The Thorn in His Side. Kim Lawrence

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      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.’

      His lips quivered. ‘Of this I am sure.’

      ‘If you do that again I’ll … I’ll … you’ll be sorry!’ Libby’s hauteur suffered a wobble as she struggled against the impulse to turn and run as he began to stride up the steep incline, his progress a lot more sure-footed than her own had been.

      He stepped onto the road and Libby immediately lost what height advantage geography had given her. He towered over her, forcing her to tilt her head to look him in the face. Size might not be everything but at that moment she would not have minded an extra inch or two.

      ‘You kissed me,’ she charged, addressing her accusation to his chest.

      ‘Only after you kissed me.’

      The provocation brought her indignant gaze zeroing in on his face. Libby thought longingly about wiping that smug smirk off his face. ‘I’d had a shock. I thought you were dead.’ As excuses went it was pathetic, but it was all she had.

      ‘So that was the kiss of life?’ he said, sounding interested.

      Libby, who could not think of a smart comeback and suspected that even if she had he would have come up with an even smarter one, shook her head.

      ‘I think we should forget it,’ she decided magnanimously.

      Libby intended to, though the incident had all the ingredients of a nightmare—the sort where you found yourself in the supermarket in your underwear, and not the good stuff.

      ‘As you wish, though I’m insulted my kisses are so forgettable. Still, I’m a firm believer in the old adage practice makes perfect.’

      Her eyes narrowed. Any more perfect and she’d have passed out. ‘So long as it’s not with me you can practise as much as you like.’

      ‘Relax, I only have sex with sane women.’ Not for three months, he realized. This went a long way to explaining his uncharacteristically impulsive behaviour.

      He had appetites, sure, but he exerted control and, he liked to think, discrimination. The last thing he wanted was to find himself involved with some needy attention seeking bunny boiler who wanted to understand him.

      Luckily there were plenty of women who shared his pragmatic attitude to sex and did not need the façade of a loving relationship to enable them to enjoy sex.

      Libby tilted her head back to angle a menacing frown at him. ‘And you’re saying I’m not?’

      ‘You walked out in front of my car. If that doesn’t qualify as insane I don’t know what does.’

      His eyes darkened at the memory of that moment when he had thought he was going to hit her. ‘What did you think you were doing? I can’t decide if you are a lunatic or just suicidal.’

      The fact she fully deserved the reprimand and his anger did not make it easier to stand there meekly and take it.

      ‘I didn’t jump out, well, I did, but only because you were about to run over the dog and, anyway, if you hadn’t been driving like an idiot this wouldn’t have happened.’

      He raised an eloquent brow. ‘So this was my fault.’

      Libby felt the guilty heat rush to her cheeks. ‘Not totally,’ she admitted reluctantly.

      ‘And as for a dog …’ he made a show of looking around СКАЧАТЬ