LITMIR.BIZ

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felt so guilty when Poppy had said yesterday that her shoes made her toes hurt. And now there was a pain in Juliet’s chest as if the oxygen was being squeezed out of her lungs. She couldn’t breathe. She felt as if a dam inside her had burst, releasing the emotions she had held back for so long.

      ‘I certainly can’t afford to pay for work on your fancy car. What will happen if my insurance company refuses to pay for the damage? I can’t take out a bank loan because I already have debts...’

      Her logical thought processes had given way to near hysteria. Ever since her parents had been killed in that horrific accident she had subconsciously been waiting for another disaster.

      ‘Could I be sent to prison? Who would look after my daughter? If I’m deemed to be a bad mother Bryan will be allowed to take Poppy to Australia and I’ll hardly ever see her.’

      It was Juliet’s worst fear and she covered her face with her hands and wept.

      ‘Calm yourself,’ Rafael Mendoza-Casillas commanded. ‘Of course you won’t go to prison,’ he said impatiently as her shoulders shook with the force of her sobs. ‘I am sure your insurance will cover the cost of the repairs to my car, and if it doesn’t I will not demand money from you.’

      Juliet’s relief at his assurance was temporary. Her other problems still seemed insurmountable and she couldn’t stop crying.

      Rafael swore. ‘We need to get out of this rain before we drown,’ he muttered as he took hold of her arm and led her towards his car. He opened the passenger door. ‘Get in and take a few minutes to bring yourself under control.’ Moments later he slid into the driver’s seat and raked a hand through his wet hair. He opened the glove box and thrust some tissues into her lap. ‘Here. Dry your tears.’

      ‘Thank you.’ She mopped her eyes and took a deep breath. In the confines of the car she was conscious of his closeness. She smelled rain, and the cologne he wore. Another indefinable scent which was uniquely male teased her senses.

      ‘I’m making your car wet,’ she mumbled when she was able to speak. She was conscious that her rain-soaked clothes were dripping onto the car’s cream leather upholstery. ‘I really am sorry about damaging your car, Mr Mendoza-Casillas.’

      ‘You can call me Rafael. My surname is a mouthful, don’t you think?’ There was an oddly bitter note in his voice. ‘What is your name?’

      ‘Juliet Lacey.’ She supposed he needed to know her name and other details for the insurance claim.

      Her eyes were drawn to his hard-boned profile and a sizzle of heat ran through her, counteracting the cold that was seeping into her skin from her wet clothes. He glanced at her and she quickly looked away from him. She could not bear to think what she must look like, wet and bedraggled, with her face blotchy and her eyes red-rimmed from crying.

      ‘I apologise for losing my temper. I did not mean to frighten or upset you,’ he said curtly. ‘You said that you have a child?’

      ‘Yes, a three-year-old daughter.’

      ‘Dios, you can only be—what?—nineteen?—and you have a three-year-old?’ He sounded faintly appalled. ‘I assume that as you are not wearing a wedding ring you’re not married.’

      ‘I’m twenty-four,’ she corrected him stiffly, ‘and, no, I’m not married. Poppy’s father didn’t want anything to do with either of us when she was born.’

      ‘Who is this Bryan you mentioned?’

      ‘He’s Poppy’s father. He has now decided that he wants custody of her. Under Australian law both parents are responsible for their child, even if they have never married or been a couple. Bryan can afford the best lawyers and if he wins the court case he intends to take Poppy to live in Australia with him.’

      More tears filled Juliet’s eyes and she scrubbed them away with a tissue.

      ‘It’s so unfair,’ she blurted out. ‘Bryan saw Poppy once when she was a baby. He told me he might have been more interested if she’d been a boy. But it’s my word against his that he rejected his daughter. His lawyers are twisting everything to make it seem as though I refused to allow him to see his child. But I only brought Poppy back to England because Bryan insisted he wanted nothing to do with her.’

      Juliet had no idea why she was confiding in Rafael when she didn’t know him, and she was sure he wouldn’t be interested in her problems. But there was something strangely reassuring about his size and obvious strength, the air of power that surrounded him. Words had tumbled from her lips before she could stop them.

      ‘I’ve heard through my cousin, who lives in Sydney, that Bryan is dating the daughter of a billionaire and he wants to marry her. Apparently his girlfriend can’t have children of her own because of a medical condition, but she desperately wants a child. My guess is that Bryan hopes to persuade his heiress to marry him if he can present her with a cute little daughter.’

      Juliet bit her lip. ‘Eighteen months ago Poppy spent a few weeks in temporary foster care when I had to go into hospital. She was very happy staying with the lovely family who looked after her. But somehow Bryan has found out that Poppy was fostered and he’s using it as proof that I can’t give her a secure upbringing and she’ll be better off living with him.’

      ‘Couldn’t someone in your family have looked after your daughter while you were in hospital?’

      The anger had gone from Rafael’s voice and the sexy huskiness of his accent sent a little tremor through Juliet.

      ‘My parents are dead and my only other relatives live in Australia. My aunt and uncle were kind to me when I stayed with them after my parents died, but they have busy lives and I try to manage on my own.’

      ‘Why are you short of money?’ Rafael turned his head towards her and Juliet felt his gaze sweep over her cap and apron. ‘I take it that you have a job? What do the initials LTG stand for?’

      ‘Lunch To Go is my sandwich business, which I co-own with my business partner. We’ve only been running for a year and our profit margins have been low while we have been getting established.’ She gave another sniff and crumpled the soggy tissue in her hand. ‘Things are finally looking up. But today I was called in by your HR manager and told that the contract we have to supply sandwiches to the Casillas Group’s staff will finish at the end of the week because a new staff canteen is to open.’

      Rafael nodded. ‘When I established the London headquarters of the company it was always my plan to open a restaurant and a gym in the basement of the building for staff to use in their lunch break. The construction work took longer than anticipated and I asked HR to make a temporary alternative arrangement for staff to be able to buy their lunch from an outside source but still be subsidised by the company.’

      ‘I didn’t know about the staff restaurant,’ Juliet said dully.

      She’d never been down to the basement level—although she had overheard a couple of secretaries talking about the new staff gym. Her contract with the Casillas Group only required her to be given a week’s notice.

      ‘Will losing the contract have an impact on your business?’

      ‘It will halve our profits,’ she admitted heavily. ‘I thought we could advertise for new customers at other offices—although a number of other food delivery companies have started up in this area, and the competition is high. And then I spoke to my business partner after my meeting and Mel told me she’s going to sell the bakery shop where we’re based. Her decision is for personal reasons—she and her husband want to move out of London. Mel owns the shop, and I can’t afford to buy it or rent a new premises.’

      ‘If your business closes what will you do?’

      She shrugged. ‘I’ll have to look for another job, but I don’t have any qualifications, or training in a career, and it will be almost impossible to earn enough to cover childcare for Poppy.’

      Juliet

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