The Thorn in his Side

by Kim Lawrence

  Libby felt the embarrassed colour rush to her cheeks; to say she felt at a disadvantage would have been putting it mildly. She watched under the screen of her lashes as the tall figure shrugged on the jacket slung across the back of his chair and approached exuding an aura of energy. Feeling utterly drained and flat, she felt exhausted just watching him.

  If exhaustion was the only thing he made her feel she would have felt a lot happier.

  Had he been sitting there watching her? The possibility made her feel vulnerable.

  She covered her mouth, unable to repress the drowsy yawn. ‘What happened?’ It was frustrating not to be able to remember.

  ‘Nothing dramatic. You fell asleep.’

  Libby shook her head. ‘Why would I fall asleep?’

  He raised a brow. ‘A tough one that, but let’s think, shall we? Could it possibly have anything to do with jet lag, no sleep, no food? Or even all three.’ He watched her flush and added as an afterthought, ‘And then a large dose of emotional pyrotechnics.’

  ‘Oh!’

  He arched an ebony brow. ‘Coming back, is it?’

  Libby gave a tight-lipped nod and flung a murderous glare his way for good measure.

  ‘I’m very sorry to have inconvenienced you,’ she began, swinging her legs to the ground. She broke off, catching sight of the bandage on her ankle.

  ‘Before you ask, I put it there. I think I did a good job but I’d get it checked over with your doctor if I were you.’

  ‘You!’

  His stern classical features relaxed into a smile. ‘It was my good deed for the day.’

  Libby reminded herself that under the smile—it made him look years younger—he was still the same ruthless, cold-blooded predator.

  ‘Am I meant to say thank you?’ she enquired, adopting an air of studied disinterest.

  ‘I’d prefer it if you took a deep breath!’ He accompanied the command with a cutting motion of his hand. ‘And tell me slowly and clearly this time why you are here without the histrionics.’

  ‘I’ve already told you and I might just as well have talked to that wall.’ She nodded towards the white wall lined with a row of artistic monochrome photographs that portrayed wild and rugged seascapes. ‘Well, you might not listen but I’m sure there are a lot of people who will.’

  Had she felt so inclined she knew it would not be hard—success and scandal were two things that people liked to read about.

  She had no intention of taking a route that would expose her own family to the glare of public scrutiny but she saw no reason to share this information with him—let him worry.

  Rafael pinned her with a stare that would have made ice cubes look warm.

  ‘A word of advice.’

  Libby got stiffly to her feet and planted her hands on her hips. ‘You know where you can stick your advice, don’t you?’ She doubted anyone she knew would have recognised this rude Libby; she barely recognised herself.

  ‘I can guess.’ The flicker of amusement again, but this time it seemed forced, only momentarily lightening the grim cast of his extraordinarily handsome face.

  But even the suggestion was enough to fuel the flame of her ire, she was being as nasty and abusive as she knew how and he thought it was funny! Short of kick him in the shins—he’d probably kick her back—how did you inflict damage on someone like him?

  ‘I was going to say that if you are going to defame a person’s character make sure there are no witnesses. It makes you extremely vulnerable to legal action.’

  ‘Am I meant to be intimidated?’ Laughing, Libby tilted her head back to direct her defiant glare at his face. ‘I’m only “vulnerable”, as you put it, if what I say is not true, so bring it on!’ she challenged, wagging a finger at him. ‘I’m sure the media would just love the story,’ she observed as she wiped a hand across her gritty eyes. She had to look a total wreck.

  For a split second their eyes connected, glowing gold on swimming blue; suddenly the air between them shimmered with the explosive tension that materialised without warning.

  Libby’s heart rate quickened; in the moment before he turned abruptly away she saw the shock flicker in his amber eyes and knew he was feeling it too.

  Her breath still coming in breathy, uneven gasps, Libby dropped her accusing finger and watched as he walked unhurriedly across to a leather swivel chair set beside his desk. The quiver of appreciation that tightened her stomach muscles as she observed his progress made her deeply ashamed.

