worriedly. 'But apart from leaving a message for you to ring us when you got home, and the letter, of course, we didn't know how to contact you. The postcards kept coming from somewhere different every few days. Did you have a nice time?' she added as an afterthought.
'Lovely.' Joanne dismissed the month of fun and laughter in one word.
'And you only found out about the merger when you went in this morning?' Clare enquired anxiously.
Joanne nodded. She had only been able to blurt that much out on the doorstep before bursting into tears, from which point it had been all action.
'And did Hawk Mallen explain it fully?' Charles asked now. 'I couldn't have refused, Jo; offers like that don't come every day. Besides which…' He paused, glancing at Clare who nodded encouragingly. 'I haven't been too well recently and this seemed to present itself as a chance to get out of the rat race and have a few years enjoying ourselves before we're too old.'
'What do you mean, not too well?' Joanne knew Charles; he would rather walk through coals of fire than ever admit he was less than one hundred per cent fit It was something she and Clare, along with the couple's three children, called his obstinate streak.
'We haven't told the children, for the same reason we didn't tell you-you'd all worry yourselves to death. But that time three months ago when Charles had a week off with flu-it was a minor heart attack. Very minor,' Clare added hastily as Joanne's eyes shot to Charles's sheepish face, 'but I've persuaded him to take it as a warning, and when this offer from the Mallen Corporation came along it seemed like the answer to everything.'
'Why didn't you tell me about the heart attack?' Joanne asked faintly. 'I could have helped.'
'
'Or fussing,' Charles cut in wryly. 'Clare did all the fussing that was necessary, believe me.'
'How long has this takeover been in the offing?' Joanne asked numbly, feeling as though the ground was moving under her feet. Charles was ill, with heart trouble?
'There has been the odd feeler there for a couple of months,' Charles said quietly, 'but the thing only crystallised the week you left for Europe. The Mallen Corporation is huge-I don't know if Hawk explained to you, but the publishing side is just one of their interests. When the offer became concrete I jumped at it, it's as simple as that really, and I decided to cut the umbilical cord in the process.'
'Hawk Mallen is old man Mallen's grandson and right-hand man; apart from knowing everything there is to know about publishing, he's a brilliant businessman and entrepreneur-something I've never pretended to be,' he added drily. 'He's the future, I'm the past; if I had stayed I would have got in his way and that wouldn't have been good for either of us. He's a ruthless so-and-so, but he's got what it takes, Jo; you can't fault the man on business acumen.'
'I see.' As Charles went on, explaining the details of the transaction and the part everyone had played in it, Joanne's heart sank deeper and deeper.
It had been Charles who had insisted on the opt-out clause, Charles who had wanted to walk away at once without any long-drawn-out and heart-rending, mentally exhausting valedictions. And she'd accused Hawk Mallen of… She inwardly squirmed as she remembered the exact charges she'd laid at his feet. Oh, what a mess, what a terrible, almost laughable mess. Thank goodness she could rely on Charles for a good reference because she sure as eggs wouldn't get one from the eminent Mr Mallen.
If he wasn't as mad as hell at her, he'd be laughing his head off, and of the two options she'd much prefer the former, she thought painfully as a pair of piercingly blue cold eyes set in a hard, uncompromising face swam into the screen of her mind. But fortunately she'd never know one way or the other anyway, having burnt her bridges so completely.
And now she would have to tell Clare and Charles…
They were upset, horrified, bewildered-blaming themselves, Hawk Mallen, anyone but Joanne-but by the time she left their tranquil home, after an alfresco lunch under the clear September sky, she had their solemn promise not to try to get her reinstated in any way.
She had made her bed and she would lie on it, she thought determinedly on the drive home, and maybe it was time for a change anyway. She was twenty-nine years of age, and after the years of exams and striving for her degree she had only had two jobs-one of which was Concise Publications-and had hardly seen anything of life. The trip round Europe these past weeks had opened her eyes to the fact that there was a big wide world out there, just waiting to be explored, and perhaps this was the nudge she needed to get moving?
She had been happy and safe the last few years, Charles and Clare's open-armed drawing of her into their family going some way to heal the hurts of the past, but whilst she was cocooned in such a protected environment she would never reach out for more. And she wanted more.
The thought was a surprise, opening her eyes wide for an instant as she considered it. But it was true. Not the bonds of matrimony or a husband-she felt the panic and fear that accompanied such a possibility wash over her before she thrust them back behind the closed door in her mind-but she wanted to travel, to see new places, new cultures, work in different environments. And she could do it;
Her spacious one-bedroom flat on the top storey of an old renovated house overlooking myriad rooftops and a wide expanse of light washed sky welcomed her as she opened the front door, the large terracotta-tiled balcony where she ate most of her meals during the spring and summer causing a momentary hiccup in her plans. Could she leave it? This, her first real home where she had been so happy, so secure?
She opened the French windows from the high-ceilinged lounge and walked out on to the flower-bedecked balcony, noting that most of the plants festooning the walls and floor were alive and thriving, for which she had to thank her neighbour on the floor below who had promised faithfully to water them each evening.
She was brought from further musing by the strident ringing of the telephone in the room she had just left and hurried back indoors, lifting the receiver and speaking breathlessly as she gave the number, fully expecting it to be Clare making sure she had reached home safely after the emotion of the day.
It wasn't Clare.
'Miss Crawford?' The deep dark voice was unmistakable. 'This is Hawk Mallen.'
'I… What…? Yes, Mr Mallen?' Oh, pull yourself together, for goodness' sake, she thought scathingly as she heard her faltering voice with a burst of self-contempt that was humiliating. What
'Are you in full possession of all the facts relating to the takeover of Concise Publications by Mallen Books now?' the male voice, with its almost gravelly texture, asked expressionlessly.
'I think… I think so, and I just want to say I didn't realise… That is, I know I spoke out of turn-'
'Miss Crawford, I didn't ring for an apology, if that's what you are thinking, although it is acknowledged and accepted.'
She blinked a little, even more glad she was sitting down as her stomach turned over with a shuddering jerk. He was terrifying-in spite of the miles separating them that dark, formidable aura swept into the room along with his voice and caused her nerves to go haywire.
Once Charles had accepted she was serious about not going back he had related numerous stories about the Mallen empire, most of them featuring Hawk Mallen, and as she had listened she had known that even if today had not happened she could not have worked for this single-minded, utterly frightening, ruthless tycoon. He was the original workaholic according to Charles-cold, untouchable, his reputation built purely by his own efforts and having nothing to do with his grandfather's name. As Charles had gone on the main element to her emotion was sheer wonder that she had dared to say all she had to this walking legend. No wonder he had looked so amazed as she had left; it was doubtful if anyone had ever spoken to him like that before, or walked out on him either.
'Miss Crawford? Are you still there?'
She realised she was sitting in a kind of trance and jerked to life with the voice in her ear. 'Yes, yes, I am.' Breathe deeply, talk coherently,
'I would like to see you privately; I think the office staff have been entertained enough for one day,' he said silkily, his voice so smooth and bland that for a moment the import of his words didn't strike home. 'And preferably before the day starts tomorrow. Would this evening be convenient?'
'This evening?' Her voice was a squeak of horror- she knew it and he must have heard it, and now she began to
