Man-Hater

Celebrate the legend that is bestselling author

PENNY JORDAN

Phenomenally successful author of more than two hundred books with sales of over a hundred million copies!

Penny Jordan's novels are loved by millions of readers all around the word in many different languages. Mills & Boon are proud to have published one hundred and eighty-seven novels and novellas written by Penny Jordan, who was a reader favourite right from her very first novel through to her last.

This beautiful digital collection offers a chance to recapture the pleasure of all of Penny Jordan's fabulous, glamorous and romantic novels for Mills & Boon.

Penny Jordan is one of Mills & Boon's most popular authors. Sadly, Penny died from cancer on 31st December 2011, aged sixty-five. She leaves an outstanding legacy, having sold over a hundred million books around the world. She wrote a total of one hundred and eighty-seven novels for Mills & Boon, including the phenomenally successful A Perfect Family, To Love, Honour & Betray, The Perfect Sinner and Power Play, which hit the Sunday Times and New York Times bestseller lists. Loved for her distinctive voice, her success was in part because she continually broke boundaries and evolved her writing to keep up with readers’ changing tastes. Publishers Weekly said about Jordan ‘Women everywhere will find pieces of themselves in Jordan's characters’ and this perhaps explains her enduring appeal.

Although Penny was born in Preston, Lancashire and spent her childhood there, she moved to Cheshire as a teenager and continued to live there for the rest of her life. Following the death of her husband, she moved to the small traditional Cheshire market town on which she based her much-loved Crighton books.

Penny was a member and supporter of the Romantic Novelists’ Association and the Romance Writers of America—two organisations dedicated to providing support for both published and yet-to-be-published authors. Her significant contribution to women's fiction was recognised in 2011, when the Romantic Novelists’ Association presented Penny with a Lifetime Achievement Award.

Man-Hater
Penny Jordan

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

SHE must be getting old, Kelly thought tiredly as she snapped on the office lights. Time was when she had worked well into the evening and had still left the office with her batteries fully charged and her brain working on overdrive, but that had been when she had first started the agency off. Now that it was successful she was missing the challenge of those early days.

She sighed as she pressed the button for the lift. Her offices were in a prestigious block owned by one of the major insurance companies—clients of hers. The publicity work she had done for them had been so successful that she had been able to negotiate a very reasonable rent for the premises.

One of the reasons she had had to work late was that she had spent the morning with her accountant going over the figures for the company’s current trading year. Ian Carlisle had been full of praise and admiration. The company looked set to turn in a record profit. ‘And with the sound capital base it’s had right from the start, you’re in a very good position, Kelly,’ he had told her.

Ian worked for the firm who handled her grandfather’s affairs. He had been the one to shock her with the astounding news of her grandfather’s wealth, shortly after his death. To find herself an heiress at eighteen had come so totally out of the blue that it had taken her quite some time to come to terms with it. Kelly had never dreamed that the grandparents who had brought her up in the modest detached house just outside London had possessed such wealth, and with hindsight she doubted that even her grandmother had known of her husband’s predilection for the Stock Market, nor his astounding success.

At first Kelly had been too overwhelmed by the money to cope with the responsibility of it. It was only later—after Colin—that she had become possessed by the need to make the money work, to prove that women could be just as successful and astute as men.

So why was it that she felt so depressed? By rights she ought to be celebrating the company’s third birthday and its enviable success—not planning a lonely meal in her apartment followed by an early night after she had checked Sylvester’s figures for the Harding contract.

That success often equalled loneliness was something she was only just beginning to realise; but that was what she wanted, wasn’t it? Far better the hard-won fruits of success than the perils of emotional commitment—of relying on another human being. Since Colin she had not relied on anyone other than herself—and that was the way she wanted it, she told herself firmly.

Outside, the streets were empty of the rush hour traffic. Success meant that one could not work a mere nine-to-five day—but it had been worth it, Kelly assured herself, barely giving her reflection more than the merest fleeting glance as she glimpsed her slender trench-coated figure in the store window. Kelly’s was one of the most successful companies of its kind in the city, and Kelly herself had the reputation of being a genius where getting good publicity for her clients was concerned. Top-class advertising agencies vied with one another to work alongside her, and she knew without a trace of vanity that the company’s success was solely due to her own hard work and flair.

