The Greek's Unwilling Bride by Sandra Marton Read Free Book Online

home.”
    â€œThat’s ridiculous, Haskell. You don’t write postcards on a computer.”
    Haskell glared at her. “Frankly, Laurel, I don’t give a flying fig what you’re using that thing for. Maybe you’re writing your memoirs. Or tallying up the millions in your Swiss bank account. Whatever. Just get that imagination working and give us a smile.”
    Laurel sighed. He was right. She was a pro, this was her job, and that was all there was to it. Unfortunately she’d slept badly and awakened in a foul mood. It didn’t help that she felt like a ninny, posing in a bikini in front of a silly backdrop that simulated sea and sky. What did bikinis, sea and sky have to do with selling computers?
    â€œLaurel, for heaven’s sake, I’m losing you again. Concentrate, darling. Think of something pleasant and hang on to it. Where you’re going to have supper tonight, for instance. How you spent your weekend. I know it’s Monday, but there’s got to be something you can imagine that’s a turn-on.”
    Where she was having supper tonight? Laurel almost laughed. At the kitchen counter, that was where, and on the menu was cottage cheese, a green salad and, as a special treat, a new mystery novel with her coffee.
    As for how she’d spent the weekend—if Haskell only knew. That was the last thing he’d want her to think about.
    To think she’d let Damian Skouras humiliate her like that!
    â€œHey, what’s happening? Laurel, babe, you’ve gone from glum to grim in the blink of an eye. Come on, girl. Grab a happy thought and hang on.”
    A happy thought? A right cross, straight to Damian Skouras’s jaw.
    â€œGood!”
    A knee, right where it would do the most good.
    â€œGreat!” Haskell began moving around her, his camera at his eye. “Hold that image, whatever it is, because it’s working.”
    A nice, stiff-armed jab into his solar plexus.
    â€œWonderful stuff, Laurel. That’s my girl!”
    Why hadn’t she done it? Because there’d already been too many eyes on them, that was why. Because if she’d done what she’d wanted to do, she’d have drawn the attention of everyone in the room, to say nothing of ruining Dawn’s day.
    â€œLook up, darling. That’s it. Tilt your head. Good. This time, I want something that smolders. A smile that says your wonderful computer’s what’s made it possible for you to be out here instead of in your office, that in a couple of minutes you’ll leave behind this glorious sun and sea, traipse down to the cabin and tumble into the arms of a gorgeous man.” Haskell leaned toward her, camera whirring. “You do know a gorgeous man, don’t you?”
    Damian Skouras.
    Laurel stiffened. Had she said the words aloud? No, thank goodness. Haskell was still dancing around her, his eye glued to his camera.
    Damian Skouras, gorgeous? Don’t be silly. Men weren’t “gorgeous.”
    But he was. That masculine body. That incredible face, with the features seemingly hewn out of granite. The eyes that were a blue she’d never seen before. And that mouth, looking as if it had been chiseled from a cold slab of marble but instead feeling warm and soft and exciting as it took hers.
    â€œNow you’ve got it!” Haskell’s camera whirred and clicked until the roll of film was done. Then he dumped the camera on his worktable and held out his hand. “Baby, that was great. The look on your face...” He sighed dramatically. “All I can say is, wow!”
    Laurel put the computer on the floor, took Haskell’s hand, rose to her feet and reached for the terry-cloth robe she’d left over the back of a chair.
    â€œAre we finished?”
    â€œWe are, thanks to whatever flashed through your head just now.” Haskell chuckled. “I don’t suppose you’d like to tell me who he was?”
    â€œIt