Mendoza's Secret Fortune Page 6

  “How long does it take you to unload a simple shipment?” Orlando wanted to know before he suddenly stopped dead in his tracks, taking in the scenario and what he belatedly realized were the intense vibrations throbbing all around him.

  So near and yet so far, Rachel thought, deeply disappointed and struggling not to show it to either of the men within the crammed room.

  Matteo’s spirits came crashing down, almost oppressing him. “Just finishing up with the last of it, Dad,” he responded, doing his best not to snap at his father.

  Damn it, Dad, talk about having awful timing, Matteo thought. He caught himself at the last minute, keeping the words from escaping his mouth.

  His insides felt as if they were all revved up and humming with absolutely no release in sight.

  Matteo thought of following Rachel back to her cubicle to explore further the intense magnetism he felt palpitating between them. If it was any stronger, he was convinced it would have been a visible, solid entity.

  His sense of disappointment in the way things had turned out was beyond measure.

  She had to admit that she was very surprised a plume of smoke wasn’t trailing in her wake. The way Matteo looked at her—never mind that their bodies had brushed against one another—he’d certainly made her feel as if she was not just hot, but that an out-of-control five-alarm fire was raging within her.

  And that Matteo was the additional fuel.

  Glancing in the glass door as she approached her office, she saw Matteo’s reflection. He was following her. And judging by his expression, he was rather determined to have his way.

  Oh, please, let it be what I think it might be.

  She sent up a silent prayer to the saint of hopeless cases, St. Jude, bartering then and there and promising to send a sizable donation to a charity that bore his name if only her dream scenario became a reality.

  It didn’t even have to be a long kiss, she bargained. It was possible to contain and lock passion into a small container. Doing so didn’t diminish its strength by any means.

  She was debating just thrusting herself in Matteo’s path so that he had no choice but to grab her to move her out of the way. She wanted to give him an excuse to make contact again. If they remained alone, who knew where this might go?

  But before anything promising could happen, her cell phone rang.

  The sound, usually a pleasant one to her, was simply jarring this time around, causing her more than a degree of discomfort.

  Her intuition told her that the ringing wasn’t about to go away. Rachel had a feeling that whoever was on the other end of the call would just keep calling until they got her on the phone, rather than leaving a message on her voice mail. Served her right for turning her phone on. She should have left it off.

  “Hello, this is Rachel.” The words came to her tongue automatically. She didn’t even stop to think about them before speaking.

  And then she stiffened as she recognized the voice on the other end. Of all the phone calls for her to get while standing less than three feet away from the object of her budding affection, this was the last one she would have expected—or wanted.

  “So your cell phone does work,” the male voice said, amused. “You are a very hard lady to reach.” The chuckle was deep and throaty, fading into the atmosphere before the man continued. “This is Cisco Mendoza.”

  “Yes, I realize that,” Rachel acknowledged, her voice still sounding a bit stiff.

  Matteo caught her intonation and instantly looked at her in utter amazement. A gut feeling told him that she was taking a call from Cisco. The same gut feeling that had urged him to kiss her. That he’d failed to follow the first instinct would be something he feared he was going to regret for the rest of his life. At least.

  Speaking again, Cisco’s voice carried, despite the fact that she had the cell closer to her and it wasn’t on Speaker.

  “I had a really great time with you last night,” Cisco was saying to her. “I was wondering if you’d like to do it again.”

  “Do it again?” she echoed. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Matteo suddenly look her way. Her last words had obviously caught his attention.

  Listening.

  “Yes. I was hoping that you would be able to go out with me again tonight,” Cisco told her. “See if we can recapture that feeling we had last night.”

  “Um, I’m not sure that I can make it,” Rachel said, uncharacteristically stumbling over her own tongue.

  She was not usually this socially awkward. After all, Cisco was a perfectly nice person who had been a complete gentleman last night. But he didn’t make her toes curl or her blood rush. She didn’t want to encourage Cisco since there had been no sparks, especially not the kind that she had just felt with Matteo.

  But she didn’t like being cruel, either. There had to be a painless way to ease out of this situation without hurting the man’s ego.

  Watching Rachel, Matteo saw the distressed, uncomfortable look on her face. Filling in the blanks and going on what little information he had picked up about her, he realized that Rachel was trying to find a way out of starting a relationship with Cisco without bruising his brother’s feelings.

  Another reason to really like the woman, he thought.

  His brother, Matteo knew, had a skin as thick as a rhino. He doubted there was anything anyone could say to Cisco that would even mildly upset him.

  And if, perchance, he was wrong, and getting turned down by Rachel would crush his brother’s cavalier spirit, well, those were just the hazards of love and war. These things happened.

  He surprised her by putting his hand over hers on the cell. When she looked at him quizzically, he mouthed, May I?

  Unable to think of a reason why she wouldn’t want him to talk to his brother, she nodded and released the cell phone to him. Matteo smiled at her before addressing the person he assumed was on the other end.

  “Cisco?”

