The Greek's Unwilling Bride Read Online Free PDF Page A

Stratham.
    â€œWe’ll be at the inn soon,” he said. “Why don’t you put your head back and try and get some sleep?”
    â€œI am not tired, Damian, I’m simply saying—”
    â€œI know what you’re saying. You’d have preferred a different car.”
    Gabriella folded her arms. “That’s right.”
    â€œA Cadillac, or a Lincoln, with a chauffeur.”
    â€œYes. Or you could have had Stevens drive us up here. There’s no reason we couldn’t have been comfortable, even though we’re trapped all the way out in the sticks.”
    Damian laughed. “We’re hardly in the ‘sticks’, Gaby. The inn’s just forty miles from Boston.”
    â€œFor goodness’ sakes, must you take me so literally? I know where it is. We spent last night there, didn’t we?” Gabriella crossed her legs again. If the skirt of her black silk dress rode any higher on her thighs, Damian thought idly, it would disappear. “Which reminds me. Since that place doesn’t have room service—”
    â€œIt has room service.”
    â€œThere you go again, taking me literally. It doesn’t have room service, not after ten o’clock at night. Don’t you remember what happened when I tried to order a pot of tea last night?”
    Damian’s hands flexed on the steering wheel. “I remember, Gaby. The manager offered to brew you some tea and bring it up to our suite himself.”
    â€œNonsense. I wanted herbal tea, not that stuff in a bag. And I’ve told you over and over, I don’t like it when you call me Gaby.”
    What the hell is this? Damian thought wearily. He was not married to this woman but anyone listening to them now would think they’d been at each other’s throats for at least a decade of blissful wedlock.
    Not that a little sharp-tongued give-and-take wasn’t sometimes amusing. The woman at Nicholas’s wedding, for instance. Laurel Bennett had infuriated him, at the end, doing her damnedest to make him look foolish in front of Nicholas and all the others, but he had to admit, she was clever and quick.
    â€œâ€˜Gaby’ always makes me think of some stupid character in a bad Western.”
    She was stunning, too. The more he’d seen of her, the more he’d become convinced he’d never seen a more exquisite face. She was a model, Dawn had told him, and he’d always thought models were androgynous things, all bones and no flesh, but Laurel Bennett had been rounded and very definitely feminine. Had that been the real reason he’d asked her to dance, so he could hold that sweetly curved body in his arms and see for himself if she felt as soft as she looked?
    â€œMust you drive so fast? I can barely see where we’re going, it’s so miserably dark outside.”
    Damian’s jaw tightened. He pressed down just a little harder on the gas.
    â€œI like to drive fast,” he said. “And since I’m the one at the wheel, you don’t have to see outside, now do you?”
    He waited for her to respond, but not even Gabriella was that foolish. She sat back instead, arms still folded under her breasts, her head lifted in a way he’d come to know meant she was angry.
    The car filled with silence. Damian was just beginning to relax and enjoy it when she spoke again.
    â€œHonestly,” she said, “you’d think people would use some common sense.”
    Damian shot her a quick look. “Yes,” he said, grimly, “you would.”
    â€œImagine the nerve of that woman.”
    â€œWhat woman?”
    â€œThe one who made that grand entrance. You know, the woman with that mass of dyed red hair.”
    Damian almost laughed. Now, at least, he knew what this was all about.
    â€œWas it dyed?” he asked casually. “I didn’t think so.”
    â€œYou wouldn’t,” Gabriella snapped. “Men never do. You’re all so