Hot Surrender Read online

  She got a dry look in response. 'I wasn't! The state of the house was the last thing on my mind. I'm far more anxious about my film. Sancha, listen, you don't want me to be out of work, do you? If I don't turn up again I'll lose my job, surely you can see that?'

  'Oh, for goodness' sake—have you forgotten that you nearly killed yourself yesterday? Connel told me your car was a total write-off.'

  'But I'm not! I just have a few scratches…'

  'You can't see yourself; you look terrible! Horrible blue bruises on your arms and face, not to mention the cuts! And shock takes days to wear off!'

  'Oh, thanks, you're such a comfort!'

  'I'm not allowing you to leave that bed. Don't think you'll get round me, so drink your coffee and eat your biscuit.'

  'I' never eat biscuits; they make you fat' Zoe sipped her coffee sulkily. 'And I prefer my coffee black! All this milk in it just builds up the calories.'

  'I'm building up your immune system—and eat that biscuit; you need the blood sugar! I made them myself, just for you. They're full of energy-giving ingredients.'

  'Full of fat and sugar, you mean.' Gloomily surveying the biscuit, Zoe knew she was going to have to eat it to please her sister or Sancha would put on that hurt look she did so well.

  'Mark says men prefer women to be cuddly, anyway,' Sancha said, with what Zoe felt was smug complacency.

  'Sancha, men prefer their own women to be cuddly and a little plump because they don't want any other man taking a second look! If they could they'd put then-wives into a harem, no doubt. But I don't diet to attract men. I diet to stay fit and active and have lots of energy. My job depends on it.'

  'Your job depends on your brains, which you aren't using at the moment! Eat your nice biscuit!'

  Did Sancha think she was three? No wonder Flora threw things when her mother always talked to her in that tone of voice.

  'Sancha, listen…'

  'Not until you've eaten your biscuit!'

  'Tyrant' Sighing, Zoe took a bite. Crisp and light and quite delicious; she finished it in three bites. 'You're a great cook,' she told Sancha, who smiled in satisfaction. 'But take the rest of them home to the kids. Don't expect me to eat another single biscuit.'

  'All right, but only if you tell me about you and Connel!'

  'I already said—nothing to tell!' Zoe finished her coffee. 'You tell me something—how does Mark get on with him? And the truth, now!'

  'Mark likes him. He says he's a great guy, straightforward, easy to talk to, prepared to listen if a problem comes up. The men like Connel too, even though he's not a push-over when it comes to one of them making trouble.' Sancha's eyes were bright and watchful, gleaming with curiosity. 'And he left this place like a new pin. He'd not only washed up after breakfast, he had tidied the kitchen, and made the bed he's using.'

  Zoe's heart distinctly tumbled inside her chest, like a fish leaping up in water. Why had her sister used the present tense? Connel had gone. Hadn't he?

  'What do you mean—using? Used, you mean, just for last night. He's not one of the fixtures and fittings.'

  Sancha gazed at her intently, a little smile curling her mouth. 'But he's coming back tonight.'

  'No, he is not!' Agitated, Zoe sat up against her pillows. 'What made you think he was?'

  'Why, he did!' Sancha became serious. 'Zoe, I can't stay on here all night. I have to get back to take care of the boys and Mark, but you must have someone here, just in case a problem comes up during the night. After a crash like that all sorts of reaction can set in without warning. Shock can be very dangerous. So when Connel said he would do the night shift I was grateful. I didn't think you'd object.'

  'You didn't ask!'

  'Well, he took care of you last night, and you seemed happy enough about that So I assumed it was okay to accept his offer.'

  Zoe ground her teeth together to stop herself bursting out with the fury she felt She knew that would worry Sancha.

  Her sister was already worried, watching her uneasily. 'You know I'd love to have you stay with us, but we don't have a spare bedroom. Unless…' She frowned in thought, chewing her lower lip. 'Well, the boys could move back in together again, and then you could have the little spare room, but I'm afraid it's full of Charlie's toys and…oh, it wouldn't take me long to clear the room, I expect.'

