Mistletoe Mistress

CHAPTER FIVE

The combination of a glass of brandy, two of champagne, and a long day full of emotional turmoil, added to the fact that Joanne had slept badly for the last few nights, ensured that she was asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow that night.

When her neat little bedside alarm woke her at seven the next morning, it was to the realisation that she had completed none of the last-minute preparations she had planned to do on her last evening in England, and that once the taxi had deposited her home the day before she had managed to get up the stairs, into her flat and into bed, and that was all, such had been her exhaustion.

Consequently, the two hours before Hawk arrived were spent in a mad dash that left no room for apprehension or doubts, and when the doorbell rang, spot on nine o'clock, she was just ready.

'Hi.' He was lounging against the outer wall when she opened the door, big and dark in a long charcoal overcoat which was open over a grey business suit and pale blue shirt. His cool self-assurance was staggering.

'You haven't changed your mind, then?' He nodded to her suitcase, placed in readiness at the side of the door, as he spoke, and she forced an answering smile that nearly cracked her face.

'Hardly.'

'It's been done before.' The handsome face was cynical.

'Not by me,' she said carefully. 'If I agree to something I carry it through, difficult though you may find that to believe.'

'I don't find it difficult.' His eyes narrowed to blue slits as he spoke, the intensity of the piercing gaze unnerving, and she had the strange unaccountable impression he was on tenterhooks about something and endeavouring to conceal it-although what she couldn't begin to imagine.

He picked up the lightest of the three cases, tucking it under one arm before lifting the other two, which weighed a ton, with an ease that told her the powerful body was as finely honed as she had suspected.

'Any last-minute goodbyes?' he asked quietly as she joined him on the landing after closing the front door.

'No, just the key to pop through the letterbox of the fiat below.' Now the moment had come she had none of the turmoil of the day before, merely a sense of inevitability. 'I said all my farewells yesterday.'

'Except one.' Dark eyebrows rose quizzically.

'Who?' She stared at him in surprise.

'Me,' he said softly.

'But I haven't left you,' she replied quickly. 'You're coming with me.'

'Ah, yes.' He smiled slowly and her skin began to tingle as the dark, alien side of him took over her senses. 'So our goodbyes are yet to be said?' It was said in a slightly amused voice but again the feeling that there was more below the surface had her staring at him with a straight face, her eyes big and golden in the cream of her skin and her hair framing her face like shimmering fire.

Once in the taxi he chatted easily about this and that, his manner relaxed and informal, but she had her work cut out to appear normal, the proximity of the big muscled body so close to hers sending little shock waves through every nerve and sinew with each tiny movement he made.

'Relax, Joanne.'

'What?' One moment he had been relating an amusing story about a business colleague they both knew, the next the hard blue gaze had fastened on her face and his hand had covered hers, his flesh warm and firm.

'You're nervous, on edge, and there's no need to be,' he said softly.

There's every need. 'I…I know that; I'm fine.'

'Little liar.' It was said quietly, his eyes skimming her face before coming to rest on her mouth, their touch like a warm caress. 'Is it just the unknown that puts that touch of fear in your eyes, Joanne?' he murmured. 'Or are you frightened of me too, of how it could be if you let it happen?'

'What?'

'Don't tell me you haven't felt it because I won't believe it; I've seen the reflection of what I feel in your eyes,' he said huskily. 'You wonder what it would feel like to be close to me, really close, for me to make love to you. You want me, Joanne; you can't deny it. You want me every bit as much as I want you.'

'You're mad.' She stared at him shakily, the fear of which he had spoken turning her eyes dark.

'No, merely honest It's the most natural thing in the world for a man and woman to be attracted to each other; there's nothing wrong in it, and our physical chemistry is so hot it's sizzling.'

'You're talking about an affair.' She couldn't believe this conversation was taking place, but at the same time it was almost as though she had been waiting for just this from the first moment she had laid eyes on him.

'I'm talking about enjoyment, the giving and receiving of pleasure,' he said softly. 'I want you, Joanne, I admit it; I haven't felt like this in a long, long time. We could be good together; I could make you want me in a way you've never wanted a man before.'

