The Thorn in His Side

She had died alone in a remote village that did not even have clean water, let alone a doctor, and Rafael had not been able to afford a headstone.

He had been fifteen at the time and it had taken him two years to return with a headstone. The village now had clean running water and last year he had laid the foundation stone of a clinic.

‘But that doesn’t stop you being an expert,’ Libby drawled. ‘Why aren’t I surprised? For your information Eustace was badly abused. He needs TLC, not bullying and he—’ Just warming to her theme, Libby suddenly stopped as the tension he was vibrating reached her. She tilted her head back to look at his face.

‘Are you all right?’

She was confused as much by her reaction to the shocking desolation she had glimpsed in his heavy-lidded eyes as by the cause of it, and her questioning gaze went to a possible source: his head wound.

‘Your head?’ Not that physical pain would explain the awful anguish she had glimpsed in his eyes.

Rafael looked into her wide eyes, blue as a summer sky and warm with concern, and fought the illogical impulse to lash out, punish her for seeing more than she was meant to.

‘My head is fine,’ he said, taking a step forward while mentally taking several backwards, pushing away the dark memories and focusing instead on the pleasant present and the more than pleasant tantalising glimpse of cleavage revealed as he stared down the neck of her loose necked sweater.

‘So you understand about animals.’

Catching the direction of his bold stare, Libby felt her breasts tingle. And for a moment there she had been in danger of imagining he had some depth! She gave a disgusted snort and swung away. The fact her body continued to react without her consent increased her self-disgust.

‘Let’s put it this way—I find them infinitely preferable to men,’ she gritted, feeling impelled to add, ‘Some men.’ She pretended not to hear his husky laugh. ‘So if you don’t mind.’ She turned back to him and mimed a zipping motion across her lips.

After a startled moment Rafael grinned and inclined his dark head. ‘Be my guest.’

Libby, aware of her silent critic, continued her attempt to coax Eustace to her until her patience snapped. She rose to her feet, muttering under her breath as she dragged a swathe of hair back from her face before directing a frustrated glare his way.

‘Fine, if you’re so clever …?’ she snapped, irrationally hoping he was equally unsuccessful.

Of course he wasn’t.

He stepped forward, said a couple of authoritative-sounding words in his own language, and the dog—suddenly he could speak Spanish—trotted forward meekly looking sheepish.

Libby gritted her teeth and thought, Traitor, as after another word the dog sat down at his feet, wagging his tail while he gazed adoringly up at the man who condescended to pat his head and murmur a word of praise before bending to gather the lead from the ground.

Libby’s chest swelled with indignation, making her even more uncomfortably conscious of the fabric chafing against her nipples. It was a conspiracy, she brooded darkly, first betrayed by her own body and now the dog.

Libby took the lead silently proffered her and viewed him through narrowed eyes. ‘If I took you home my family would probably want to adopt you.’ She drew the dog towards her, patting his head.

‘Would that not make me your brother?’ he taunted.

‘I already have a brother, and I’m sure you have your own family.’ And maybe a wife?

The possibility filled her with horror. Had she kissed not just a stranger, but a married stranger? Checking out his left hand, she was relieved to see no wedding band.

Rafael shook his head. ‘No, my mother died some years ago. There is no one else of note.’

‘That is so sad!’ Libby exclaimed.

CHAPTER FOUR

‘SAD?’ Rafael raised a brow and watched the glow of sympathy fade from her blue eyes as he added cynically, ‘From what I see of families I am not envious. Down,’ he added in a stern aside as the dog, whimpering, rubbed against his leg.

The dog immediately rolled onto his back submissively.

‘Eustace!’ Exasperated, Libby tugged the dog back towards her. ‘You really are an idiot!’

‘I have been called worse.’

‘Not you …’ Libby saw the mocking glint in his deep-set eyes and, fighting a grin, added gruffly, ‘Well, you are, but on this occasion I was talking to the dog.’

Rafael’s mouth twisted into a sardonic smile that faded as a car came round the corner.

Libby, aware that she had lost his attention, turned in the direction of his gaze and saw a bright red classic sports car driven with the top down heading towards them at a sedate pace.

The driver waved when she spotted them and slowed.

Rafael did not wave, but it seemed a safe bet to Libby that the woman who parked the car and leapt gracefully from the vehicle was not a stranger.

Libby watched the woman’s progress, envying the voluptuous figure, the length of her legs and her ability to make skin-tight jeans look good. From a distance she looked fantastic, depressingly close to she looked even more perfect.

Libby watched the woman’s fashionable twenties bob swinging in a silky bell around her face and envied the sleekness of a style she could never achieve with her own naturally curly hair.

‘Ra—Oh, God, blood!’ exclaimed the blonde, clapping a hand to her mouth. ‘I feel sick.’

So did Libby. What sort of man kissed another woman while his girlfriend was on her way to rescue him?

‘Kindly endeavour not to be sick.’

She had her answer: the sort of man who spoke to his girlfriend like that, Libby thought, wondering why the woman not only took the harsh advice in her stride, but appeared grateful!

‘Sorry I’m late. I got stuck behind a tractor. Do you think it will scar?’ she wondered, her eyes trained with sick fascination on his injured face. ‘Have you cleaned it? There could be dirt.’

Sensing that his PA was about to go into full OCD mode, Rafael pitched his reply in a tone aimed at defusing the situation before it got out of hand.

When she had a handle on her compulsive behaviour Gretchen was the best PA he had ever had, but when she lost it things could get … interesting. Like the time the cleaning supervisor had rung him at midnight saying he might want to know that his assistant was still there switching the light on and off, unable to leave the room.

In retrospect he could see that the clues that should have alerted him to her condition had been there, he just hadn’t noticed. This did not make Rafael feel good about himself. He expected those who worked for him to go the extra mile and what he expected he should also be prepared to give. One of the first lessons Rafael had learnt was that loyalty was a two-way street.

He had refused to accept her tearfully offered resignation, pointing out that it made no sense to lose the best PA he had ever had just because she felt the need to spend an hour washing her hands.

Instead he had acquired the name of a clinical psychologist who came highly recommended and insisted that she undertake therapy sessions. It had been a good call—they had proved dramatically successful but, as Gretchen said herself, she was a work in progress.

‘The wound has been cleaned,’ Rafael said, pre-empting the production of the cleaning products he knew would be in her car.

Libby opened her mouth to indignantly refute this and found herself on the receiving end of a killer look. She gave as good as she got glarewise and lapsed into tight-lipped silence.

‘And you are not late.’

Gretchen shook her head and glanced fretfully at her watch. ‘I said ten minutes and it’s—’