  There was a bewildered pause before Cisco finally responded. He sounded a bit confused when he did. “Is that you, Matteo?”

  “Yes, it’s me. Rachel can’t see you tonight because she’s already going out with someone.”

  “Who?” Cisco challenged him, surprised.

  “Me,” Matteo told him.

  Rachel’s mouth dropped open. Had there been a feather available in the immediate area at that very moment, it could have knocked her over.

  Easily.

  Chapter Six

  The silence on the other end of the line stretched out to almost half a minute. Matteo was beginning to think that Cisco had either hung up on him or lost the connection.

  He was about to hand the cell back to Rachel when he heard his brother say, “I’m impressed, little brother. You’ve gotten quicker.”

  Pulling the phone closer again, Matteo responded, “Yeah, well, sometimes you just have to be.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the way Rachel was looking at him. She seemed to be completely stunned. He supposed that announcing to his brother that she was going out with him might have rattled her a little.

  Had he scared her off by his assertive behavior? God, he hoped not. This was what he got for acting impulsively, like Cisco.

  “You want to talk to Rachel again?” he asked his brother.

  “Sure, why not?” Cisco said gamely. As far as Matteo could tell, Cisco sounded amused. What he couldn’t fathom was why.

  Matteo held out the cell phone to her. “Here,” he murmured. “He wants to talk to you again.”

  Rachel took her phone back, not really knowing what to make of the entire exchange she’d just heard. She definitely wanted to go out with Matteo instead of Cisco, but she didn’t like the idea that she—and any input that she might have had on the subject—had been completely usurped in thi
s whole process. Matteo hadn’t even asked her to go out. He just seemed to have assumed that she would agree.

  That wasn’t like him.

  Not like him? What are you, lifelong friends? You just met him. How much do you really know about the man? a small voice in her head asked.

  The answer to that was a painful “not much.” She was going strictly on gut instincts alone. There were times, she knew, when that wasn’t nearly enough. This could be one of those times.

  “Hello,” Rachel said uncertainly as she brought the cell phone closer to her ear.

  “Just wanted to wish you luck with my little brother tonight,” Cisco told her cheerfully. “Maybe we can go out some other time.” He sounded rather confident that they would.

  She, however, was of a different opinion. “Maybe,” she replied without any indication of how she really felt about that.

  “I’ll hold you to that.” He laughed, then said, “‘Bye,” and ended the call.

  Belatedly, Rachel followed suit.

  The second she tucked her phone away in her pocket, Matteo started talking. He sounded somewhat uncomfortable. “Listen, I’m sorry about that.” He nodded toward the pocket that contained her cell phone.

  “Sorry?” Rachel echoed. She hadn’t the slightest idea what Matteo was actually referring to or apologizing for. Was he sorry about taking the phone from her, or was he apologizing for jumping the gun and saying they were going out?

  “I know how pushy Cisco can be, and I just wanted to help you out if, for some reason, you didn’t want to go out with him.” He had to admit that the sound of his brother’s voice had been like waving the proverbial red flag in front of a bull. It just set him off, and he had acted rashly. “You don’t have to go out with me, either, if you don’t want to.”

  Now she really felt confused. Exactly what was he saying?

  “So, you’re not asking me out?” She wanted to pin this Mendoza down. “That wasn’t just an oversight on your part? That little step you forgot to take?”

  It was his turn to be confused. “What step?” Matteo asked.

  “The step where you actually ask me out,” she responded.

  Damn, but she had him all tied up in knots. Just looking at her was scrambling his brain, Matteo thought. He couldn’t think straight. He knew he should just let this go and back away, but his need to know got the best of him.

  “If I did ask you out,” he said slowly, watching her carefully, “what would you say?”

  “I don’t know,” Rachel answered. Granted, it was a lie, because she knew exactly what her answer would have been, but she felt he deserved to twist a little in the wind over this. “I never know how I’ll react to something until it happens. I guess you’ll actually have to ask me out to find out my answer,” she informed Matteo glibly.

  Talk about putting himself out there, he thought. “You’re kidding.”

  A Mona Lisa smile gently curved her mouth. She was not about to back down. “No, I’m not.”

  “Okay.” Taking a moment, Matteo centered himself, focusing on his words and the woman he was saying them to. He asked, “Rachel Robinson, would you do me the honor of allowing me to have the pleasure of your company this evening?”

  He sounded so formal. The only thing that was missing was the clank of armor as he took her hand in his just before he asked her out.

  Tickled, Rachel smiled broadly at him. These Mendoza men were a complicated lot, she couldn’t help thinking. And then she quickly set his mind at ease. “I thought you’d never ask!”

  “Just so I’m sure, is that a yes?”

  “Well, it’s not a no,” she deadpanned, then laughed as she confirmed, “Yes, that’s a yes.”

  Matteo’s face lit up. “Great,” he said enthusiastically. “What time do you get off from here?”

  “Five,” she answered. She knew that once the Foundation was open, her hours might be more structured. But for now, it was a nine-to-five job.