So why, tonight of all nights, was she in this oddly introspective mood? Why on earth was she questioning the quality of her life? The cost of total commitment to her career? She had made the choice, no one had forced her. After Colin she could simply have continued as she had done before; she was a wealthy young woman with no need to work. A form of therapy, Ian had once called it, and she wasn’t sure if he wasn’t right. And it had worked. So why was she feeling so restless? She was twenty-six; wealthy in her own right; commercially successful. She was attractive, intelligent, and had a close if small circle of friends. What on earth had she to feel restless about?

By the time she reached her apartment she had managed to throw off her earlier mood, and she unlocked her door with a small sigh of relief.

The apartment had been carefully chosen and decorated to reflect the image of the agency. The walls and carpet of the large living-room merged in matching softly grey blues; two large settees covered in off-white silk facing one another across a glass and stained-wood coffee table that matched the décor exactly, as did the silk-covered cushions heaped artfully on the off-white settees, in colours ranging from soft blue-grey to a rich deep azure. Kelly had employed the same firm of interior designers for the apartment as she had done for the office, and the result was a classical, if somewhat cold perfection. The apartment, as always, was impeccable. Kelly was lucky enough to have a first-class cleaner who came every morning to restore the apartment to its pristine splendour. Normally she enjoyed the cool remoteness of the living room with its gracefully modern Italian furniture, its ‘touch me not’ air of impeccability, but tonight, for some reason, it repelled her, and she found herself thinking instead of the house in Hampstead she had shared with Colin; of the bliss that had been hers for those few short months she had spent planning the décor—a décor far removed from the elegance of her apartment.

What was past was past, she told herself firmly as she shrugged off her trench coat in her bedroom, hanging it up as she had been taught to do by her grandmother, who had been a stickler for tidiness. She remembered that Colin had mocked her for this habit—as he had done for so many things, only at the time she had been too blind to recognise the truth for what it was, and had thought he was simply teasing her.

The excellence of her plain navy pin-striped skirt and white silk blouse spoke for themselves. The silk clung treacherously to the curves of her breasts—too generous in Kelly’s opinion, and in the early days of the company she had had to freeze off the admiring looks of more than one client. Personally she thought her figure too voluptuous. Her waist was too narrow for the fullness of her breasts, her legs too long. If she had to find one word to describe her figure, that word would be ‘flamboyant’, Kelly acknowledged distastefully, and she always dressed in a style that minimised rather than maximised her curves. Her hair was long and dark, and she normally wore it in a neat chignon. She had always worn it long.

Her grandmother used to brush it for her every night, and once released from its constraining pins it had the texture and sheen of rich silk. She really ought to have it cut, she thought, slipping off her skirt and carefully returning it to its hanger, but wearing it up helped to add to her air of reserve, and this had been a useful weapon in establishing the company. Men never tended to take seriously women they were thinking of going to bed with rather than giving a business contract to, and Kelly had found out very quickly that her distant air, coupled with her formal clothes and severe hairstyle, helped to preserve the image she wished to maintain.

The day had tired her more than she had thought. She had little appetite and longed only to relax and go to bed, but first she had those figures to check. She always changed her clothes when she came home at night, never into the jeans and tops she had favoured in the days before Colin, but tonight for some reason something within her rebelled and instead of reaching for the plain dress she had been about to put on, Kelly found herself removing from her wardrobe a richly patterned silk kimono that one of her Japanese customers had sent her the previous Christmas.

The azure blue background enhanced the darkness of her skin and the sapphire depths of her eyes. Her skin was almost too pale—a result of not having had a holiday for too long, she thought ruefully as she tied the sash, and removed the light layer of make-up she had worn during the day, brushing her hair methodically before returning to the living room and curling up on the settee with the papers she had brought home with her.

She was deeply engrossed in the figures when her doorbell pealed. Frowning, she went across to the intercom in the hallway and asked crisply to know the name of her visitor.

‘It’s me, Kelly—Jeremy Benson.’