  Zoe heard the note of panic in her sister's voice; a picture of Charlie's tiny box room flashed into her mind—model planes on strings hanging from the ceiling, posters of cars and Star Wars on the walls, toys on every available surface. It would take Sancha an age to make it habitable for an adult, and it only held a narrow, cramped little bed.

  'No, no, don't even think about it,' she quickly said. CI would prefer to be in my own home. Even if it means putting up with Connel Hillier for a while.' She faked a wide yawn. I'm sleepy again. I can't understand it. I've slept for hours already.'

  'It's the shock. And those pills.' Sancha carried the coffee tray towards the door. I'll have to pop out to check on the kids. Martha's looking after them but she'll need a break from Flora soon.'

  'I bet!'

  Her sister looked reproachfully at her. 'Look, you just have a sleep and I'll bring you your lunch when I get back.'

  Zoe lay back and shut her eyes. Ten minutes dragged past before she heard her sister driving away. Jumping out of bed, Zoe picked up the phone, rang for a taxi, then got dressed hurriedly. Sancha would be furious with her, but her job mattered too much to risk losing it Sancha had no idea how vital money was in the film business, how much you could lose by losing a day or two, and how ruthless the film business could be if you threatened the prompt wrapping up of a film.

  A quarter of an hour later, in blue jeans and a warm, camel-coloured sweatshirt, she was on her way to a local garage where she had often hired a car in the past. The manager had already heard about her crash, and observed her even more closely than he usually did. He was never offensive with his interest in her, simply one of those men who always register the way a woman looks.

  'I was expecting you to look terrible, but apart from a few cuts I'd hardly know you had had an accident I hear the same couldn't be said about your car! A total write-off, isn't it? You'll be needing a new one—come and see what I've got,' he invited, but she shook her head.

  'No time today—I'll pop in on Saturday.'

  'Now, don't you go elsewhere, Zoe. I'll give you a good deal,' he assured her as she drove off in his blue Ford hire car.

  They were filming on location an hour's drive from her home. They had broken for lunch when she drove up. Most of the actors were sitting in their caravans, eating the salad meal the caterers had provided. Some of the crew were eating that too, but others were eating sausages and chips swimming in baked beans. They all turned their heads to stare as she got out of the car. A ripple of murmured comment broke out.

  Will, in grubby jeans sagging at the hips and a mud-smeared sweatshirt, came to meet her, grinning as his eyes slid quickly over the visible evidence of her crash.

  'You fraud! There's nothing wrong with you—and I just sent you flowers!' He folded her in his arms and hugged her; it was like being embraced by a shambling bear smelling of machine oil.

  'That was nice of you, Will,' she said, gently detaching herself without making it obvious. 'Who's directing?'

  Will grimaced his rugged face wry. 'The company's looking for someone, but at the moment I'm carrying on with your schedule, using the shooting script and your notes. I asked them if I could and they agreed, in the hope that you'd be back in a day or so. I shot Scene 45 this morning, no dialogue, just a slow pan of the landscape, and I've blocked out that short snatch of dialogue between Freak and Philip. We went over it while they were having lunch in their caravans. The light's fine, and I didn't think they'd need much direction, they're both so good.' He eyed her uncertainly, not sure how she would react, and she smiled reassurance at him.

  'Great. I don't know why I bothered to come; obviously you can manage withou
t me.'

  'Rubbish,' he said, instantly. 'You'd talked me through today's schedule on Friday. I knew what you wanted me to do, and so did the actors. We just carried on with your instructions. You always prepare so well, as I said to Ben Green.'

  'And what did he say?' she dryly asked. The man-aging director of the company backing the film, a bald, eagle-eyed man in his fifties, was usually fair-minded, but when money was at stake he could be difficult An accountant and a lawyer, he was good at his job but obsessed with the cost of everything, always looking to cut corners financially.

  'He said he knew you did, and we were to go ahead with what you had laid down for today while he thought about who to replace you with if you didn't come back soon.'

  'You probably saved my job!' Zoe sighed. 'Thanks, Will. I'll just get myself some salad, and then we'll start work again. If you don't mind, I would like to check how you blocked the scene before we shoot I'm sure you did a great job, but I need to know how it looks.'

