The Thorn in His Side Read Free Page A

her own had an almost combustible quality that intensified the breathless feeling she was experiencing, though maybe it was jet lag—I
hope,
Libby thought, the sensible option pleasing her and scaring her less than the alternative.
    She moistened her dry lips with the tip of her tongue and tried again.
    ‘Your head.’
    Following the gesture of her fingers, he lifted a hand. He didn’t wince but Libby did, her stomach performing a sympathetic somersault as he touched the wound.
    He pulled his hand away, glanced with what seemed to her an unnatural degree of disinterest at the red on his fingers before dragging them down the front of his shirt.
    Libby, her eyes trained on the red daub, could not help but notice how well developed the chest beneath was.
    ‘Don’t panic.’ Struggling to follow her own advice, she began punching the emergency numbers into her phone.
    Finger poised above the dial button, she released a shocked gasp as her wrist was captured by long brown fingers. The speed of his action was bewildering but notas bewildering, as the effect the brief contact had on her nervous system.
    Libby was struggling to catch her breath when her hand was placed against her heaving chest before being released from an iron grip.
    ‘I do not require an ambulance.’
    It was not a statement that invited discussion.
    Libby was getting the impression he was not big on discussion. Now orders … oh, yes, she could see him being very comfortable flinging those around. Even after a car smash that would have shaken the toughest customer he retained an arrogant attitude that sent the message he was not someone who was accustomed to having his opinion challenged.
    As for the gleam that shone in the darkly fringed intelligent eyes, it was far too perceptive for her comfort, and the flash of something approaching amusement … it was almost as if he
knew
she was trying very hard not to look at his incredibly sexy mouth.
    Libby pushed away the whimsical thought, aware that it was her guilt talking. He might not be able to read her mind, but he did have eyes that reminded her of some sleek jungle predator.
    ‘What condition is the car in?’
    Libby was startled to see him consult the metal-banded watch on his wrist. It seemed to her that his priorities were seriously skewed.
    ‘I’ve no idea. I was more worried about what condition you were in.’
    A spasm of impatience flickered across his lean face. ‘As you see I am fine—in one piece.’
    Libby had seen enough hospital dramas on TV to know that people who looked fine and in one piece had a habit of collapsing without warning from massiveinternal bleeds. While this was not a soap, she did think his attitude was way too casual.
    The question remained—how to inject some caution without sounding alarmist?
    ‘Where exactly are we?’
    Libby’s face fell. It looked as if her caution had been warranted. ‘Do you remember what happened?’ she asked slowly. Oh, God, what if he had amnesia? ‘Do you remember your name?’
    ‘I am not deaf or, as it happens, stupid.’ The silent addition of
unlike you
was implicit in the withering look he sent her way.
    ‘I know my name.’ He tilted his head towards the window, which offered a view of nothing beyond the grassy bank. ‘It is the name of this place I require in order to arrange alternative transport.’ As luck would have it his PA was making the journey in her own car in order to attend the meeting he was en route to, which was going to minimise the delay considerably.
    ‘Oh!’ Feeling foolish, she lapsed into embarrassed silence as she watched him produce a phone from his pocket.
    ‘There is no signal.’
    At last something she did not have to take responsibility for!
    ‘What do you want me to do about it?’ She softened the cranky response by adding a pacifying note of cautious concern. ‘You might have concussion.’
    She could have mentioned a whole host of other injuries he might have, but, not wanting to spook him,