'Hawk-'

'What was his name, Joanne, the man who made you retreat into this formidable glass tower you inhabit?' he asked with a sudden intensity. 'Whatever he meant to you, whatever it was like, with me it will be better. I would always be totally honest, there would be no guessing games, no cruelty. When it was over, whoever ended it, it would be quick and final-'

'I don't want a relationship with you.' He was propositioning her on the one hand and telling her he would finish it cleanly on the other? she thought dazedly, anger providing a welcome shot of adrenalin that went some way to quelling the hurt. How dared he? How dared he assume she was just waiting to fall into his arms like an overripe peach? And what about him anyway? If anyone retreated into towers it was him, although his were made of inches-thick steel.

'Yes, you do, although you can't bring yourself to admit it,' he said with an assuredness that hit her on the raw.

She stared at him icily, and something of her utter outrage must have got through because he took his hand from over hers, leaning back in his corner of the cab as he surveyed her with narrowed blue eyes.

'Does my taking the job in France have anything to do with this conversation?' she snapped tightly. 'And I want this wonderful truth that you're always going on about, mind.'

'I offered you the position at Bergique & Son because I feel you would be an asset to the Mallen Corporation,' Hawk said coolly. 'Any personal liaison with me is something quite separate.'

'But it wouldn't go amiss to have a nice warm bed waiting for you when you visit?' she asked tartly. And any emotional involvement would mean he was completely sure of her loyalty to the Mallen empire. That, probably, was what all this was about; he was certainly cold-blooded enough to think that way. Oh, he was just a cynical brute of a man. And to think she had actually been grateful for all his apparent thoughtfulness yesterday, for the way he had steered her through the last difficult goodbyes, for his generosity over the leaving party, for his accompanying her to France to ease the way for her. Ease the way! Fury combined with humiliation at her naivety. It had all been about trying to manipulate her to his will, and in such a way that Hawk, and the Mallen empire, couldn't lose.

'I take it that's a no to my suggestion we get to know each other better?' he asked drily.

'Dead right.' It was scathing.

'Pity. Patience is not normally one of my virtues but it looks as though I'll have to draw on hitherto unused resources,' he drawled slowly. 'But I can wait, Joanne, when I have to. And something tells me you are well worth waiting for.'

'Do you expect me to thank you for that observation?' she asked cuttingly, praying that the trembling in her stomach wouldn't reveal itself to the rapier-sharp gaze.

'It would be nice.'

The dark amusement was the last straw. 'Hawk, whatever impression I might have given you I don't go in for tawdry little affairs,' she said tightly, her voice quivering with the force of her emotion. 'When I give myself to a man it will be because I love him, all of him, not just his body or the cheap thrill of a few weeks or months of sexual gymnastics-'

'Wait there a moment.' He cut into her fury with a raised hand as he straightened in his seat 'What are you saying here? You aren't asking me to believe that you haven't…' His voice trailed away and hot colour washed over her in a burning flood as it dawned on her what she had revealed. 'I don't believe it…'

'I'm not asking you to believe anything,' she said with as much dignity as she could muster in the circumstances, 'and whatever interpretation you put on my words is your own; I have no intention of explaining anything to you.'

'Joanne-'

'I just value myself as something more than a body on two legs, all right?' Or as a useful little tool for the Mallen empire, she thought hotly as the humiliation and embarrassment became almost more than she could bear. Oh, why hadn't she kept quiet?

Hawk was used to shrewd businesswomen, or rich young females who flitted from one affair to another like graceful, bored butterflies, or-oh, a million and one other connotations on the theme. One thing he wasn't used to were twenty-nine-year-old virgins who acted like outraged paragons when he suggested they might get to know each other better-albeit very much better, she thought weakly.

Not that she was ashamed of what and who she was- she wasn't; she just hadn't meant to broadcast it to the one person, above all others, who would be sure to treat the news with contempt.

Not that Hawk Mallen looked contemptuous-stunned would have been a better description, she thought flatly. No doubt he was already regretting the waste of a couple of days when he could have been frying other, more obliging fish. The thought prompted her to say, but not with as much tartness as she would have liked, 'I think it better that I go to France alone in the circumstances.'

'What circumstances are you referring to? I wasn't aware anything had altered.' He met her eyes as he spoke, and Joanne wasn't to know it was the finest piece of bluffing Hawk Mallen had ever indulged in-and that in the dog-eat-dog world of high business where a poker face and an expressionless voice could mean the gain or loss of millions.

The flight to France, and journey to Bergique & Son which was situated in the heart of Paris, was conducted in a tense, screaming silence that had Joanne's nerves stretched as tightly as piano wire by the time they arrived at the pleasant, stone-clad building close to the Seine.

