The Thorn in his Side Read online

  ‘What were you trying to do? Attract my attention? Or is this some local quaint mating ritual?’

  Bite me, Libby thought as her initial relief morphed into indignation. Struggling to retain a suitably meek demeanour in the face of this barrage of insults, she mumbled an apology.

  ‘I really didn’t mean for this to happen …’

  Any attempt to defend herself at this point would only sound lame.

  What am I going to tell Chloe?

  She began making a silent inventory of her achievements—almost killing a man, smashing up his car and losing her friend’s beloved pet, difficult to top, but the way things were going, she thought glumly—who knew?

  ‘I’m so … so sorry,’ she said with genuine remorse.

  ‘Oh, that’s all right, then.’

  Libby felt her cheeks warm with embarrassment in response to the sarcastic drawl as her victim, one hand still clamped to his forehead, turned, head bent forward, and presented her with a view of his broad shoulders and the back of his glossy dark head as he switched his attention to the clasp on his seat belt.

  Her glance flickered from the dark hair curling at his nape to the bloody smear on the glass. It was a timely reminder of her role as evil perpetrator while he was the innocent victim.

  With a mumbled imprecation she reached for her phone. ‘Ambulance … I’ll make the call.’ Better late than never, Libby.

  As she began to speak the man’s seat belt freed and he turned. Libby’s attempt at a soothing smile dissolved as her lips parted to emit a small mewling gasp of shock, not because the man was injured—she had been prepared for that—but because he was … He was beautiful!

  From the extravagant sweep of his preposterously long eyelashes to his chiselled cheekbones, imperious nose and wide sensually sculpted lips, he was utterly and lethally gorgeous, but it was the aura of concentrated raw sexuality he exuded that made her stare at him helplessly. Physical awareness clutched like a fist low in her belly and trickled down her spine, making her shiver repeatedly in response to his in-your-face masculine sexuality.

  She was so stunned that it took her several moments before she finally registered the cut oozing blood on his broad forehead, a cut that ran from above his right eyebrow and vanished into his dark hairline, and the suggestion of pallor beneath the surface of his even-toned golden skin.

  Get a grip, Libby, you’ve seen good-looking men before—but none this good-looking, said the voice in her head and she could not disagree. He was incredible!

  And hurt, a timely reminder. She bit her lip, lowered her gaze and gave a guilty grimace. The forgotten first-aid course had definitely not included drooling while the accident victim bled to death!

  ‘I think …’ Libby’s voice trailed away. She lost her chain of thought completely as the injured man stared back at her from unblinking tawny cinnamon-coloured eyes set beneath heavy eyelids framed by those long curling lashes that were as dark as his strongly defined ebony brows.

  The gleam in his dark eyes as they held her own had an almost combustible quality that intensified the breathless feeling she was experiencing, though maybe it was jet lag—I hope, Libby thought, the sensible option pleasing her and scaring her less than the alternative.

  She moistened her dry lips with the tip of her tongue and tried again.

  ‘Your head.’

  Following the gesture of her fingers, he lifted a hand. He didn’t wince but Libby did, her stomach performing a sympathetic somersault as he touched the wound.

  He pulled his hand away, glanced with what seemed to her an unnatural degree of disinterest at the red on his fingers before dragging them down the front of his shirt.

  Libby, her eyes trained on the red daub, could not help but notice how well developed the chest beneath was.

  ‘Don’t panic.’ Struggling to follow her own advice, she began punching the emergency numbers into her phone.

  Finger poised above the dial button, she released a shocked gasp as her wrist was captured by long brown fingers. The speed of his action was bewildering but not as bewildering, as the effect the brief contact had on her nervous system.

  Libby was struggling to catch her breath when her hand was placed against her heaving chest before being released from an iron grip.

  ‘I do not require an ambulance.’

  It was not a statement that invited discussion.