Kelly’s heart sank as she heard the familiar and, to her ears, faintly unpleasant drawl of her best friend’s husband’s voice. She had never liked Jeremy in the days when he and Sue were merely engaged, and her dislike had grown into loathing in the years that followed. Sue and Jeremy had been married for six years, and Kelly doubted that Jeremy had remained faithful to her friend for even one of them.

Sue and Kelly had been at school together. Sue was the closest friend she had, but ever since Jeremy had made it plain that he was sexually attracted to her, Kelly had found that she saw less and less of her friend, apart from brief shopping trips together, fitted in on Sue’s infrequent visits to London, when Jeremy could not accompany them.

That Jeremy knew how she felt about him, and still persisted in his blatant attempts to seduce her, infuriated Kelly all the more and only reinforced her opinion of men in general, which was that as far as the majority of them were concerned, despite Women’s Lib, and the much vaunted equality beloved of the newspapers, women were still things as opposed to people with equal rights, and that it was simply enough for a man to want and try to take, without having the slightest regard for the feelings, or lack of them, of the object of his wanting.

For Sue’s sake, she had not told Jeremy how much she despised him. He was a weak and vindictive man and over the years she had seen him gradually alienate Sue from all her old friends, so that she was entirely dependent on him emotionally, while he was free to pursue his flirtations and affairs. Sue never mentioned Jeremy’s failings to her, and Kelly genuinely believed that she was not aware of his real personality. She loved him, as she was constantly telling Kelly, and Kelly dreaded what would happen to her friend if she ever discovered the truth. Had she not had first-hand experience of the devastating effect such a discovery could have on a woman in love?

‘Come on, Kelly, don’t keep me waiting down here all night! I’ve got a message for you from Sue.’

It was on the top of Kelly’s tongue to tell him to simply give her the message and go, but she knew that, if she did, Jeremy would consider that he had scored against her. Jeremy was well aware of her aversion to him and, far from putting him off, it only seemed to increase his desire for her. If she refused to let him come up to the apartment he would goad her at a later date of being afraid to be alone with him: twisting the facts until it appeared that she was afraid to be alone with him because she desired him! Kelly knew quite well how his mind worked.

Her mouth twisting bitterly, she told him to come up.

His eyes widened appreciatively as she let him in, and as he bent forward to kiss her cheek, Kelly kept her body rigidly away from him.

He merely looked amused.

‘Still the same old frigid Kelly,’ he mocked. ‘What’s the matter? Afraid of what might happen between us if you really let go? No need to be, old girl.’

His manner, as always, set Kelly’s teeth on edge and she could feel her temper simmering just below boiling point as she poured him a drink and handed it to him before sitting down opposite him.

‘Fantastic place you’ve got here,’ Jeremy said appreciatively, glancing round the room. ‘Sue hasn’t the faintest idea about décor,’ he added disparagingly, ‘but then, of course, I suppose everything’s possible if one has the money.’

Two thrusts with one blow, Kelly thought acidly. First the criticism of her friend, and then the reminder that she had the wealth to buy good taste.

‘You said you had a message for me from Sue,’ she reminded him frostily.

‘Welcoming, aren’t you?’ Jeremy complained, adopting a hurt little boy air that irritated Kelly beyond bearing, although she knew it worked well with poor Sue. ‘We haven’t seen you in months and now you can’t wait to get rid of me.’

‘I’ve got some work to do.’ She indicated the pile of papers beside her. ‘What are you doing in town anyway?’

Jeremy was an accountant with his own practice in the New Forest, where they lived, and it was a constant bone of contention with him that Kelly wouldn’t transfer her business to his practice.

‘A business meeting,’ he told her. ‘And Sue suggested I call and see you. She wants to show off the new house and suggested you might like to come down for the weekend. She’s feeling a bit low at the moment, with the baby and everything.’

Was it Sue who wanted to show off the new house they had just bought, or Jeremy? Kelly wondered acidly, but the last part of Jeremy’s sentence reminded her that her friend had just lost a much wanted baby, and it smote her conscience that apart from a telephone call she had not spoken much to Sue since the tragic event.

‘What’s the matter?’ Jeremy asked, watching her craftily. ‘Don’t you fancy the idea? Or is it that you fancy it too much? There’s something about you, Kelly. It really turns me on; the high-powered woman image. Poor Sue can’t really hold a candle to you. She’s developing into a boring little hausfrau, I’m afraid, and all this fuss about the baby hasn’t helped.’