  Matteo nodded, as if that was what he’d expected to hear. “Why don’t you give me your address and I’ll pick you up at six? Unless that’s not enough time to get ready,” he quickly interjected.

  Now, that was certainly thoughtful, she thought, impressed. “That’s enough time even if I was going to rebuild myself from top to bottom,” she assured him. Rattling off her address to him, she then asked, “What should I wear?”

  “Clothes would be good, but it’s up to you.” Okay, maybe he was channeling too much of his brother now, Matteo lectured himself silently.

  He noticed with relief that Rachel appeared to be amused more than anything else.

  “I’ve got that part down already. What kind of clothes?” she wanted to know. His brother had taken her to a fancy, romantic restaurant in Vicker’s Corners, but she had a feeling that unless Matteo was planning to compete with his brother on every level, he wasn’t the structured, romantic-restaurant type.

  “Casual,” Matteo replied. Then, in case that wasn’t enough information, he specified, “Boots-and-jeans casual.”

  Since those were the clothes she tended to favor, Rachel was more than happy to go along with his suggestion.

  “Boots and jeans it is.”

  * * *

  It was amazing how many different tops a person could try on and discard within the space of fifty-three minutes, Rachel thought, looking at the disarrayed piles on her bed. She’d had no problem with the bottom half of her outfit. Picking out which jeans she was wearing was a snap—the boot-cut ones that hugged her curves.

  And she didn’t own a large selection of boots—there were only two pairs on the floor of her closet.

  But tops, well, that was another story. She had a couple dozen of those—if not more—and every one had something wrong with it.

  Or so it seemed when she pulled each one out of her closet and critically looked it over.

  Running out of time, Rachel knew she finally had to make her choice, picking the last top she’d pulled on, mainly by default. It was either that one or nothing—and Matteo was at her door right now, ringing the doorbell.

  Her heart seemed to be doing a little Irish jig in her chest. Nonetheless, she gave herself a quick once-over in the mirror, murmured, “Here goes nothing,” and hurried to open the door.

  Matteo had been preparing his opening lines all the way from his father’s house to her apartment. He changed a word here, substituted a word there.

  When Rachel opened her door to admit him, he promptly forgot every single one of those words. Looking at her had knocked every one of them out of his head like so many dried grains of rice raining down on a harsh terrain. All he could say was “Wow.”

  As it turned out, he couldn’t have come up with a better word to use. Hearing the single word, rendered as an assessment, brought a huge smile to her lips.

  He liked the way her eyes lit up when she smiled. “Thank you. That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

  Matteo caught himself thinking of his brother. Cisco seemed to possess a silver tongue, charming his way into—as well as out of—many a situation. He was fairly certain Cisco had laid it on thick last night.

  “I doubt that,” he responded, taking a single step just inside her apartment.

  “Where are we going?” she wanted to know, grabbing her jacket and her purse before heading back to him and out the door.

  “How do you feel about horseback riding?” Matteo asked her, paying close attention to the expression on her face more than the words that would be coming out of her mouth. He didn’t want her just going along with something because he suggested it. He wanted her to be enthusiastic about the evening.

  Taking out her key, Rachel locked her door. His question brought visions of home instantly to her mind. Among the other lessons her parents had paid for, she had
taken horseback riding. She’d become very proficient at it, but then, it was easy being good at something she enjoyed.

  Turning toward Matteo, she told him, “I love horseback riding.”

  He saw that she meant it. “Good, because we’re going on a trail ride.”

  “Sounds great,” she responded with enthusiasm.

  What Matteo was proposing was miles away from the kind of date she’d had with Cisco. That evening had been formal, yet flashy. She had no doubt that it cost a pretty penny to dine at that restaurant. But maybe because of how she’d grown up and what she had found out about her father five years ago, flashy made no impression on her whatsoever—except perhaps in a negative way.

  So she was relieved and delighted when Matteo brought his car to a stop near a stable and told her that he’d reserved a couple of stallions for them. The horses were both saddled and ready to go.

  One had what appeared to be a large wicker basket attached to the saddle horn.

  “What’s that?” she asked, nodding at the basket.

  “That,” he told her, “is a surprise. You need any help getting on your horse?” he asked before mounting his.

  “Not on your life.” She laughed.

  As he watched, she mounted her horse in one fluid, graceful movement.

  It was like watching poetry in motion, he thought. The line had never meant anything to him before now.

  Getting on his horse, Matteo indicated the direction they were about to take. Twilight was still a little more than a hint away.

  “Let’s go,” he told her.

  “Does it have anything to do with food?” she teased him, nodding at the basket.

  It took him a second to realize what she was referring to. He was far too busy just drinking her in to have room in his thoughts for anything else.

  “It might,” he finally said. “Play your cards right and you could find out.”

  In the waning light, she seemed to glow. If he hadn’t been half-taken with her already, he would have been now.

  Rachel laughed again, the sound wrapping itself around him like a warm embrace. “You’re on.”