Penny Jordan - Payment In Love

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Penny Jordan needs no introduction as arguably the most recognisable name writing for Mills & Boon. We have celebrated her wonderful writing with a special collection, many of which for the first time in eBook format and all available right now.Heather dreaded seeing Kyle Bennett again. Six years ago, her stupid, childish jealousy had driven him away from the only home he had ever known. But for her father's sake, now she must ask for his help."What are you asking me for, Heather?" he demanded. ''You want money from me… a cash payment for the years you had to put up with me in your home?''There seemed to be no way to convince Kyle that she regretted what she had done. No way to make him believe that money was not her only driving force.

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Anguish made her veil her eyes from him as the memories she had been fighting to suppress flooded back. It had always been like this between them. The very air in the room seemed fraught with tension and dislike. Why? They were both adults now. She knew that she had been more at fault than Kyle, but surely he could see, just as she had come to see, that each of them had been equally jealous of the other.

‘My parents need you, Kyle,’ she told him quietly, pride strengthening her voice as she added, ‘not because you can pay for Dad’s operation. If either of them knew I was here now, they would be furious. No, they need you because they miss you; because they need someone to lean on.’ She took a deep breath and added shakily, meeting his brooding look head on, ‘They need you because they love you.’

She couldn’t interpret the look he gave her. The silence seemed to last for ever, broken only by the soft hiss of the burning logs. She looked blindly towards the window, sure that she had failed and that he was about to throw her out. Outside, it was still snowing and she shivered. What was the matter with her? She shouldn’t be so cold. She felt hollow and empty inside, and she frowned, trying to remember when she had last had something to eat.

Her muscles ached from the control she was imposing on them; if she relaxed even for a second she would be quivering like a tormented child.

‘I’ll ask you again,’ Kyle said softly. ‘What is it you want from me, Heather?’

He hadn’t thrown her out; she could hardly believe it. Relief made her muscles go weak, the hiss of the logs sank echoingly in her ears, and her own voice seemed to reach her through a vast echoing chamber as she replied huskily, ‘I want you to go and see Dad … You could pretend you’d heard about the heart attack from someone else. Please, Kyle … It would mean so much to him, to both of them. They miss you and I can’t talk to them about it. They … they don’t want to hurt me.’

She made the admission huskily, hating what she must be betraying to him, but although she tensed herself against it, strangely he made no attempt to probe deeper.

‘And you want me to offer to pay for him to have his operation privately?’

‘Yes,’ she agreed baldly, ‘but not because I think you owe them anything, Kyle. What they gave you, they gave freely. If you want to think of it in terms of a payment, then tell yourself it’s payment to me for finally admitting what I’ve known for years, and refused to admit. That my parents love and need you, possibly more than they love and need me.’

There, she had said it. She couldn’t endure any more. She couldn’t wait for his reaction, for his possible cruelty. She turned and headed blindly for the door, desperately trying to blink away her tears.

‘Heather.’

She winced and cried out beneath the fierce pressure of his fingers as they dug into her shoulders.

‘For God’s sake, I’m not going to hurt you. You can stop bristling like an angry cat,’ Kyle told her curtly. ‘I’m not going to hurt you.’

‘You already have,’ Heather retorted shakily, as he released her. Her shoulder felt bruised where he had grabbed hold of her, and as she moved it experimentally she saw him frown.

‘You’re almost skin and bone,’ he told her flatly. ‘What the devil have you been doing to yourself? Don’t tell me you’ve discovered anorexia …’

The gibe hurt, all the more so because it could have been so pertinent. Had the slimmers’ disease received its present-level publicity when she was a teenager, she could all too easily have used it as a form of blackmail against her parents, she suspected. Trust Kyle to see that and turn it to his own advantage.

‘I’m an adult now, Kyle,’ she told him stiffly. ‘I don’t play stupid games like that.’

He studied her in a way that was very unnerving.

‘Yes, I forgot. You opted to undergo counselling after …’

‘After I stupidly pretended I wanted to commit suicide, and it nearly all went wrong? You can say the words, you know, Kyle. That’s part of the therapy. I don’t try to hide away from what I did, and yes, you’re quite right, I did opt to undergo counselling, and it did teach me a lot about myself and my motives, as well as those of others …’

If he realised she was trying to retaliate, and break through his own armour, he did not betray it.

‘You’re too thin,’ he repeated, ignoring her comment. ‘You’ll have to be careful, otherwise you’re going to end up looking haggard. How old are you now? Twenty-four … five?’

He knew damn well she was only twenty-three, Heather thought bitterly, and if he liked his women as lushly curved as the elegant doll in his outside office, then yes, she was too thin.

She said what she was thinking without monitoring her words, and was surprised by the attractiveness of the amused smile that slashed across his face. She had forgotten those creases either side of his mouth, had forgotten how maddeningly, physically compelling he could be when he wished. Possibly because he had never bothered to even try to charm her, she acknowledged wryly.

‘She’s quite something, isn’t she?’ he agreed appreciatively, and then asked blandly, ‘Is there anyone serious in your life at the moment, Heather, or are you still playing at pretending to have a career?’

The taunt hurt, particularly since she herself had always felt that her father had manufactured her job for her. It made no difference that she had flair and a definite artistic talent, she still worked for her father and was paid a salary the business could not really afford.

‘I came here to ask you to go and see my father, Kyle,’ she told him coolly. ‘Not to discuss my personal life. If you won’t …’

She made to walk towards the door and then faltered when he made no move to stop her.

‘Still the same old Heather,’ he drawled cynically. ‘Still trying to use emotional blackmail.’

Instantly, all her good intentions deserted her; her temper, always quick, flared to red-hot heat and she said fiercely, ‘That’s not true. I was not trying to blackmail you.’ She turned round quickly, too quickly, she realised dizzily, as she felt the room start to spin and fade ominously around her.

She was aware of Kyle grabbing hold of her, and then forcing her down into one of the fireside chairs. She even heard him cursing her and calling her a stupid little fool, but for once she felt too confused to protest at the sensation of his hands on her body, pushing away her coat, reaching behind her to release the zip of her dress as he yanked her forward, so that her head flopped down, and she could feel the coldness of the air against her naked back.

The whole affair could only have lasted seconds. No sooner had Kyle pushed her head down than she felt the dizziness start to clear and full awareness return. She sat up immediately, furious to discover that he had lowered her zip so much that she couldn’t reach it without contorting herself.

‘Stop struggling … I’ll do it for you.’

She tensed beneath the cool firmness of his hand on her back. She could feel his breath against her skin, and to her shock the warmth of it raised a betraying rash of small goose-bumps.

‘No holiday this year,’ he remarked casually as he closed the zip for her. ‘Or don’t you believe in exposing such pale skin to the sun’s rays?’

His comment, although impersonal, threw her; she wasn’t used to the intimacy of having a man’s hands on her body, and his comment seemed a further intrusion into her privacy.

‘My skin doesn’t tan. I should have thought you’d remember that,’ she snapped bitterly, remembering the one summer she had tried to outdo his almost permanent golden-brown skin, and had practically given herself third degree burns.

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