Free The Thorn in His Side by Kim Lawrence

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 shesilently 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