  Libby was getting the impression he was not big on discussion. Now orders … oh, yes, she could see him being very comfortable flinging those around. Even after a car smash that would have shaken the toughest customer he retained an arrogant attitude that sent the message he was not someone who was accustomed to having his opinion challenged.

  As for the gleam that shone in the darkly fringed intelligent eyes, it was far too perceptive for her comfort, and the flash of something approaching amusement … it was almost as if he knew she was trying very hard not to look at his incredibly sexy mouth.

  Libby pushed away the whimsical thought, aware that it was her guilt talking. He might not be able to read her mind, but he did have eyes that reminded her of some sleek jungle predator.

  ‘What condition is the car in?’

  Libby was startled to see him consult the metal-banded watch on his wrist. It seemed to her that his priorities were seriously skewed.

  ‘I’ve no idea. I was more worried about what condition you were in.’

  A spasm of impatience flickered across his lean face. ‘As you see I am fine—in one piece.’

  Libby had seen enough hospital dramas on TV to know that people who looked fine and in one piece had a habit of collapsing without warning from massive internal bleeds. While this was not a soap, she did think his attitude was way too casual.

  The question remained—how to inject some caution without sounding alarmist?

  ‘Where exactly are we?’

  Libby’s face fell. It looked as if her caution had been warranted. ‘Do you remember what happened?’ she asked slowly. Oh, God, what if he had amnesia? ‘Do you remember your name?’

  ‘I am not deaf or, as it happens, stupid.’ The silent addition of unlike you was implicit in the withering look he sent her way.

  ‘I know my name.’ He tilted his head towards the window, which offered a view of nothing beyond the grassy bank. ‘It is the name of this place I require in order to arrange alternative transport.’ As luck would have it his PA was making the journey in her own car in order to attend the meeting he was en route to, which was going to minimise the delay considerably.

  ‘Oh!’ Feeling foolish, she lapsed into embarrassed silence as she watched him produce a phone from his pocket.

  ‘There is no signal.’

  At last something she did not have to take responsibility for!

  ‘What do you want me to do about it?’ She softened the cranky response by adding a pacifying note of cautious concern. ‘You might have concussion.’

  She could have mentioned a whole host of other injuries he might have, but, not wanting to spook him, refrained—not that he gave the impression of someone who might take fright at the thought of the odd broken bone or two.

  Personally Libby, who had never linked laughing in the face of danger with virility, had never been able to understand why so many women were attracted to the action-man macho type.

  A bit too much protesting, Libby?

  ‘Concussion …?’ He silently conceded the possibility before adding carelessly, ‘It would not be the first time.’

  ‘That could explain a lot,’ Libby muttered.

  On receipt of his narrow-eyed stare, she added with innocent concern, ‘I really think you should try not to move.’

  The redhead had an abrasive tongue to go with that truly delicious mouth. The irritation Rafael did not attempt to hide was in part aimed at his own inability to think past the sexual hunger still coursing through his body.

  As well as the wisdom of avoiding redheads, experience had taught Rafael that a man survive
d in life by controlling his appetites, not being controlled by them.

  ‘As I have said, I do not require medical attention.’

  ‘It’s your funeral.’ Immediately wishing she could retract the childish retort, she began to ease herself backwards; she was finding the confines of the car were increasingly claustrophobic.

  ‘I can see you find the thought appealing.’

  Libby flushed and protested, ‘Of course not!’ If she didn’t get some air soon she’d be the one needing an ambulance. ‘I’m trying to help.’ Pointless, as he obviously never listened to anyone, she brooded darkly as she continued to edge towards the door.

  ‘I’d feel a hell of a lot safer if you didn’t.’

  ‘I’ve said I’m sorry, and I am, but under the circumstances I think—damn!’ Libby slung an exasperated glance at her skirt, which appeared to have caught itself firmly on the gear lever. ‘Stupid thing.’ She was forced to lean in closer to try and free the tightly stretched fabric.

