Payment In Love

‘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.

Her body had swelled up and her skin had flamed painful scarlet. And, as if that hadn’t been enough, she had been diabolically sick, and had had to stay indoors for almost a week with the curtains closed, and her mother constantly applying calamine lotion.

‘Your skin will be like leather by the time you’re forty,’ she added acidly.

‘While yours will still feel like the most expensive kind of silk velvet.’

It took several seconds for his comment to sink in, and when it did she turned and stared open-mouthed at him, her shock registering in the rounded darkness of her amber eyes.

‘What’s wrong, Heather? Surely you’re used to men commenting on the delicate quality of your skin. Your lovers …’

His voice was having a curious effect on her senses. She had never had him speak to her in that soft, caressing tone before, and apprehension flared to life inside her as she tried to reject its effect.

The images he was conjuring up shocked her. She felt tongue-tied with a mixture of embarrassment and fury, and although she was unaware of it her eyes had darkened as they always did when she was either disturbed or afraid.

‘I’ve already told you, I didn’t come here to talk about my private life, Kyle …’

‘As I understand it, there isn’t much to talk about.’

He straightened up and carried on before she could digest the full import of his words. ‘I will go and see your father, Heather. When I’ve seen him, you and I will probably need to talk again. Are you free to lunch with me tomorrow? I have to fly to the States the day after to see a potential client.’

What could she say? She had to agree, and she was half-way back to the van before she realised exactly what Kyle had said to her before making that lunch appointment. She stopped dead in her tracks, aware of the black looks her unexpected action was earning her from people forced to avoid colliding with her.

How could Kyle know anything about her personal life? It had been six years since they had last met, and yet he had spoken with such authority, such confidence—almost as though he knew all there was to know about her. But how could that be? Unless … unless he had been keeping tabs on them. She frowned. But if that had been the case he would already have known about her father. Frowning now, she tried to recall if he had shown any reaction to her announcement, but Kyle had always been good at keeping his feelings to himself. Besides, she had been far too tense and wrought up to pay much attention to how he was looking.

She had achieved what she had hoped for, or at least the first part of it. She ought to be feeling triumphant and relieved, but she wasn’t. She didn’t want Kyle Bennet back in their lives, not in any capacity; and yet, for her parents’ sake, she knew she would have to endure him. If he allowed himself to become a part of their lives. There was always the chance that he would go back on his word, or perhaps just visit her father, and leave it at that.

Whatever happened, her parents must never know that she had prompted his visit. They would hate that. No, that must remain her secret, hers and Kyle’s. It gave her an odd feeling to know that she shared something with him from which her parents were excluded.

CHAPTER THREE

THE snow, which had not lain particularly deeply on the road in Bath itself, thickened once Heather was clear of the city, although fortunately it had stopped falling. The van was old and inclined to be temperamental, and by the time she got home Heather was suffering from the most excruciating tension headache.

She knew that she ought to have something to eat, but the thought of food was totally nauseating. Instead, she made herself a strong cup of coffee and sat down in the old kitchen chair that the cats thought of as their special preserve. Hilda, the oldest of them, a farm tabby of immense dignity, glared balefully at her and then vented her ire on Meg, spitting at the dog as she sat down at Heather’s side.

Was she cushioned from reality living here with her parents? It was an almost idyllic existence for anyone who felt the way she did about the countryside; her work was not particularly arduous, and certainly could never be compared with the rat-race suffered by those who had to commute every day to cities like London. Without putting his scorn into words, Kyle had still managed to imply that he found her contemptible; or was it just her own intense sensitivity where he was concerned that made her question herself like this? Kyle had remarked that the business was barely able to support her parents, never mind providing a salary for her as well. That had been quite true, but what he could not know was that recently she had found herself shouldering more and more of the responsibility for the company. Her father had complained of feeling tired, and now she berated herself for not questioning him more deeply, for not seeing that his lack of enthusiasm was a pointer to his physical vulnerability.

She wasn’t a complete fool. She knew that the business was slowly going downhill, that the work was going to be too much for her father, and yet, without the business, how could her parents possibly survive?

Her anxiety drove her to abandon her comfortable chair in the kitchen and go instead to the small, cold backroom they used as an office. Once there, she opened the desk drawer that held the company’s books.

It took the lack of light in the small room to make her realise how long she had spent there. Raising her head, she massaged the back of her neck tiredly. It made no difference which way she did the calculations; they were still perilously close to the edge of bankruptcy. Why had her father never told her about the mortgage he had taken out on the house? She closed her eyes, alarmingly near to tears, longing for someone to confide in and hand her worries over to, and yet at the same time knowing that there was nothing anyone could do to help.

It was almost four o’clock. Soon her mother would be ringing, and she had promised that she would go round to the village hall tonight and help to put up the decorations.

Almost on cue, the phone rang, but to her shock it wasn’t her mother on the other end of the line, but Kyle Bennett. She was so stunned that it was several seconds before she could speak.

‘Not still sulking with me because I told you a few home truths, are you?’ Kyle asked her dulcetly, and instantly her fatigue vanished and anger burned through her.

‘You’ve got the wrong woman, Kyle,’ she told him crisply. ‘I don’t sulk. What do you want?’