Hawk had said very little since their conversation in the taxi in England. Beyond pointing out one or two of the sights to her once they were in the car on the other side of the Channel he had only spoken to enquire if she was comfortable on the plane, if she would like a drink, and other such social niceties. Joanne had answered him in monosyllables, not because she was trying to be awkward but because she could only manage to force one or two words past the constriction in her throat.

It didn't help that the elegantly attractive stewardesses hadn't been able to keep their eyes off him either-she was sure that given the least bit of encouragement he would have had two telephone numbers pressed on him, and in spite of her earlier rejection of his advances it had rankled-painfully. He was a free agent, all the model-type beauties in the world could come on to him and she wouldn't have the slightest right to object, but…it still rankled.

She had found herself watching him from under her eyelashes, seeing how he responded to the subtle-and once or twice not so subtle-overtures by the two glamorous women, but he hadn't even appeared to notice them. Not that that meant anything, she told herself tetchily. With all the women who no doubt threw themselves at him every day of the week he could afford to be choosy. And that brought her back to the unescapable conclusion she had been forced to earlier, which was hurting more and more despite her telling herself, every minute, every second, that she was a complete and utter fool to care.

Hawk Mallen had a whole host of adoring females who would be only too pleased to be at his beck and call; he needed another one like a hole in the head. So why had he propositioned her? Partly because he was attracted to her, yes, she had to give him that, but also because it would be very useful for him to have a nice devoted mistress installed at Bergique & Son to keep an eye on things for him, and also oblige with a warm bed when he deigned to visit France. Two birds with one stone. Clever.

'Bergique & Son. We've arrived.' They had just drawn up outside the three-storeyed, endlessly long structure, set in one of the great boulevards that had Paris's unmistakable stamp about it, and as Joanne gazed through the car window she felt a little shiver slither down her spine.

This apparently innocuous building was where she was going to prove herself over the next few months, or fail miserably, and after all that had happened earlier that day it was suddenly a matter of life or death that it was the former prospect.

She had to prove she wasn't a naive, ingenuous type of individual, but an intelligent career woman who was as much in charge of her private life as her career, that she knew exactly where she was going and how to get there. Because Hawk Mallen would be looking on, for sure, albeit from a distance, assessing, judging, probing. He was…formidable.

'Joanne?' Her head shot round to meet his; there had been that certain note in his voice she had heard just a few times before-soft, caressing. 'I want you to succeed here; I'm not your enemy.'

'I…I know.' She tried to sound convincing.

'No, I don't think you do.' His blue eyes had turned to glittering silver in the sunlight streaming through the car window and his mouth was rueful, sensuous, turning her limbs liquid and sending the blood racing through her veins. 'I want you, I have no intention of pretending otherwise, but that doesn't mean I'll behave like a sulky little boy if you don't want to share the warmth of my bed. You can rely on my backing, one hundred per cent, for anything you see fit to do within Bergique & Son.'

'Thank you,' she murmured quietly. She didn't know what to think; did anyone know what to think around Hawk Mallen? 'You must see it's better we keep our relationship on a business footing?'

'Must I?' He was watching her intently, his narrowed eyes roaming over her flushed face as her gaze fell from his. 'Why?'

'Because it wouldn't work; I'm different to you,' she said firmly.

'It's the difference that has me up at two in the morning having cold showers,' he said huskily.

The confession was unexpected and as her gaze met his again she saw raw hunger in the dark male face.

'Hawk, I'm going to be based in France, and you…you're all round the world You just want an affair, some fun when you visit-'

'No, you are wrong; I want more than that,' he said softly. 'You have got into my head, my bones, my blood; I have never trodden so carefully with a woman before, Joanne.' She stared at him, knowing that the punchline was going to follow, and it did.

'But I have to be honest too,' he said with a curious flatness. 'Women always complicate things by talking about love, when what they really mean is passion, desire, and I have learnt it is kinder from the outset to lay down the rules of play.'

He meant it; he really thought he was being fair, ethical in his cold-bloodedness, she thought faintly. She paused a moment, and then took a deep breath before she said, 'You don't believe two people can fall in love and live happily ever after?'

The driver of the firm's car, a long black limousine with lusciously soft leather upholstery, had been waiting outside to open Hawk's door for the last few moments, and now Hawk wound down his window and told him to carry the cases into the building, before rewinding it and turning to Joanne.

