Hot Surrender

Zoe looked disbelievingly at her sister and Sancha had the grace to laugh and admit, 'Well, not as often, anyway.'

'Only once or twice a day now, you mean?'

'No, once or twice a week! And when she does get into a tantrum it's nowhere near as earsplitting!' Sancha looked round with bright eyes. 'And Connel might come, too; Mark mentioned the idea to him and he seemed really keen. These chalets usually have half a dozen bedrooms so it works out cheaper for a big group of us to go.'

'Goodnight, Sancha,' Zoe said tersely, giving her a little push through the door.

'Think about it,' Sancha called, running to her car, her hair whipped into tangles by the wind.

Not answering, Zoe waved as her sister drove off, then thankfully shut the door on the chill of night and went up the stairs to bed.

Her sister was at her favourite game—matchmaking! For years she had been trying to find Zoe a husband. Why did married couples feel this urge to get their unmarried friends and relatives paired off? Presumably they couldn't stand to see other people free and happy!

Well, Sancha could forget it No doubt it seemed a wonderful idea to match her with Mark's boss, but it wasn't going to happen. No way. Zoe didn't want to get married, for a start, and if she ever did so much as consider the idea the man would not be anything like Connel Hillier. He was exactly the type of guy she most disliked.

Interfering, domineering, high-handed, far too sine of himself, with the fixed idea that women were frail, delicate creatures who needed to be protected from themselves as well as other people.

True, he was more domesticated than she would ever have guessed he might be. She had to admit he could cook pretty well, and he was good at housework too. The man had depths to him she found surprising; he could be gentle, thoughtful, soothing. He had made an excellent nurse.

If she was honest, she would have to admit that she had missed him over the days since he went to London. He was good company, he made her laugh, which was something not many men did! And he's sexy, her conscience made her add No denying that! That long, muscled body did something drastic to her heartbeat.

He's not just sexy, she thought He's gorgeous, with those dark eyes, and that mouth…

Oh, stop it! she told herself, hurrying into the bathroom. She should be thinking about tomorrow's schedule, not Connel Hillier. Noisily splashing her face, she dwelt on what she would be shooting tomorrow.

Climbing into bed a few minutes later, she put out the light and yawned. What was Connel doing in London? she wondered, then caught herself at it and groaned aloud. She must stop thinking about that man. He turned up in her head far too often; it was time to evict him from her mind.

She dreamt about him instead.

In the morning as she was showering she tried to remember those dreams, but they had faded already. All she retained of them was a dim memory of Connel. It was probably just as well she had forgotten what he had been doing, she decided, viciously brushing her tangled red hair. And stop thinking about him! she told her flushed reflection.

By Friday her energy level was totally flat, and it began to show by lunchtime.

'Take the rest of the day off,' Will quietly said as they shared a tasteless cheese salad in her caravan. 'I can manage on my own this afternoon. You look as if you've reached the end of your rope.'

She put down the forkful of soapy cheese she had been about to put reluctantly into her mouth.

'Oh, Will, that would be such a relief!' Picking up her schedule, she considered the two short scenes they would be shooting later. There should be no problems in either of them for someone as experienced as Will. 'I must admit, I'm feeling terrible. My battery just ran out. If you're sure you don't mind?'

'Why should I mind? You know my ambition is to direct! I'd jump at the chance to practise! And, anyway, those two scenes are pretty straightforward The actors know their words and their marks; we'll skate through them, no worries!'

She gave him a warm hug. 'You're a real mate! Thanks, Will.' Before leaving, she spoke to the rest of the crew and the actors; nobody voiced any objections to Will taking over. Ten minutes later she was on her way home.

It was a cold, bright day, troubled only by gusts of wind. Gutters at the side of the roads were filling up with russet, brown and orange leaves from the stripping trees, which tossed and swayed like dancers, while curls of blue-grey smoke twisted up from the gardens of cottages, giving a nostalgic scent to the autumn air. It was a pity to spend a day like this in bed, but Zoe was too tired to do anything else.

On reaching her cottage she read her post, discovered there were no messages on her answer-machine, made herself a cup of tea and a slice of toast and peanut butter, took them up to bed with her, took off her jeans and shirt and got between the sheets. She ate her toast, drank her tea, yawning, with heavy lids, then gratefully lay down and five minutes later was fast asleep.

It seemed seconds later when she was woken up by a loud, persistent ringing.

Heart thumping, flushed and off balance, Zoe sat up, believing at first that the noise was her alarm going off and reaching to switch it off only to realise as she took hold of the clock that the sound came from elsewhere. From downstairs, in fact.

It was now dark outside; looking at the green-glowing hands of the clock she was startled to see it was nine in the evening— she must have slept for six hours! And someone was ringing her doorbell.

Who would come visiting at this time of night? Sancha? The ringing was still just as shrill, just as insistent. She stumbled out of bed, ran to the window and looked out. It wasn't her sister. That was a man, tall and unmistakably male in jeans and a sweater.

Not Larry? she thought, heart sinking. She hadn't heard from or seen him since the last time he was here. Optimistically she had begun to believe she would never be bothered by him again.

She opened the window, and at the sound of the latch grating backwards the tall, dark figure at the front door stepped back at the sound of the window being opened wide and stared up at her.