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'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.