'I don't believe in happy ever after, no,' he said quietly, the devastatingly attractive face deadly serious. 'Look at the statistics, for crying out loud. I can believe in the power of obsession, sexual or otherwise, and I know desire and passion are real, but the notion of two people promising to stay together for the rest of their lives is pure folly, Joanne. Men and women can have good strong relationships, but inevitably that first sexual thrill dies and then, if they are locked into a marriage contract, one or the other of them will cause misery by sleeping with someone else.'

He stared at her unflinchingly, his sapphire gaze hard. 'The best relationships are the ones unclouded by any messy emotion,' he said evenly, 'where both partners have their eyes wide open.'

The basic idea behind Hawk's words-that love was an elusive dream without real form or credibility-was so near everything she had told herself in her youth and miserable teenage years that for a moment the past was more real than the present, and she felt the shock of it jolt her heart violently; but then an inner voice made itself heard.

She might have been sceptical, wary of love and the promises that went with it, but that time was past. Something had happened and she knew what she believed now-that there was something finer, more noble, more lasting than mere sexual involvement and an agreement of minds, or cold-blooded business arrangements where men and women slept together to further their careers.

Something of what she was feeling must have shown in her face because Hawk turned to look straight ahead, and now his profile was cold. 'It's dangerous to let yourself be fooled, Joanne,' he said flatly.

'I can't agree-'

'When my parents died so unexpectedly I had to go through their papers, personal and otherwise,' he said levelly, interrupting her as though she hadn't spoken. 'I found my mother's diaries…' There was a pause and then he said, 'They were a catalogue of despair and heartache and bitter grief. It would seem my father had had affairs from their fourth or fifth year of marriage, and they had broken my mother's heart, destroyed her self-esteem and turned her into someone she clearly didn't like.'

She didn't dare make any sound or movement; besides, she wouldn't have known what to say.

'The diaries acknowledged he still cared for her in his own way, as a friend, companion, but she wasn't enough for him; that was the truth of the matter however he tried to explain the other women away. My grandfather knew what was happening; in fact it had caused a final wedge between him and my father that was insurmountable and was a further complication between my parents.'

'But your grandfather didn't agree because he had loved his own wife so much,' Joanne said gently. 'Surely that must tell you that love is a real emotion?'

'They only had two years together before she died,' Hawk said quietly. 'Who knows what would have happened if my grandmother had lived?'

'Do you believe that-really believe it?' she asked huskily.

He turned his head and met the honey-brown gaze, and for a long moment, as he looked into the velvet orbs, he said nothing.

'Do you?' she persisted.

There was a flicker in the silver-blue eyes, a veiling of his thoughts, and then he said, ' Yes, I do. But I have been very remiss-this is neither the time nor the place for such a conversation, and you must be anxious to meet everyone now you are here.'

'It's all right-'

'No, it isn't. Forgive me.' He had retreated again, and so completely it was like a slap in the face.

The next two hours sped by in a whirl of introductions, numerous offices, social pleasantries and different faces, and over it all, every minute, every second, Joanne was aware of Hawk's dark, brooding presence on the perimeter of her gaze.

There was a subdued furore everywhere they went- less to do with her appearance than with Hawk's, Joanne reflected wryly-and plenty of sycophantic chit-chat that indicated everyone was well aware of the precarious state of the firm and why new blood had been brought in. Pierre was conspicuous by his absence and his sylph-like secretary, Antoinette, a slender, graceful nineteen-year-old who stared at Joanne with great dark eyes and a carefully blank face, made his apologies in a neutral voice that gave nothing away.

Nevertheless, Joanne was aware the French girl didn't like her, and the knowledge was a little disconcerting, considering they would be working closely together in the future.

She would perhaps have been a little more concerned about Antoinette, the somewhat slipshod air of the firm in general, and her growing certainty that the job was going to be even harder than she had expected, if a large segment of her mind hadn't been taken up with Hawk's amazing revelation about his parents. His father's betrayal and his mother's anguish had affected him deeply, that much was obvious, but she couldn't rid herself of the impression that there was something more he hadn't told her, another complication that had driven the deep lines of cynicism into the sides of that sensuous mouth.