  She could deal with his threats; the raw, rampant sexuality he exuded was another matter.

  Libby barely registered the discomfort as the half moons of her pearly fingernails gouged reddened grooves into the flesh of her palms. She dashed a white-knuckled fist across her eyes. It seemed such a massive betrayal to allow herself to notice that he moved with the innate elegance of a feral creature, let alone be fascinated by it or excited by the leashed power suggested in his smallest action.

  Not that it was a matter of allow; allow implied there was some sort of choice and Libby did not have choice. That was the scary part—she had no control whatsoever over her reaction. The realisation filled her with a mixture of shame and alarm as she felt her body react to him.

  Her firm jaw clenched. She hated this happening, and she hated Rafael Alejandro. She struggled to gain some sort of objectivity. This wasn’t about the man, it was about the intense physical magnetism he exuded.

  Sanity and self-respect lay in separating the two … It sounded easy. Who knew she could even feel this way? Who knew that she could look at a man she loathed and think about his hands on her skin, his mouth on her—? Libby shook her head, refusing to complete the thought.

  It seemed a good time to remember that she wasn’t a very highly sexed person, she never had been—imagine how bad this could be if she were!

  She squared her jaw. It was mortifying but it was just something she’d have to endure until this temporary insanity passed or he vanished from her life, whichever came first. She had no doubt at all that both would happen.

  She lowered her lashes in a protective screen as he slipped the button of his beautifully cut grey jacket. Underneath he wore a white shirt with a thin silver stripe running through it. His narrow silk tie was the same shade of silver.

  The man might be a total reptile, but there was no doubt that he had style and no morals, she reminded herself as she dragged her gaze from the suggestion of muscular ripple as he lifted a hand to rub it back and forth across his dark hair, causing short strands to stand up before he smoothed them back with a preoccupied expression.

  What, she wondered, was he preoccupied by—the next person he intended to grind beneath the heel of his handmade leather shoes?

  It was massively frustrating, she decided as she struggled and failed miserably to gauge the expression on his lean face. All she could see mirrored in his eyes was her own reflection looking back at her.

  Libby sighed. Had she really expected to see a flicker of remorse from the heartless bastard—beautiful bastard, she corrected silently as he gracefully folded his long lean length into the chair.

  The taut silence that had built up grew thicker as Rafael Alejandro, who appeared oblivious now to the nerve-shredding tension, stretched his long legs out in front of him and leaned further back, pushing his head into the leather headrest as he rested his chin on the platform of his steepled fingers.

  Rafael’s initial response to her earlier harangue had been outrage—she had offended him on every level—but as she had continued to throw the ludicrous heated accusations at him outrage had receded to be replaced by an equally strong desire to wipe that haughty look of disdain from her face and see it replaced by desire.

  Rafael wanted to see those beautiful eyes shimmer, not with loathing, but with helpless lust; he wanted to see those lips, not tight with condemnation, but soft and tremulous in anticipation of his kiss.

  Rafael did not doubt his ability to bring about these changes, but why would he? Why
should he? She was exactly the sort of high-maintenance female he avoided.

  There were any number of women who were flatteringly grateful for any attention he gave them, women who were only too eager to tell him how marvellous he was.

  Rafael was suddenly filled by a compelling need to hear this spitting red-headed virago tell him how marvellous he was. It was almost as powerful as the desire he felt to feel her soft body beneath him, to hear her soft moan as he parted her lips and plundered all the hot sweetness within.

  Libby felt the slow sweep of his eyes as they journeyed with excruciating slowness up from her toes, she felt it like a burning brand. It took all her will power to stand there and endure the insolent leisurely appraisal.

  It seemed to Libby it just went on and on. Finally unable to maintain her defiant pose, she snapped.

  ‘Are you marking me out of ten?’ The moment the cranky remark left her lips Libby realised she was inviting a massive put-down, and she firmed her slender shoulders in preparation.

