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'The Star company is the best. Shall I ring for a taxi for you?'
'Thank you, would you?' She gave the housekeeper her address. 'Ask them to pick me up outside the gates, would you? A short walk in the fresh air will wake me up.'
Opening the front door, she breathed in the mild autumn scents of the garden, said goodnight, and closed the door again to begin walking down the drive, wishing she wasn't wearing those high, fragile heels. She couldn't run in them, and she was afraid Connel would find out she had left and come after her.
What can he do to you, if he does? she asked herself crossly. And, anyway, with any luck the blonde would detain him long enough to give her time to get away in her taxi. Something about the possessive way that woman had fastened on to Connel had left Zoe with the definite feeling that the other woman had designs on him, as well as his house.
Pulling her black velvet cape closer, Zoe shivered suddenly, as if a cold wind had suddenly begun to blow.
What's the matter with you? she scolded herself. Do you care whether or not the man marries the predatory blonde? What did it matter to her what he did?
With relief she heard the sound of a car approaching and turned to look down the road. There was no sign of a vehicle in either direction.
But she could still hear a car. Her heart flopped like a fish out of water as it dawned on her that the car was behind her, coming down the drive.
Maybe it was Mark and Sancha? Superstitiously, she crossed her fingers, turning to peer past the headlights to see the make of car, but she couldn't identify it, could only tell it was something sleek and red. A sports car. Not Mark's car, certainly. She had an uneasy suspicion she knew whose car it was. It drew up beside her and Connel's face loomed out of the dark interior.
'Get in!'
'Go away!' she said, desperation in her throat.
'Don't be stupid, Zoe.'
'I'm waiting for a taxi!'
'I cancelled it.'
She looked through the open window, anger blazing in her eyes. 'You did what? How dare you? You had no right!'
'Get in or I'll have to get out, pick you up and chuck you in!'
She began to walk away. The car idled beside her. Connel suddenly began to laugh, which made her angrier.
'What do you think you're doing? Going to walk all the way home, are you?'
'Shut up,' she hissed without looking at him, but he was right, of course, she was being ridiculous. In fact, she couldn't believe she was behaving this way, like some love-struck teenager incapable of dealing with how she felt. She had always had her emotions firmly under control. What had happened to her? When had she ever done anything so stupid, acted irrationally, impulsively, without caring how silly she looked?
The sports car shot ahead. He was going, leaving her. To her chagrin she felt her eyes burn with unshed tears.
Oh, stop it! she told herself. Isn't that what you want? For him to go away, leave you alone?
But she didn't know what she wanted; her mind was in total disarray, her heart completely bemused and bewildered.
The sports car jerked to a halt a second later. Connel leapt out and loped back towards her with the lithe threat of a tiger under hot Asian skies.
She actually saw him as a tiger, his powerful muscles rippling under his white shirt, those dark eyes fixed hypnotically on her, and couldn't move, frozen on the spot by fear and fierce attraction.
The second he reached her he picked her up, a hand under her legs, another around her waist, and lifted her off the ground.
She opened her mouth to say, Put me down! but never got the chance.
His mouth came down angrily, fiercely. Zee's eyes shut, plunging her into darkness. Her mind went blank, but her body reacted with such intensity it terrified her. This must be how it felt to be hit by lightning. Her whole body seemed to catch fire; she was being consumed, destroyed, by agony and wild pleasure. Her hands moved without volition, ran up his chest, round his neck, fingers stroking the clenched muscles in his nape, and up into his thick, sleek hair. She kissed him back urgently, needing it, heard his deep groan of satisfaction.
A second later a beam of white seemed to flash behind her closed eyelids, then there was a loud, prolonged hoot which made them both jump.
Another car flashed past, still hooting. The occupants yelled something Zoe didn't, thankfully, catch.
Connel's mouth lifted, and so did his head; he began walking towards his own car a little unsteadily, as if he were drunk, but she knew it wasn't that. She knew how she felt, and if he was as off balance as she was, Connel was no longer in full control of his body, couldn't walk straight, think straight, see straight.
