'You did what?' Aghast and angry, she stared at him, tugging free of his restraining hand so violently it sent a stab of pain into her ribs and she had to bite down on her inner lip to stop herself groaning.
Hoarsely, she yelled at him, 'You had no business to tell them any such thing! How dare you interfere like that? I can't afford to miss a day's filming; the company might replace me, permanently, with another director.'
'Not just for the sake of a day or two! You're being paranoid They'll wait for you to come back if they know it will only be a short delay. You can't go to work, Zoe, it could be dangerous. You may have concussion, you're certainly in pain a lot of the time, and you're obviously still in shock. Get it into your head, woman— you must rest. The doctor knows what he's doing, and he said you mustn't do anything for a few days. That was a very nasty accident you had; you're lucky to be alive.'
'You don't understand film companies—I'm not paranoid; I just know them. The insurance people will demand a new director. It drives them crazy if they think you're going to fall behind with the schedule; even one day's loss means losing money. They're probably already looking for someone to take over from me so that they don't lose any more time.' She turned to pick up her clothes from the chair, where he had flung them, but Connel moved even faster.
He picked her up bodily and carried her, struggling, to her bed, slid her into it and sat down on the edge, leaning over to hold her down by both shoulders.
'It won't do any good to fight me. For once, Zoe, you'll do as you're told!'
A gasp from the open door made them both turn to stare across the room.
Her sister stood there, staring bolt-eyed at them. 'What on earth is going on? Zoe? Are you okay?'
'No, I'm not
,' Zoe shouted, flushed and trembling, her green eyes burning with unshed tears of pure rage. 'Get this brute off me. Throw him out of the house.'
Sancha gave Connel an uncertain, worried look. He was her husband's new boss, after all; clearly she wasn't sure how to deal with this situation.
Connel let go of Zoe and stood up, raking back a dishevelled lock of dark hair. 'I found her trying to get dressed to go to work! She must not be allowed to get up, Sancha. She's still in a state of shock and she might have concussion. Make her stay in bed.'
'Get out of my house!' yelled Zoe, half choked at the arrogance and dominating nature of the man.
'I'll get a doctor to deal with her,' he coolly told her sister, without even looking at Zoe.
'You won't do anything of the kind! Go away and don't come back. I never want to set eyes on you again!'
Infuriatingly, he laughed. 'Don't kid yourself.' Turning, he kissed her hard, briefly, on the mouth, making her lips burn, sending a shiver down her spine. 'See you later. Sancha, don't let her get dressed or leave. Make her stay in bed.'
Then he was gone and Sancha stood there staring at her, eyes like saucers and mouth parted.
'What is going on between you two?'
Face hot, body restless in the bed, Zoe wildly said, 'Nothing. Nothing at all. I can't stand the man!'
'Are you sure?' Sancha went on watching her doubtfully.
Angrily, Zoe snapped, 'What do you mean, am I sure? He's everything I hate in a man.'
'If anyone had asked me if he was your type, I'd have said absolutely not,' Sancha agreed. 'But…why did he kiss you? I didn't get the impression it was the first time, either. So, what's going on, Zoe?'
CHAPTER FIVE
The morning wore on; Zoe lay in bed, half-drowsing, half-worrying about losing another day's filming. She heard her sister hurrying about busily downstairs, putting on the washing machine, vacuuming. At eleven Sancha brought a tray of coffee and biscuits upstairs. Giving her sister a mug of milky coffee and a shortbread biscuit she must have made, because Zoe didn't keep tempting foods in the house, she perched on the side of the bed and smiled. 'The house is spotless, don't worry.'
She got a dry look in response. 'I wasn't! The state of the house was the last thing on my mind. I'm far more anxious about my film. Sancha, listen, you don't want me to be out of work, do you? If I don't turn up again I'll lose my job, surely you can see that?'
'Oh, for goodness' sake—have you forgotten that you nearly killed yourself yesterday? Connel told me your car was a total write-off.'
'But I'm not! I just have a few scratches…'
'You can't see yourself; you look terrible! Horrible blue bruises on your arms and face, not to mention the cuts! And shock takes days to wear off!'
'Oh, thanks, you're such a comfort!'
'I'm not allowing you to leave that bed. Don't think you'll get round me, so drink your coffee and eat your biscuit.'