But he wouldn't tell her if there was. She glanced across at him now as he stood talking to Antoinette on the other side of the room, the beautiful French girl clearly hanging on his every word. Intuition told her he regretted revealing as much as he had already, and he wouldn't thank her for the impulse which had prompted it. He was a loner, the original wolf who walked alone, and to get mixed up with a man like him would be emotional suicide, even if she didn't love him.

Love him? The shock of the thought caused her to stare glassy-eyed at the young man who was trying to engage her in conversation, and she must have gone white because he immediately suggested she sit down, that he fetch her a glass of water, or perhaps she needed some fresh air? 'It has been a long day for you.' The French voice with its sexy accent was ingratiatingly concerned. 'Yes?'

'Yes.' She aimed for a lightness she was far from feeling. 'But productive.' Act normally, put this to the back of your mind till later, talk, smile…

It was another half an hour before Hawk suggested he take her to the apartment which had been rented for her as part of the job package, and every single muscle in her face and body was so tense she felt like one giant ache. She couldn't risk the luxury of thinking; she was working on automatic and dealing purely with the absolute present-what she could see and hear and feel. If she started to think she would become petrified, or burst into tears, or shout and scream, and none of the options were attractive.

'You handled that just fine.' The American drawl was more obvious than normal as they walked out of the building and over to the car which had just been brought round to the front. 'I'm impressed.'

'Are they, though?' She smiled as she said it but he caught the underlying tension that made her voice over-bright.

'I think so.' He opened the car door for her and the piercing blue gaze watched her as she slid into the back of the car. 'And if they're not they soon will be.' He was leaning on the top of the door as he spoke and for a moment their eyes caught and held before he straightened, shutting the door with a soft slam.

Why did he have to do that-be so…nice? she asked herself savagely as he walked round the back of the car and slid into the seat beside her, tapping the glass divide once he was seated and indicating for the driver to pull away. Solicitude and tact didn't come naturally with Hawk Mallen-she had observed him in action for weeks and a barracuda couldn't be more ruthless-and it made the gentleness he had just displayed terribly seductive.

The late afternoon sky had darkened in the last hour, black storm clouds looming threateningly in the October twilight, but Joanne could see the slender spire of the Notre Dame, the Grande Dame of Paris, against the grey sky as the first drops of rain began to splatter against the car windows.

'We're in for a storm.' Hawk glanced at her, his male bulk big and alien in the car's interior. 'I was going to suggest we tour round for a while, see some of the sights and have a meal, but perhaps you'd rather go straight to the apartment?'

'Yes, please.' In spite of the spaciousness within the limousine his nearness was making her breathless.

'Your alacrity is a little dampening,' he said drily, his sapphire eyes glittering in the darkness of his face. 'Is my company really so hard to take?'

'I didn't mean it like that,' she protested weakly.

'No?' He smiled, that wonderfully elusive sexy smile that he used so rarely but with such devastating effect. 'Then I might get a cup of coffee in your new home?'

'But what about him?' She gestured agitatedly at the driver.

'Three's a crowd if that's what you mean, but don't worry, I have no intention of making the poor guy hang about waiting for me,' Hawk said easily. 'I'll get a cab from your place to my hotel, okay?'

Her place. She stared at him, her brain refusing to function. 'But…' He wasn't going to take no for an answer; she could see it in the sudden narrowing of his eyes. 'I haven't anything in; I haven't even seen the apartment yet-'

'No problem.' His gaze traced the outline of her lips, making her flesh tingle. 'I had the concierge take care of that.'

'Oh.' That was that, then; Hawk Mallen had spoken and the rest of the world could only obey-

'I know I should wait until I am asked, but I have the nasty feeling I would wait a long time, Joanne.' His voice was suspiciously humble now as though he had lead her thoughts-which he had-but in spite of the knowledge she was being duped she just couldn't resist the little-boy charm.

'Well, if you've the time…' she said helplessly, the anger that had risen at his arrogance magically gone.

'That I have.' He grinned suddenly, his eyes wicked. 'The pleasure of a few minutes in your company is worth any sacrifice-'

'Oh, please…' Her voice was sarcastic but she couldn't help smiling back, even as the warning bells began to ring loud and hard. He was dangerous, so, so dangerous, and never more than now, when he was wielding that powerful magnetism for his own purposes, his eyes merciless as they took in her flushed confusion. She ought to tell him she was tired, that it had been one hell of a day, that she needed time alone to sort out the muddle of her thoughts, all of which would be true.