  'Sure, of course,' he said. I'll get the stand-ins out to take up the positions. Do you want to check the scene I shot? I can get it up on video for you?'

  'Oh, I'm sure you did your usual brilliant job, Will. I'll see it this evening when we look through everything we shot today.'

  As Zoe walked over to the caterers' caravan her production runner, Barbara, hurried over to join her, a slim girl in workman-like dark blue dungarees and a bright yellow shirt.

  'I thought you weren't coming to work today? The guy who answered your phone this morning said you would be off sick for several days.' Barbara's bright hazel eyes were taking in her cuts and bruises. 'From what he told me about this crash, you were lucky to get off with just a few minor injuries.'

  'Very lucky,' agreed Zoe emphatically, turning to order salad from the girl behind the counter.

  Chewing gum and looking bored, the girl asked, 'Tuna and peach or cheese?'

  'Tuna, please,' Zoe looked with disfavour at the girl's rather grubby-looking scarlet talons as they unwrapped Clingfilm from a salad taken out of the small fridge at the back.

  'Drink?' the girl yawned.

  'Just mineral water, thanks.'

  Going back to the fridge, the girl took out a bottle, turned to clatter it down on Zoe's tray. 'Pudding? We've got fruit or cake.'

  'No pudding, thanks. By the way, your hands need washing, have you noticed? Will you do that now?'

  She got a poisonous look, but as she walked away the girl went to the sink and began noisily washing her hands, muttering, 'Who does she think she is? Bitch. My hands are perfectly clean.'

  Barbara giggled. 'She's not going to love you.'

  'Do I care? It would cost us a fortune if she spread salmonella among the cast and crew.'

  Barbara kept pace with her and after a pause asked, 'He sounded tough—who was he?'

  Without looking at her, Zoe frowned. 'Who was who?'

  'The guy I talked to on the phone this morning. It wasn't your brother-in-law, was it?'

  'No, it wasn't Mark,' Zoe said curtly.

  Barbara's bright, curious eyes watched her eagerly. 'Someone new? Is he good-looking? He sounds it.'

  'How can you sound good-looking, for heaven's sake?'

  'He has a sexy voice!'

  Zoe felt as if she had been punched in the stomach. Her lungs fought for breath. It was only too true—Connel had a deep, velvety, gorgeous voice, as sexy as hell.

  'I hadn't noticed,' she huskily lied, sitting down at the small table in her caravan and beginning to eat. Barbara stood at the door, watching her. 'Were there any messages for me?' Zoe asked her curtly.

  'Only one from Casting—Lee Williams won't be playing the policeman. He's gone into hospital with appendicitis. They've replaced him with Hal Thaxford.'

  Zoe turned appalled eyes on her. 'You're kidding!'

  Barbara grinned with a gleeful triumph. 'I knew you wouldn't like it.'

  Grinding her teeth, Zoe muttered, 'Like it? Understatement of the year. Jenny knows I hate working with Pinocchio. What does she think she's doing? Surely they could have found somebody better than him!'

  'Apparently, nobody was free at the time. She said she'd tried, but had no luck. Do you want me to get her on the line for you?'

  'I haven't got time now; I'll ring her later.' Zoe concentrated on her food. 'Tell them I'll be on the set in five minutes, will you, Bar?'

  Barbara hurried away. As she drank her cold, sparkling water Zoe stared at nothing. Connel Hillier was problem enough. She did not need Hal Thaxford around too, especially after hearing from Connel what Hal had said about her. Heartless, manipulative, cruel… Her teeth met. And Connel had believed every word!

  Well, at least she would get a chance to tell Hal Thaxford precisely what she thought of him, and she wouldn't spare her language, either.

  Maybe he would think twice about spreading vicious gossip about her if she threatened to sue him!

  Loading her tray again, she got up and carried it out of the caravan, handed it to Barbara to take back to Catering, and started work.

  The sun was sinking by the time she finished shooting the scene. Tomorrow we'll shoot Scene 70; it's another short one, with Fran and Dexter this time. Only a page of dialogue; we don't need a rehearsal. Wrap it up for me, would you, Will?' she asked, conscious of weariness. Her head was aching badly, her body was stiff, her ribs hurt every time she took a breath.