  ‘Let me—’

  His fingers, long, brown and tapering, brushed hers and Libby pulled her hand away as if burnt. She sucked in a deep breath and thought, Massive overreaction, Libby.

  She could feel his gaze but did not lift her head as she mumbled, ‘I can manage.’

  The frisson had passed but it had left her uncomfortably conscious of her own skin to the point where she could feel the individual hairs on the nape of her neck.

  ‘We should—’ she gave a heavy sigh of relief when her skirt came free ‘—play it safe.’

  Rafael ran a hand across the stubble on his chin. ‘We?’ he echoed, his attention drawn to the exposed nape of her neck. Rafael had never previously considered this part of a woman’s anatomy sexually attractive.

  ‘Good point,’ she conceded with a cool smile that had earned her the name of ice maiden in her teens. ‘However, you’re the one bleeding.’ And I’m the one who is getting a bad headache, she thought, conscious of the telltale pressure behind her eyes.

  ‘You’re tough, I get it, a regular man of steel and I’m impressed, believe me,’ she continued, delivering a smile of brilliant insincerity. ‘But watching someone bleed to death is not my style. Even someone as …’ Libby registered the flash of stunned disbelief in his eyes and brought her tirade to an abrupt halt.

  ‘Someone as?’

  Libby shook her head, then gave a fractured gasp when without warning he reached out and casually took her chin between the long fingers of his right hand.

  She was too startled by his action to resist as he tilted her face up to his. He was so close that she could see the gold tips on his sooty lashes and feel his warm breath on her face.

  He moved a thumb in a lazy circular motion along the curve of her cheek and Libby’s stomach went into dramatic free fall as every nerve ending in her body began to thrum.

  Ignoring the small whisper of sanity in his head, he took her face between his hands and watched the brilliant blue of her sapphire eyes vanish as her pupils dilated rapidly.

  He groaned something harsh on his own tongue as his eyes dropped to her lips.

  ‘You’re in pain!’

  ‘How right you are.’

  Libby struggled to fight her way out of the strange lethargy that crept over her; her limbs felt as though they didn’t belong to her. ‘Let me get help.’ She started to pull away.

  ‘You have a beautiful mouth.’

  Libby stopped pulling as she thought, So do you.

  He frowned suddenly. ‘What is your name?’

  Libby’s throat was so dry her voice was barely above a whisper, barely audible above the pulsating thud of her heart as it tried to climb its way out of her chest. ‘Libby.’

  She’d read somewhere that head injuries could make people act totally out of character—so what’s your excuse, Libby?

  ‘Libby?’ He rolled the word around his tongue experimentally.

  She nodded, hardly recognising her name when he said it, but finally placing his accent as Spanish.

  ‘Look, this is silly—’

  His mouth lowered, close but not quite touching, a whisper above her trembling lips.

  What the hell are you doing, Rafael?

  Rafael would have responded to the last-minute reassertion of sanity had she not at that exact moment given a choky little gasp and pressed her warm lips up against his.

  A split second later with a scared little gasp she pulled back, but the damage was done.

  Shame burned her cheeks as she met his eyes. ‘That was so—’

  ‘Not bad,’ he inserted in a low sexy growl that did further serious damage to her already demolished nervous system. ‘But I think we can do better.’

  And he did.

  His lips moved with slow sensuous skill across the trembling curve of her mouth; she heard herself whimper as he ran his tongue along the sensitive inner flesh of her lower lip and tugged the flesh gently between his teeth.

  Libby, who had not moved a muscle, pulled back with a horrified gasp, breaking the connection before proceeding to fall out of the car in her haste to escape.

  CHAPTER THREE

  LIBBY stood there, hand pressed to her mouth as the horror of what she had just done hit home with the force of a hurricane.

  This was one thing she could not blame on jet lag; she had lost control—sexually, with a stranger, a man whose name she didn’t even know.

  Mortified colour ebbed and flowed in her cheek. What had possessed her?