God, he really was callous and unfeeling! Kelly fumed, longing to tell him that in her opinion Sue was worth ten of him—at least. Part of her longed to refuse the invitation to refute his smug comments, but she valued her friendship with Sue and was suddenly conscious of the fact that her friend probably needed her company badly right now. If she refused there was no telling how Jeremy might react. He was vain enough to poison Sue’s mind against her in the same way he had done with Sue’s other friends, and she could not retaliate by telling Sue the truth—especially not now when she was bound to be feeling particularly insecure.

‘I’ll come,’ she announced briefly, ‘but you really must leave now, Jeremy. I have to finish these figures tonight…’

She got up as she spoke, expecting him to follow her, but instead he reached up, caressing her hip, his gaze blatantly sexual as he stared at her body. A shudder of revulsion coursed through her, as Kelly pushed him away, her face taut with anger.

‘All right, I get the message, but there’ll be other times,’ Jeremy warned her. ‘No woman, even a women like you, can live the life of a nun for ever. See you at the weekend,’ he added mockingly as she opened the door for him.

When he had gone reaction caught up with her and Kelly sank down on to the settee, her face a tortured mask of hatred and pain. God, the arrogance of the male sex! She loathed Jeremy’s touch, and yet he assumed he had the God-given right to touch her, just because he wanted to!

Men! She despised them all! Frigid, Jeremy called her. Well, he was probably right. Colin had said much the same. Colin! She closed her eyes, unable to stop the shudders trembling through her. Dear God, would she never be able to forget?

She had met him just after her grandfather’s death. He had worked in the same office as Ian, as a trainee accountant. They had met when Ian told her about her unexpected inheritance. At first she had been so overcome by the unexpected news that she hadn’t even been able to think properly, and it was Colin who came running after her in the street with the umbrella she had left behind.

That had been the beginning; a fairly innocuous start to the events which had had such a cataclysmic effect upon her whole life.

It had been several days later when she received a telephone call from Colin at her office, asking her to go out with him. She had been drawn to him at first sight and had willingly accepted.

They went out for a meal and then on to a film. Colin had driven her back to her grandparents’ house, where she still lived, in the old banger he had recently bought. He had kissed her goodnight, gently but determinedly, and her heart had sung with joy.

Six weeks later they were engaged. On Colin’s advice she sold the house. He wanted them to have a completely fresh start, he had told her, but she had been startled when he took her to see the large house in Hampstead he thought they should buy. When Kelly protested that it was very expensive, he had reminded her that she was a very wealthy young woman and that anyway the house was an investment for the future, adding that when he had his own practice it would be useful for entertaining clients. Kelly had agreed, although Ian demurred a little when she told him of her plans, warning her that she would have to sell some of her investments to raise the capital.

Several hectic weeks followed. The house was huge and needed certain structural alterations; Colin was away on a course, and their meetings were only infrequent, restricted to discussions on progress with the house, and briefly snatched kisses.

Kelly had an aunt who lived in the north of England, in the Borders. She was Kelly’s father’s aunt really, and quite elderly, and Kelly had promised to visit her. She talked it over with Colin and it was arranged that she would go up for a few days before the wedding so that she could relax. ‘You’ve been working so hard on the house, sweet,’ Colin had told her, ‘that you deserve a rest. I’ll be away in Birmingham at our other office, anyway… Oh, before you leave,’ he had added, ‘I’ve got one or two papers for you to sign—nothing very important.’

She had signed them between kisses, wondering what it would be like to be really Colin’s wife. Her grandmother had brought her up strictly and, a little to her surprise, Colin had made no attempt to press upon her any of the intimacies she had expected. Was he aware of how nervous she felt? she wondered as she travelled north.

Four days later she was back. She had enjoyed her stay with her aunt who, although well into her eighties, was hale and hearty. They had talked about Kelly’s grandparents, and Kelly’s father, who had been in the army and had been killed in Northern Ireland by a car bomb. Kelly’s mother had been with him, and their orphaned daughter had been brought up by her grandparents. She had been four when her parents were killed and barely remembered them.