  The moments stretched and as no put-down was forthcoming she watched warily as his dark lashes lifted, exposing the dark bands of colour along the angles of his high cheekbones. The impact the molten heat burning in his stare had on her drew a gasp from low in her throat and made her stomach muscles clench viciously.

  ‘Fishing …?’

  Libby blinked to clear the buzzing in her head. ‘A compliment from you?’ She made a sound of scorn and curled her lip.

  Head tipped a little to one side, he studied her flushed furious face before concluding, ‘The sneer could do with some work, but the self-righteous diatribe, now that,’ he admitted, shaking his head slowly from side to side in an attitude of mock admiration, ‘I was impressed and I am not easily impressed.’

  ‘I can die a happy woman.’ And if her heart rate didn’t slow, Libby thought, clamping a hand to her chest, that might be sooner than later!

  ‘I particularly like the way you managed to ignore inconvenient things like facts.’

  ‘One fact,’ she bit out fiercely.

  Rafael’s laconic drawl cut across her retort. ‘Yeah, I know, querida, I am the devil’s spawn.’ He gave a grin that was dangerously close to the role he cast himself. ‘And responsible,’ he continued, expanding on the mocking theme, ‘for everything from global warming to the national debt situation.’

  ‘Responsible,’ she corrected grimly, ‘for the destruction of my family.’

  His brows lifted at the dramatic pronouncement. ‘You do not look very destroyed to me.’ His eyes drifted to her mouth. ‘A bit shaky on your feet.’ The indent between his dark brows deepened as Rafael noted the almost transparent pallor of her skin, a pallor that emphasised the violet smudges beneath her eyes.

  Her vulnerability shone clear through the bolshy pose. Hate and pride were the only things that had got this woman back on her feet, Rafael realised as he fought off a strong and totally uncharacteristic urge to pull her into his arms.

  Rafael had learned, admittedly not quickly enough to save himself from a couple of beatings and being left literally penniless, to subdue his compassionate instincts. Falling for a sob story and a sad face, even a pretty one, was not a good survival instinct for a teenager fending for himself.

  Instead of opening his arms Rafael pulled out a chair. It was far safer and he was no longer a boy with chivalrous ideals intact.

  Libby, even though her knees were shaking, ignored the unspoken invitation with a sniff.

  ‘Would you like a drink? Tea? Coffee?’

  Libby swallowed the knot of emotion lodged like a boulder in her aching throat, her jaw tightening as she silently vowed not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

  ‘I did not come here for a cup of tea.’

  ‘So why did you come?’

  Libby blinked and thought, Good question. ‘We’ve already covered that and the really tragic thing is you still don’t have a clue.’ She shook her head slowly from side to side in an attitude of weary disbelief.

  ‘Have you ever cared about anyone but yourself? You haven’t even got the guts to admit when you’re in the wrong,’ she charged in disgust. ‘You’re completely …’ She stopped and thought, What’s the point?

  His brows lifted. ‘Completely what?’

  ‘Forget it.’

  ‘It’s a bit late to worry about my feelings. Say what you think, don’t hold back, querida,’ he drawled.

  His mockery sent a fresh rush of re-energising adrenaline through Libby’s body. ‘I’m not worried about your feelings!’ It was news to her that he had any. ‘Fine!’ He wanted to know, she’d tell him. ‘I think you’d do anything including sell your own grandmother to make a profit, you don’t care who you hurt getting what you want, wouldn’t know a scruple if it bit you and … and … and …’ suddenly intensely weary, she felt her anger drain away, leaving her feeling flat and utterly exhausted ‘… and don’t call me that!’ she finished lamely.

  He raised a sardonic brow and got to his feet in one lazy fluid motion. Libby took an involuntary step backwards, sucking in a shocked little breath.

  Rafael’s glance slid to the blue-veined pulse throbbing at the base of her throat. In his mind he was running his tongue across the skin there, tasting the salt, tasting her … He blinked to clear the distracting image, unable to recall when he had been so totally consumed by hunger for a woman.