  The answer to her question was getting out of what remained of the top-of-the-range sleek powerful car, his body language not suggestive of someone who had just survived a car smash or, for that matter, someone who had just kissed her passionately.

  He looked … A soundless sigh escaped through her clenched teeth.

  Shameful memories flashed through her mind. For a breathless moment she could actually feel the texture of his lips, the taste of his hot mouth. Libby clenched her teeth, struggling to purge the image of his smouldering sexy eyes. She succeeded in pushing them away, but not before the hot core low in her pelvis had tightened to a hard fist of desire.

  Knowing what she was feeling was shallow and only physical did not make the experience easier to cope with.

  Her knees were shaking as, breath coming in a series of painful gasps, she watched covetously from under the sweep of her lashes as he stepped out onto the grass and stretched the kinks from his spine. The gorgeously cut suit was special and so was the tall Spaniard, and she wasn’t just making excuses—he really was!

  She swallowed. In the cramped confines of the car it had been obvious he was a powerfully built man, but until now she hadn’t realised how dauntingly impressive his physique was.

  Several inches over six feet, he had an athlete’s body, greyhound lean and muscular, the width of his shoulders balanced by long legs—very long legs and narrow snaky hips.

  As she continued to stare he walked around the car, inspecting the damage that would have made many men weep or at the very least swear, with an inscrutable expression on his lean patrician features. Libby felt her stomach flip.

  She had never imagined that the way a man moved, even if it was with the grace and arrogance of a panther, would make her feel breathless.

  Her unwilling appreciation gave way to indignation as he began to hit the keys on his phone. He hadn’t even glanced her way!

  She was shaking all over and he was acting as though nothing had happened, which on one level was good because the last thing she wanted right now was a postmortem. She wanted to walk away, or possibly run, and forget it ever happened.

  On the other level it had happened—he’d kissed her. Admittedly it wasn’t a marriage proposal, but to act as though nothing had happened … well, it was just bad manners.

  And she hated bad manners. It wasn’t as if he’d turned her world upside down or anything dramatic and she’d stop shaking some time soon, but a show of penitence or even a thank you would have been something.


  ‘What is the name of this place …?’ he asked without looking up.

  Libby glared with dislike at the top of his dark head. She could play it cool too. ‘So you have a signal now?’

  He deigned to notice her. ‘Yes.’ He angled an interrogative brow.

  ‘Buckford,’ Libby snapped.

  ‘Buckford …?’ Rafael repeated, wondering as he punched in the name why the name of a village in the middle of nowhere should sound vaguely familiar.

  He returned to his text and Libby watched him, her temper rising. Jaw tight, she stomped up the hill.

  Within seconds of sending the message Rafael received a text back from Gretchen, who assured him she would be with him in less than ten minutes. Satisfied with the response, he glanced up in time to see the redhead, whose progress up the muddy bank he’d been aware of in the periphery of his vision, bend over to slide one foot and then the other into a pair of heels.

  The fresh air had cleared the remnants of haziness from his head and, sanity restored, Rafael was already regretting his impulsive actions. Struggling to control his temper, he recognised that his irritability was in part due to nothing more complicated than sexual frustration.

  Regret or not, watching her shapely rear as she climbed the incline sent a stab of lust through his loins.

  On the road above Libby stamped her feet, grimacing as her damp, muddy toes squelched inside her lovely new shoes. Anchoring her hair back from her face with one hand, she straightened up.

  Even before she turned she knew he was watching her; she could feel his silent stare.

  ‘What happened, that was unacceptable, even if you have got concussion,’ she informed him icily.

  ‘I do not have concussion.’ Just an extremely bad headache, but nothing a couple of aspirin would not cure. ‘Though I am confused.’

  A small choking sound left Libby’s throat … He’s confused.

  ‘Are you implying that a man would need to have a head injury before he wants to kiss you?’

  Thrown off her stride by the insert, Libby glared wrathfully at him. ‘No, of course not. For your information a lot of men want to kiss me.’