The wedding was to be a quiet one—a register office affair, although Kelly would have preferred to be married in church.

They weren’t having a honeymoon—Colin had promised to take her away later when he had passed his final exams.

They returned to the house in Hampstead after a brief reception at a large London hotel.

Ian had been there and had kissed her cheek gravely as he told her how lovely she looked.

They returned to the Hampstead house early in the evening. Dusk was just falling, and the drawing room looked pleasant and warm as Kelly snapped on the lamps. All at once she felt awkward and uncertain. Colin had gone upstairs, and she wondered whether she ought to go up too, or whether to wait to change out of her wedding suit until he came down. If only she had more experience! She dismissed the disloyal thought that Colin’s manner was not very lover-like. Perhaps he felt as uncertain as she did herself, and she wished that their courtship had not been so brief and hurried.

‘Bathroom’s free if you want to get changed.’

She wheeled around, blushing a little as Colin walked in. He had changed into jeans and a sweater, and a tingle of excitement fired her blood as she looked at him.

‘Colin…’

She paused uncertainly, willing him to take her in his arms and kiss her, to melt her doubts and fears with the warmth of his love, but instead he merely indicated the drinks tray on the table and asked if she wanted him to pour her one.

Shaking her head, Kelly went upstairs, telling herself that her let-down feeling was only nerves. Of course it was foolish to expect Colin to sweep her into his arms and make mad passionate love to her; modern people simply didn’t behave like that.

She had just walked out of the bathroom when she heard the low hum of voices from downstairs. With no intention of eavesdropping she hesitated, wondering who on earth could have called on them tonight of all nights, when the drawing-room door was suddenly thrown open and she heard Colin saying angrily, ‘Pat, I told you never to come here!’

‘You also told me you loved me,’ Kelly heard a feminine voice reply. ‘You told me you loved me, and that this house was going to be ours—that you would have your own practice and…’

Frozen with horror and disbelief, Kelly crept to the edge of the stairs. Colin and his companion were completely oblivious to her presence.

‘And so we will, darling,’ she heard Colin murmur softly. ‘Everything will work out all right.’

‘But you didn’t have to marry her, did you?’ Kelly heard ‘Pat’ demanding angrily, ‘God, Colin, how could you?’

‘Simple,’ she heard Colin saying with new cynicism, ‘I just closed my eyes and thought of all that lovely money. Oh, come on, Pat,’ he added, ‘you don’t think I actually want her? God, she’s the most boring female I’ve ever known, a little brown mouse and frigid with it. She can’t hold a handle to you, my sweet. The only way I can endure this marriage is by telling myself that it’s for us, that…’

‘But she’s your wife!’

‘Only for six months at the most. I’ve already got her to sign the documents deeding the house to me. Once I’ve persuaded her to give me the money to set up my practice I’ll tell her the marriage is over.’

Kelly felt sick with shock and disbelief. It couldn’t be true. But it was true! She only had to look over the banister to see her Colin, her husband, with another woman in his arms, kissing her with a hunger he had never shown her, to know how true it was. Nausea welled up inside her and she rushed back into the bathroom. The pair downstairs were oblivious to everything but one another and never even heard her.

Did Colin actually intend to make love to her? Kelly wondered sickly when the bitter spasms were over. And Pat, how did she feel about sharing her lover with another woman? How could she herself permit Colin to touch her knowing what she now did?

‘KELLY? Darling, what are you doing up here?’

Kelly stared at Colin, wondering why she expected him to have changed.

He was still exactly as he had been before she discovered the truth; she was the one who had changed. She was no longer the foolish naïve child she had been then. Bitter fury welled up inside her.

‘What do you want, Colin?’ she challenged. ‘My signature to some more papers, is that it?’

She saw the colour drain out of his face.

