Hot Surrender

'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.