales kindly. ‘I’ll be here all evening. You might like to have a rest. Are you staying somewhere close by?’

‘The Park Plaza hotel,’ said Rachel, and she thought he seemed a little surprised by her answer. But he didn’t demur.

‘Shall we say eight-thirty?’ he suggested. ‘In my office. The receptionist will tell you where it is.’

Daisy gazed at her despairingly. ‘You’re not leaving?’ She choked back a sob. ‘I don’t want you to go.’

‘I’ll be back.’ Rachel glanced at the doctor, and he nodded his head almost imperceptibly. She squeezed Daisy’s hand. ‘You be good, baby. I’ll be back before you’ve even noticed I’ve gone.’

There was no sign of Joe when Rachel let herself out of Daisy’s room and she guessed he must be waiting downstairs. He couldn’t have left, she assured herself as she took the lift down to the lobby. Her suitcase was still in the boot of the limousine.

But when the lift doors opened it was Luther who was standing there, waiting for her. ‘Mr Mendez had to leave,’ he explained politely. ‘He sends his apologies and has instructed me to escort you to your hotel.’

‘Oh.’ Rachel’s stomach hollowed with disappointment. Until that moment, she hadn’t realised how much she’d wanted to see Joe again. ‘Well, thank you.’ She glanced uncomfortably at the receptionist, who was watching their exchange with obvious interest. She forced a smile. ‘Shall we go?’

The limousine was visible as soon as they stepped out of the doors; its sleek black lines dominated every other vehicle on the parking lot. Luther helped her into the back, then closed the door and got behind the wheel. He moved easily for such a big man, and the smile he gave her through the rear-view mirror was reassuring.

‘The Park Plaza, right?’ he said, and Rachel nodded.

Then, before the screen between them could be raised, she shifted forward in her seat and said nervously, ‘Exactly how far away is it? Could I walk from the hotel to the hospital?’

‘Not a good idea,’ declared Luther without hesitation. ‘I guess it’s over a mile, and most people hire a car to get around.’ He paused. ‘That’s not your problem. Mr Mendez is letting you have the use of one of his cars while you’re here.’

Rachel’s lips parted. ‘But—he can’t do that.’

‘Hey, you don’t tell Mr Mendez he can’t do nothing.’ Luther grinned. ‘Leastways, not when he’s just thinking of your safety. You’re a stranger, Ms Carlyle. You don’t know the area. It can be a dangerous place, especially at night.’

Rachel shook her head. ‘I don’t know what to say.’

‘Don’t say nothing.’ Luther was dismissive. ‘You just tell Mr Mendez how you feel when you see him again.’

When you see him again.

Considering how Rachel had been feeling about Joe Mendez when she’d landed in Miami, it was amazing how reassuringthose words sounded. Did Joe intend to see her again or did Luther mean he might run into her at the hospital? Either way, the prospect was massively—and dangerously—appealing.