But she wasn't going to-her eyes darkened at her stupidity-because she wanted to be with him for a few minutes more. She wanted to have him to herself, to know that he was concentrating on her and her alone. He didn't love her, she knew that, but she had spelt out the rules of play loud and clear that morning, and if he still wanted to spend time in her company, knowing how she felt, surely that was all right? She was trying to justify herself against the accusing voice in her head telling her she was playing with fire, even as she acknowledged she had no defence.

Hawk slid aside the glass partition separating them from the driver, giving the address of her apartment before explaining their change of plan and then settling back comfortably in his seat.

She was vaguely aware of the street cafés, elegant architecture and unmistakable ambience which was Paris as the car bowled along wide boulevards, but the excitement, the magic, was all enclosed within the car for Joanne.

It was utter madness, the worst sort of foolishness, to fall for a man like Hawk Mallen, she acknowledged desperately, her heart thudding a tattoo as the electricity within the car became frightening; but if he didn't know, surely she was safe? He thought she was merely attracted to him on a physical level, he'd made that plain, so all she had to do was maintain the principles she'd set that morning. Simple really…

The apartment was situated in the north of Paris, in Montmartre, which seemed to Joanne very much a little village in its own right Although the bustling centre was a hive of activity, the area in the north-east where her modern apartment block stood, shaded by large trees, was more quiet, with an abundance of green parkland and sleepy museums.

'I thought you would prefer something restful to come home to after a hard day's work,' Hawk said quietly as the driver unloaded her luggage and Hawk's overnight bag from the limousine, 'and La Villette is one of the gentler spots in Paris.'

'It's lovely.' Joanne managed a smile as Hawk sent the driver on his way and picked up all the luggage, a bag under each arm and suitcases in either hand, before leading the way through the paved garden with fountain and up the five broad steps to the front door.

The concierge was there immediately they stepped into the elegant foyer, a small dapper man who was all smiles and teeth. 'Monsieur Mallen, Mademoiselle Crawford, welcome, welcome.' The high, excited voice matched his appearance, and he barely paused for breath before saying, 'Everything is ready as you requested, Monsieur Mallen; I am sure Mademoiselle Crawford will be most comfortable, but if these is anything I can do, anything at all…'

'Merci.' Hawk was polite but firm. 'I'm sure Mademoiselle Crawford will call if she needs you, Gerard. There is no need to accompany us; I have the key.'

'But the cases, Monsieur-'

'No problem.' Hawk cut short the anguished protest by the simple expedient of pushing a folded note in the little man's hand before striding purposefully to the lift, Joanne following in his wake.

'Merci, Monsieur Mallen, merci beaucoup.'

It had clearly been a generous tip, Joanne reflected wryly as the concierge continued to beam rapturously while Hawk placed their luggage in the lift and drew Joanne in beside him, the little man only turning to prance away as the lift doors began to close. And then a sudden thought struck her. 'You seem to know your way around,' she said suspiciously. 'Have you been here before?'

'Of course.' The vivid blue eyes with their thick black lashes looked straight at her as he said, 'You didn't think I would take an apartment for you without checking it out first?'

'You?' She realised her mouth was open and shut it with a little snap.

'Yes, me.' He smiled lazily. 'I had Antoinette do the donkey work and narrow it down to three suitable places from which I chose this one.'

'I see.' And she did. This, then, was to be his love-nest in France, and no doubt there were others in different parts of the world, perhaps with other 'manageresses' keeping them warm? 'Why?'

'Because it was the most suitable.' He knew that wasn't what she had meant-she could tell so from the sardonic gleam in his eyes-but short of asking him outright if he had an ulterior motive in looking over her new home she couldn't say much more. But she didn't like this; she didn't like it at all, she thought silently.

'Gerard lives on the ground floor just off the foyer,' Hawk continued evenly, 'and nothing much gets past him. I like that.' The lift slid to a halt and he bent to pick up the cases again as he added, 'You can't be too careful in this day and age.'

Indeed you can't, she thought tightly as she glanced at the black head, the short, springy hair shining with virile health. But her concern was less in the nature of a possible intruder than the man a foot or so away from her, who had turned her life upside down and inside out over the last few weeks.

'Stop frowning and come and see your new abode.'

She opened her mouth to say she wasn't frowning as he straightened, but then realised she was and hastily smoothed her features as the piercing gaze came her way again.

