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Authors: Kim Lawrence
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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 fingerat 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 gainsome 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
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 fingerat 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 gainsome 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
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