  He refused to over-analyse. It was no mystery, just sex. And sex had never been a problem for him. It was relationships that Rafael ran shy of, at first because they required time and energy he had needed to focus to succeed, and later when he had established himself he realised that a life with no emotional encumbrances, no emotional dramas, suited him.

  He had lived pretty much all his life out of a suitcase, rarely staying in one place more than a few months, never long enough to put down roots or form close friendships, and domesticity held very little charm for him.

  He was always upfront with women, never pretended he wanted more than a physical relationship. Rafael had become an expert at reading the signs, knowing when a woman felt she was the one.

  Her reaction appeared to amuse him. ‘I don’t bite, querida.’ His sensuous lips tugged upwards into a lazy smile that sent Libby’s stomach into a lurching dive. ‘Unless of course requested.’

  Libby shivered even though the purring addition had sent her core temperature up several degrees. She wanted to respond to the voice in her head that was shrieking, ‘Run,’ but pride wouldn’t allow her to.

  Libby, eyes narrowed, took a step forward to regain the ground lost by her retreat both literally and figuratively, determined to show that she wasn’t intimidated by him in any way.

  A gleam flashed amusement and his grin deepened as he murmured approvingly, ‘Good girl.’ She might be a spoilt little rich girl, but if Marchant had as much guts and loyalty as his daughter the situation might have turned out very differently.

  ‘Your approval—my life is complete,’ she said sarcastically.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ‘THAT’S going a bit far, but I do think you have … potential. And I really don’t think you want to get into the game of assigning guilt because if you did the subject of your father’s loose grasp of the most basic rules of business arise.’

  Rafael’s scorn stung Libby. ‘My father is twice the man you will ever be!’

  He appeared unperturbed by the charge. ‘Possibly,’ he conceded.

  ‘And it’s not Dad’s fault, a lot of businesses are suffering, it’s the economic downturn, he just needed time—’

  ‘To do what? Play another round of golf?’

  Libby reacted angrily to the scorn in his voice. ‘My father blames himself for what has happened. He feels responsible for the people who are losing their jobs.’

  ‘He is right to blame himself,’ Rafael, who had studied the numbers, retorted.

  Libby responded with protective anger. ‘If my father is such a loser why did your grandfather have fai
th in him?’

  ‘I am sure he had his reasons.’

  The contempt etched into his face made her see red. ‘None that you’d understand,’ she flung back. ‘Your grandfather was a decent man. It’s a pity you didn’t inherit some of his integrity.’

  During the short static silence that followed her outburst Libby watched the muscle in his lean cheek clenching. She could actually not take her eyes off it—or him.

  His expression was like stone as he turned and began to walk over to the big antique desk that dominated the room.

  Libby watched him warily, mystified as much about the suppressed emotions he was emanating as his actions. Her bewilderment deepened as he took a key from his pocket and, without a word, fitted it to a drawer in the desk.

  His dark lashes lay across the sharp angle of his jutting cheekbones, effectively screening his expression from her curious gaze. Frustrated, Libby watched as he appeared to scan the top sheet of the sheaf of papers he extracted from the drawer. She started slightly as he turned on his heel and began to walk back across the room towards her with them in his hand.

  There was a pronounced sneer of distaste stamped on his lean patrician features as Rafael dropped the papers in her lap. ‘This is my grandfather’s integrity,’ he drawled. ‘Go on, take a look,’ he urged. ‘I think you will find it educational.’

  Libby stared at the papers. ‘I don’t understand.’ Her face lifted to his. ‘What are they?’

  ‘It is a contract between my grandfather and a development company.’

  She gave a bewildered shrug. ‘What has that got to do with me?’

  Rafael leaned across and, turning to the second typed page, he stabbed his forefinger on the relevant word. ‘Does that look familiar?’ he asked, lifting his hand away.

  Pushing the damp curls from her face with one hand, she looked down at the passage he had pointed to. ‘Is all this mystery stuff really necessary?’ She picked up the papers and waved them at him. ‘Why can’t you just say what is so …?’