‘Darling…’ he blustered, ‘I don’t know…’

‘I heard everything,’ Kelly cut in coolly, marvelling at her own control. ‘Everything, and if you think I’d allow you so much as touch me now I…’

‘Why, you sanctimonious little prude!’ Colin snarled, slamming the door and walked towards her. ‘Do you honestly believe I wanted to touch you? No way,’ he told her cruelly. ‘You’ve got nothing that appeals to me, Kelly. You can’t hold a candle to Pat, you’re frigid, or damn near, and…’

‘I do have one thing you want—apparently…’ Kelly interrupted acidly, hoping he wouldn’t guess at the pain that tore at her insides. ‘My money—well, you won’t get a penny of it, Colin. First thing tomorrow I’m having the marriage annulled!’

‘Annulled?’ He advanced to the bed, the cruelty in his eyes frightening her into rigid tension. ‘No way,’ he told her softly. ‘I might not want you, Kelly, but I sure as hell want that money, and there’s no way you’re going to cheat me of it now. So you think you’ll get an annulment, do you?’ He laughed softly in his throat and terror stalked her as he stared down at her, slowly removing his sweater and then his jeans.

She wanted to run, but fear held her rooted to the spot, cowering on the bed, wishing she had the courage to get up and flee. The silk wrap she had put on after her bath was ripped from neck to hem in the degrading scene that followed, pain and fear locking Kelly’s throat against the screams of terror building up there. Colin’s hands bruised her body, just as his callous words had bruised her heart.

‘Frigid bitch!’ he swore at her, when her body clenched protestingly against him, hurt and frightened beyond any possible arousal, and he flung himself off the bed to stare furiously down at her.

‘You’re not a woman, you’re an iceberg,’ he taunted her as he pulled on his jeans. ‘No one could make love to you—they’d freeze first!’

He was gone before she could speak, leaving her dry-eyed, her heart pounding with fear, her body aching with tension and the bruises and scratches Colin had inflicted upon it.

Frigid, frigid, frigid—the word danced jerkily through her mind as she lay there, unable to move, unable to cry, unable to properly comprehend. She heard the door slam as Colin left the house—going where—to Pat, who wasn’t an iceberg, who wouldn’t make him freeze? And then what? Would he come back and carry out his threat? Could she endure it if he did? Rape was an ugly word for an ugly deed, but that was what it would be if Colin consummated their marriage.

She was still lying there in the darkness when she heard the doorbell. She let it peal, until she realised that it wasn’t going to stop. It had to be Colin, and she dressed slowly, hoping he would go away, but he didn’t.

She unlocked the door, noticing that a false dawn was pearling the sky. She must have been lying there half-conscious for several hours, but it had seemed like only minutes since he left.

‘Mrs Langdon?’ She peered up at the policeman standing on the doorstep. ‘May I come in for a second?’

Somehow he had done and he was inside and asking where the kitchen was, saying something about a nice cup of tea. Kelly’s numbed mind couldn’t follow what he was saying, only that he was using a soothing tone, the sort one used on frightened animals—or children. Slowly, what he was saying sank in.

‘Now, come and sit down,’ he said gently, his own manner awkward and compassionate.

‘He wouldn’t have felt a thing,’ he told her. ‘Killed straight off…’ He didn’t add that his sergeant had said—and so he deserved to be, driving like a maniac on the wrong side of the road, with too much drink inside him.

Colin was dead! Why didn’t she feel something? Anything? She couldn’t. All she felt was numb. She watched the young policeman with a curious sense of detachment. He seemed more concerned than her. He drank the tea he had made quickly and asked her if she had any family.

She shook her head and heard herself saying clearly, ‘It’s all right, I shall be perfectly all right. Please don’t worry…’

‘Rum do,’ the constable told the sergeant at the station later. ‘Didn’t so much as turn a hair.’

‘Takes all sorts,’ the sergeant commented, ‘and news like that takes ’em all in different ways. Don’t worry about it too much, lad,’ he comforted the younger man—it was only his second ‘fatal’ and it was always hard to have to be the one to break the news.

ALONE IN THE HUGE Victorian house, Kelly’s own emotion was one of thankfulness. Of relief. Her love for Colin had gone, destroyed by the discovery that he had simply been using her. Her body ached from his cruelty, and her mind felt blunted and bruised. All she wanted to do was sleep. But there was one thing she must never do, and that was that she must never again be foolish enough to allow any man to deceive her as Colin had done. She must remember always that she was rich, that she was undesirable apart from her money and that she must always, always be on her guard. Always…