They stepped from the lift into ankle-deep carpeting, and as Hawk moved across the small cream-coloured square of space to the front door, setting down the cases and inserting a key in the lock, she stared about her bewilderedly. 'Where are all the other apartments?'

'There is one on each floor, five in all,' Hawk said easily. 'This is the top one to give you more of a view.'

'Hawk-'

But he had already stepped into the apartment and she had no choice but to follow him in. It was the last word in luxury, and immediately the concierge's fawning behaviour became clear. This wasn't the sort of place normal people, like her, lived in, she thought helplessly. This was way out of her league, job or no job. She could never afford this-

'Do you like it?' He was watching her face very carefully although in her shock she wasn't aware of it.

'Like it?' The room they had entered was an elegant drawing room in pale blue and yellow which seemed to stretch endlessly-impressive, beautiful, with dark wood furniture and a beautiful suite, TV, hi-fi, bar… 'I can't afford this, Hawk, you know that,' she said tightly, anger curling through her stomach.

'It's part of the package,' he said expressionlessly. 'I thought you realised that.'

Keep calm; match him for coolness. Her brain was giving orders she obeyed automatically. 'This is not a normal apartment,' she said evenly, 'and you know it.'

'Normality is relative.' He waited across the room to file fireplace where a living-flame fire was flickering red and gold. 'I had this put in to mate it more homely,' he said coolly.

'Hawk, this is ridiculous-'

'Come and see the view,' he interrupted authoritatively.

She joined him at the huge patio windows which opened on to a large balcony, beyond which it seemed as though all Paris was stretched out before her, taking great steadying breaths as she did so.

'Do you want to go outside?' he asked quietly.

'No, I do not' It was clipped and terse.

'Come and see the rest of it, then,' he said calmly.

He wasn't giving her time to think, let alone talk; that much registered. He was bulldozing her along as though this were all/air accompli, and it wasn't. She couldn't let it be. What would people say? What obvious conclusion would they come to if she allowed him to install her in a place like this?

The rest of the apartment was equally superb-the separate dining room in pale gold, the massive fitted kitchen and breakfast area, the en suite bathroom, a splendid marbled construction in cream and honey-brown, and the bedroom with its huge four-poster bed and silk hangings. It was all incredible, larger than life- very much like Hawk Mallen, Joanne thought as the anger began to take over, flushing her cheeks scarlet.

'You must see I can't live here, Hawk.' She faced him after the tour in the same spot they had started in, just inside the front door. 'It would make my position at Bergique & Son impossible from the start.'

'Why?' The huge, high-ceilinged room suited him perfectly; he had perfect domination over his surroundings as he stood watching her silently, his hands thrust in his pockets and his blue eyes narrowed like lasers on her hot face.

'You don't need to ask that, surely, not a man of the world like you?' she said cuttingly. 'Everyone would assume I was your mistress; you know they would.'

'I would have thought that could only strengthen your position,' he said with outrageous arrogance. 'Give you the sort of edge you need.'

'I don't need an edge from you.' She drew herself up straight, her face fiery. 'I'll sink or swim by my own efforts, thank you-'

'Don't be so childish.' The complete lack of emotion m his voice and face made her even madder.

'Childish?' Her voice was far too shrill but she didn't case. 'I'm not so childish that I don't know why you've rented this place, Hawk Mallen. And that little man downstairs knew too, didn't fee? In feet the whole world and his wife probably know.'

'Perhaps you'd like to be more specific?' he said softly.

'Do I have to spell it out?' she hissed furiously, his composure all the more irritating when she was so uptight she could barely speak.

'Humour me.' There was a thread of steel in the gravelly voice now but for once it didn't intimidate her. Whatever he said, however he explained it away, she just knew he had originally set this place up thinking she would become his mistress. How dared he? How dare be assume so much?!

'You thought I would allow myself to be bought, didn't you?' she accused grimly, watching him with angry eyes as he crossed the room to stand just in front of her, his big body formidable. 'You arranged all this, the apartment, everything, thinking I would agree to deep with you. I know it's the truth, Hawk, whether you admit it or not.'

'I wouldn't insult your intelligence by pretending anything else.'

It was said coolly, and without the slightest shred of embarrassment, and for a moment she was so taken aback she just stared at him before her hand lashed out and connected with the tanned skin of his face in a ringing slap.

