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'Chorizo al diablo,' Mark told her. 'Devilled sausage to you.' He was learning Spanish because they had rented a villa in Marbella for a fortnight next spring, and Mark was determined to be able to talk to shopkeepers and waiters in restaurants.
'Devilled sausage to you, too,' Zoe said, tasting a piece. 'Mmm, delicious,' she told her sister. 'I must try cooking chorizo some time. You can use it on pizzas, can't you?'
'Pity you can't cook,' teased Mark.
Coldly she informed him, 'I can cook. I just never have the time.'
'And nobody to cook for,' murmured Mark.
Sancha looked uneasy. I'll get the pudding,' she said, getting up to begin clearing the table.
Zoe went with her, partly to get away from Mark's teasing, and partly so that she could talk alone with her sister.
As they loaded the dishwasher in the kitchen Sancha said, 'Did you know Connel was in South America again?'
Zoe kept her face averted, feeding cutlery into the tray at the top of the machine. 'Yes, I had heard.'
'Mark thinks he's planning another of his expeditions—Connel loves South America. I suppose running a business here isn't as exciting as traveling around hot, exotic places. But it makes things difficult for Mark because when Connel's out of touch it can hold up decisions. Mark can handle most things, but where big money is concerned he needs Connel's agreement before he can sign a deal.'
Zoe felt like breaking down in tears. So Connel was planning another long trip abroad? She couldn't bear the thought of never seeing him again, but she had to hide it from her sister and brother-in-law. Had to smile and smile however much it hurt. The thought of Sancha and Mark realising how she felt was unbearable.
After all she had said about men and the folly of falling in love—how could she admit that she had fallen hard, at last, for a man who didn't feel the same?
'Mark suspects he's running away,' Sancha said.
Zoe stiffened. 'What does that mean? Running away from what?'
'From whom, you mean! Mark says Bianca has her sights set on him. Keeps ringing up, turning up at the office on transparent pretexts. If Connel isn't careful he'll end up marrying her, so he's decided to leave the country!'
'Wouldn't it be easier just to make it clear he doesn't want to marry her?' Zoe said angrily. Why did Bianca think Connel might marry her? Had he slept with her too?
'You met her. Do you think she'd meekly disappear?'
'If he was blunt enough, what else could she do?'
Sancha gave her an incredulous glance. 'What you know about human nature could be written on the back of a postage stamp, couldn't it? Women like that don't take no for an answer. Connel's rich and sexy. Of course she isn't going to give up hope just because he says he doesn't want to get married. In fact, she would take his saying that as a come-on. Mention marriage and you're admitting the possibility. She's the bloodhound type. Connel's probably wise to flee the country.'
Zoe brooded over that as she drove home that evening towards her cold, lonely cottage. Would Connel even come back? She might never see him again. She stared out through the windscreen at passing headlights, barely noticing anything.
Autumn gales had hit their part of the country that afternoon, rattling windows, howling through bare trees, filling the gutters with the last brown leaves, twigs, fallen branches, making driving difficult and even dangerous. She shivered as she dashed from her car into the house, then froze as she heard a sound behind her. There was someone lurking in the darkness.
Not Larry again! she thought, and put on a burst of speed in the hope of getting into the house before he caught up with her.
'It's me, Zoe!' a voice said from the dark as she got to the front door, and she stopped dead, recognising it, turned sharply, a hot pulse going in her throat.
She couldn't believe it for a second, staring fixedly as his tall figure came closer, his eyes glinting in the darkness of his face.
She swallowed 'You're back.' Her voice sounded so fiat and calm, she was astonished by it Nobody would ever guess what was happening inside her, the wild turmoil of her blood, the weakness of her legs, the desire leaping like fire through her flesh.
'Where have you been? I've been waiting here for a couple of hours. Saturday is your day off. I thought you would be at home.'
'I had lunch with Sancha and Mark.'
They were talking casually, as if they were acquaintances. Was that how he thought of her? As someone he barely knew?
Barely, she thought, trembling. He knew her naked and dressed. Inside and out.
'Damn it. I thought of ringing Mark but I didn't want to talk about work and I didn't know if you had told them about us.'