  'Sure. Are you okay? You're very pale.' He stared at her in concern and she managed a tired smile.

  'I'll be fine once I get home. See you tomorrow, Will.'

  The drive home was an ordeal; she was dying to get home, have a hot bath, get to bed. It took all her energy to keep her mind on driving. She couldn't even think, just drove on automatic pilot She didn't want another crash!

  As she finally turned in through her own gates she looked uneasily towards the cottage, afraid to see lights on inside, which would mean that Sancha was waiting for her, full of reproaches and recrimination. Zoe was too tired to face her sister tonight, so she was deeply relieved to see that the house was dark; there was nobody there.

  With accustomed skill rather than decision, she parked outside in her usual spot, got out, yawning and shivering.

  The day's work had been rather more of a strain than she had anticipated. She would be filming again tomorrow, yet in her heart she knew she would much rather stay at home, in bed. Not that she would have admitted that, especially to Sancha. Or Connel. No, never to him. Her job meant more than anything else in her life; she had to be there on the set, tomorrow, even if she felt like death warmed up.

  There were no other houses in view, no street lights, and the stars were veiled in cloud, making the darkness seem impenetrable as she walked to the front door. Her nerves prickled at something in the atmosphere—a faint sighing, which was probably only the wind in the trees, an expectation which had to be her own imagination. There was nobody there, yet she felt as if someone was watching her, someone was waiting in the shadows, making a shiver run down her spine.

  She had her key out before she reached the door, it turned in the lock and she took a step inside the cottage, but at that second something moved behind her, there was a noise on the gravel, like hurrying feet, then somebody cannoned into her, hit from the back and propelled her forward, the force of that impact sending her toppling helplessly, fall length on the carpet.

  Winded, she lay there for a second, gasping for breath. Connel had gone too far this time! How dared he knock her over like that? She began to struggle up, but a second later hands grabbed her, pulled her up, turned her face upwards.

  'What do you think you're doing…?' she angrily began, only to be silenced by a mouth coming down on her open lips.

  Suffocating, Zoe fought to push him away. His hands were touching her in a way that scared her stiff, pushing up under her jacket, under her sweatshirt, fondling her breasts.

  This wasn't Connel. She knew the smell of Connel, his build, his firm, cool hands. This wasn
't him.

  Who was it? In God's name, who was it? And what…what did he plan to do to her?

  Fear paralysed her; she trembled, cold sweat on her skin, her throat thick with dread.

  CHAPTER SIX

  From the garden a cold wind blew in through the open door, chilling her even more, but in a different way, kick-starting her brain again. She had once filmed a women's self-defence course—they had dealt with just such a situation as this. What had the tutor advised them to do?

  Deliberately she removed her mind from the panic and terror of what he was doing to her body. She didn't always remember what was said, but she rarely forgot anything she saw. Her mind flashed her an image of a hall full of women. Yes, that was it!

  Pulling her head as far back as she could, she went for his eyes, pushing her thumbs into both at the same time, while in the same instant she pulled a knee up as hard as she could into his groin.

  He gave a grunt of pain and let go of her breasts, his hands reaching up to push her thumbs out of his eyes.

  'You bitch, that hurt!'

  'Get off me!' she yelled, her hands now screwed into fists, and began hitting him in the face. She kicked him, too, in the shins, on the ankles, with a force that made one of her shoes fly off.

  He was sweating viciously, trying to hold her down, control her again, and suddenly Zoe recognised his voice.

  'Larry!'

  He stopped swearing, lay still for a few seconds, then gave a hoarse, strangled groan.

  'You…you bastard!' she breathed hoarsely. 'Get off me!' She had never been afraid of Larry, only disturbed by that obsessive nature of his. Angrily she shoved him away.

  'Zoe…listen…I wouldn't have hurt you…I just wanted to…needed to…hold you, touch you. I love you. You know I do.'

  'If this is your idea of love, God help you,' she bit out 'Now, will you get up?'

  Silently, he scrambled off her and stood up. Zoe got up too, and reached for the light switch, blinking as the darkness was flooded with bright light.