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

me?”
    â€œNo,” Damian said, lying through his teeth.
    â€œIn that case,” she said, “you won’t mind if I...”
    He caught her arm as she started past him. “Have lunch with me.”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œThe Four Seasons? Or The Water’s Edge ? It’s a beautiful day out, Miss Bennett.”
    â€œIt was,” she said pointedly, “until you showed up.”
    Haskell cleared his throat. “Well, listen,” he said, as he backed away, “long as you two don’t need me here...”
    â€œWait,” Laurel said, “Haskell, you don’t have to...”
    But he was already gone. The sound of his footsteps echoed across the wooden floor. A door slammed, and then
    there was silence.
    â€œWhy must you make this so difficult?” Damian said softly.
    â€œI’m not the one making this difficult,” Laurel said coldly. She looked down at her wrist, still encircled by his hand, and then at him. “Let go of me, please.”
    Damian’s gaze followed hers. Hell, he thought, what was he doing? This wasn’t his style at all. When you came down to it, nothing he’d done since he’d laid eyes on this woman was in character. The way he’d gone after her yesterday, like a bull in rut. And what he’d done moments ago, challenging that photographer like a street corner punk when the man had only been coming to Laurel’s rescue. All he’d been able to think, watching the man’s face, was, Go on, take your best shot at me, so I can beat you to a pulp.
    And that was crazy. He wasn’t a man who settled things with his fists. Not anymore; not in the years since he’d worked his way up from summer jobs on the Brooklyn docks to a Park Avenue penthouse.
    He wasn’t a man who went after a woman with such single-minded determination, either. Why would he, when there were always more women than he could possibly want, ready and waiting to be singled out for his attention?
    That was it. That was what was keeping his interest in the Bennett woman. She was uninterested, or playing at being uninterested, though he didn’t believe it, not after the way she’d kissed him yesterday. Either way, the cure was the same. Bed her, then forget her. Satisfy this most primitive of urges and she’d be out of his system, once and for all.
    But dammit, man, be civilized about it.
    Damian let go of her wrist, took a breath and began again.
    â€œMiss Bennett. Laurel. I know we got off to a poor start—”
    â€œYou’re wrong. We didn’t get off to any start. You’re playing cat-and-mouse games but as far as I’m concerned, we never even met.”
    â€œWell, we can remedy that. Have dinner with me this evening.”
    â€œI’m busy.”
    â€œTomorrow night, then.”
    â€œStill busy. And, before you ask, I’m busy for the foreseeable future.”
    He laughed, and her eyes flashed with indignation.
    â€œDid I say something funny, Mr. Skouras?”
    â€œIt’s Damian. And I was only wondering which of us is pretending what?”
    â€œWhich of us...” Color flew into her face. “My God, what an insufferable ego you must have! Do you think this is a game? That I’m playing hard to get?”
    He leaned back against the edge of the photographer’s worktable, his jacket open and his hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers.
    â€œThe thought crossed my mind, yes.”
    â€œListen here, Mr. Skouras...”
    â€œDamian.”
    â€œMr. Skouras.” Laurel’s eyes narrowed. “Let me put this in words so simple even you’ll understand. One, I do not like you. Two, I do not like you. And three, I am not interested in lunch. Or dinner. Or anything else.”
    â€œToo many men already on the string?”
    God, she itched to slap that smug little smile from his face!
    â€œYes,” she said, “exactly. I’ve got them lined up for