'You…you-'

'Now just hold on there.' He caught one hand, and then the other, as she attempted to hit him again, and she saw, with a measure of satisfaction despite the circumstances, that his cool had quite gone. 'Hold cm a damn minute, will you, woman? I admit I'd hoped we might get together when I looked at this place, but that wasn't the sole reason for buying it I wanted to know you were safe, in a good environment and with some protection-'

'You liar-'

'I never lie, Joanne,' he said grimly. 'If you had agreed to start a relationship with me that would have been the icing on the cake, of course it would, I admit it, damn it, but there was never any question of buying you. I know enough about you to realise you can't be bought.'

'Do you? Do you indeed?' she shot back furiously. 'Then tell me, if the new manager were old and ugly, or married, would you have got this particular apartment? Is this the normal sort of package you give to new employees you aren't worried about impressing?'

He stared at her for a good thirty seconds, his face working, and she knew he wanted to deny it but also that he couldn't, the devastating honesty that was an integral part of him blocking the words, and then he pulled her against him, so violently she almost lost her breath before his mouth swooped down on hers in a kiss that was all fire and fury.

'No!'

She fought him-afterwards she reminded herself over and over that she had fought him-but it had been too late the moment his lips had touched hers. That very second she had begun to drown in a multitude of sensations that had no rhyme or reason to them, her love for him taking over so completely that what was all wrong felt terrifyingly right.

He had moulded her into his frame from that first moment, his male body encompassing hers in a manner as old as time, the perfect jigsaw, and she was left in no doubt as to the state of his arousal.

And he knew. He knew her resistance was paper-thin, because after the first few minutes his hold on her slackened, just enough to prove she was in his arms because she wanted to be.

She moaned, she couldn't help it, as he began to nip and taste and savour her mouth, exciting her so seductively, so expertly that she was quivering and moist in his arms when the kiss was no longer light and teasing, but a declaration of intent.

Joanne shivered helplessly as the sensuous mouth played with her shell-like ears before moving to the sensitive skin of her throat, seeking the slight swell of her cleavage just visible under her businesslike blouse. He was good, he was so, so good, and although she knew he didn't feel the same, that he had stated exactly what she could expect from him, her heightened emotions were quelling all lucid thought.

There was electricity flowing through her veins instead of blood; she could feel it in every nerve and sinew as it created an ache that was unbearable.

His body heat released the faint trace of expensive aftershave that was still on his skin, and she couldn't believe what the erotic fragrance did to her senses, entwined as she was in his arms.

He thrust his tongue into her mouth, in the same way he wanted to thrust into the warm, pliable female body that was so soft and fluid against his strong male frame, and as he felt her answering response sensation exploded through him like raw fire, causing him to become rock-hard.

'Joanne, Joanne…' His breathing was lagged as the palms of his hands slid over the smooth silky skin of her stomach, the warmth of her, the slight moisture on her flesh, creating a pleasure-pain that was overwhelming.

All that had happened earlier that day-the knowledge that he was manipulating her, the whole situation, to his and the Mallen Corporation's advantage-just didn't seem to bear any weight when she was in his arms. Joanne knew it-a tiny rational part of her mind was shouting the warning with all its might-but it was ineffective against the bewilderingly new sensations she was experiencing for the first time.

His hands were in the glowing red silk of her hair, pulling her head gently back to tilt her mouth for greater invasion.

Was this how her mother had felt with the man who had given her her one and only child? Joanne asked herself helplessly. She had always sensed her mother had felt something special for her father-not that she had ever admitted it, but despite her bitterness and resentment that Joanne looked like him there had always been a longing in her eyes when she had spoken his name that hadn't been there with all the others.

Perhaps she had felt like this; perhaps you only felt like this once in a lifetime and that was why her mother had wasted the rest of her life trying to find that elusive feeling again?

Her body was boneless now, her legs trembling so much it was only Hawk's arms holding her against him which were keeping her upright, and she could hear herself murmuring his name, moaning his name, as he ravished her throat in an agony of desire.

And then, shockingly, unbelievably, just when she thought he was going to draw her down on to the thick deep carpet and she would have to find some strength to fight him, if she could, he moved her out of his arms and walked to the door.

His voice told her-its deep tones penetrating the fog of desire that still held her in its seductive grip-that she should get a good night's sleep, that she was tired, and, lastly, that he would see her in the morning.