Free A Bad Enemy by Sara Craven

foyer. Establishing ownership, Lisle thought wryly. In spite of her anger, and other confused emotions, she was irresistibly reminded of a scene from a John Wayne movie where a minor character had been moved to make the immortal protest, 'I'll thank you to unhand my fee-anc-ay.' She imagined saying it, and seeing those blue eyes, glazing over in disbelief, and the perfectly moulded lips gaping unprettily.
    'I'm not nice,' she decided with a certain satisfaction.
    Oliver was saying, '
Now
I know where I've seen you before. You've been in all the papers. You're going to play the lead in a big film in the States.'
    Cindy Leighton smiled, displaying perfect teeth, and Lisle wondered, purely academically, how much time and money it would take to restore that perfection, should some accident befall.
    'I've been incredibly lucky,' she murmured modestly. 'There was really fierce competition for the part. I can't imagine why they chose me.'
    'Novelty value,' Lisle heard herself suggest.
    'Of course British actresses have always been very big in the States,' Cindy went on, treating the last remark as unsaid. 'I just hope I live up to everyone's expectations of me.' She made a little rueful face which she probably practised in front of her mirror every morning. 'It's the most wonderful chance, but—' she sent a laughing look at Jake in which she also managed to combine wry regret, and unequivocal sexual desire. One of her audition pieces? Lisle wondered. 'It would have to happen just now. Frankly, I feel torn in half.'
    Well, guess who won't want the half that talks, the malicious stranger currently inhabiting Lisle's brain muttered, and she could only be thankful that it wasn't aloud. She was shocked at herself. Generally, she liked her own sex. She'd never regarded other women as rivals or potential enemies, even though she didn't go along with total sisterhood either. She thought, 'I must be drunk', and giggled.
    Jake said icily, 'I think your taxi's arrived.'
    Oliver's arm was round her, protective but oddly alien. The air in the street felt very cold after the centrally heated atmosphere of the restaurant, shocking her into sudden sobriety. Tentatively, she offered Oliver her cheek, but his eyes were fixed greedily on her mouth, and she knew she wasn't going to get away with it this time. As she endured the eager cling of his lips, she wondered if Jake was watching. She kept her mouth clamped shut and after what seemed an age he let her go, evidently disappointed by her lack of response. As he had every right to be, she thought wearily as she let him put her in the taxi, and close the door. After all, she'd been promising him heaven and earth all through that abominable meal.
    She had a splitting headache by the time she reached the station, and she had half an hour to wait for her train, which didn't help. She drank a cup of coffee she didn't particularly want in the buffet, and told herself she should be glad she wasn't at Oliver's flat discovering how his technique differed from Jake's.
    She could hardly believe that it was herself, Lisle Bannerman, who was thinking these things, even admitting them as possibilities. It was totally out of character. But then perhaps everyone reacted like that when their world was pushed sideways suddenly. Ever since Jake Allard had walked into her life the previous evening, she had lost touch with herself in some strange way. The real Lisle would never have behaved as she had done, she thought restlessly.
    She dozed a little on the train, aware of swift and disturbing dreams which she was glad she could not remember too clearly.
    There was no dread message from the hospital waiting when she got back to the Priory, and she whispered a silent prayer of thankfulness as she went up to her room. She changed into a pair of elderly denims, topping them with a navy Guernsey sweater, and scooped her hair back, confining it with an elastic band at the nape of her neck.
    The secondhand Mini she used as a