Read Online Sophie and the Scorching Sicilian by Kim Lawrence - Free Book Online

objectively considering each possibility made Marco suspect the former was true.
    â€˜I want someone to work on it who is capable of…’ He paused and thought, Capable of reminding me how I once felt. His eyes slid from her face and he said abruptly, ‘I am a Sicilian.’
    As if that said it all. ‘I’m not.’
    Marco’s glance drifted to her mouth and he felt things shift inside him. ‘You spoke very eloquently, with passion.’
    â€˜That wasn’t passion, that was desperation.’
    A flicker of irritation crossed his lean face but some of the tension left his shoulders. ‘This constant self-deprecation can get wearing.’ However, looking at her mouth did not.
    Sophie opened her mouth to retort and closed it again, not because she’d just remembered he was the client and the client was always right, but because he was right.
    It had started as a protective mechanism—get in there before someone else did. Endless casual comments, not normally intended to wound, about her figure, her hair, her lack of small talk…The list was endless and they did hurt, so it was now almost a reflex to pull herself down before anyone else got the chance.
    It was ironic that the person to open her eyes was a total stranger—and this total stranger.
    Aiming somewhere midway between pushy and motivated she gave him a direct look. ‘You’re serious.’
    He gave the appearance of considering the question. ‘Those are my conditions.’
    â€˜Even if I could, Amber would never agree. You’ve probably already noticed I’m not a front-of-shop person.’ Her sweeping gesture took in her creased outfit. ‘I source materials and deal with orders and make sure that… In short, I make lists,’ Sophie explained, frowning at the somewhat lame job description she had produced. ‘I’m very good at lists.’
    â€˜You mean you do the work and let others take the credit.’ His expression did not suggest he found such a self-sacrificing mentality admirable, and his scorn stung.
    Easy for him, she thought. He walked into a room and everything about him screamed dominant male; he didn’t have a clue what it felt like to be invisible among her dazzling siblings. As much as she loved them, they were overwhelming.
    She felt her resentment rise as she studied his chiselled patrician features. Marco Speranza didn’t have the faintest idea what it felt like to blend into the background, and anyway it wasn’t even true—she wasn’t a doormat!
    Her indignation was mixed with unease—was that really the impression she gave?
    â€˜Just because I don’t need to be the centre of attention doesn’t make me a total doormat.’
    Encountering the hostile glitter in her blue eyes Marco smiled.
    â€˜What’s so funny?’ she asked between clenched teeth as she endured his searching stare.
    â€˜Not a doormat…afraid.’ He taunted. He watched her chin go up and smiled. Getting the best out of people in his experience was about providing the correct motivation and knowing which buttons to push.
    Sophie avoided arguments and confrontations—she disliked raised voices—but she suddenly realised that there were occasions when a person had to stand up and be counted…or explode!
    Her hands balled into fists at her sides.
    Dear God, the man was a total stranger and he was acting as if he knew her. First her father, and then this man, telling her what was wrong with her—well, she was sick of it! She was so mad she could hardly see straight as she fixed him with a glittering blue scowl.
    â€˜I’m not afraid!’ she yelled. ‘Not all of us need to have people telling us how marvellous we are every two seconds. I don’t need my ego stroked to make me feel good about myself, unlike some people.’
    A look of utter amazement crossed Marco’s face; he had obviously pressed more