mongrel.'
'No?' He grinned at her, his teeth white in the tanned skin of his face. 'Well, perhaps not,' he conceded sardonically. 'I would certainly kill any man who suggested so.'
'I don't doubt it.' And she meant it.
'But you haven't answered my question, tactful Joanne,' he drawled mockingly.
'What question?' She wanted to whirl round and run, turn the clock back an hour to the state of play that had existed before the wretched coffee, before this broodingly dangerous being had emerged from the tycoon's skin; but it was too late.
'Have I persuaded you that I am a normal nice man?' he asked drily. 'Or is this outside the realms of possibility?'
'I don't know what you want me to say.' She stared at him, her golden eyes enormous. 'I work for you-'
'Forget the working for me.' It was sharp, too sharp, and as he saw her flinch he moderated his tone, his eyes continuing to gleam like molten silver as he said, 'Tell me the truth, Joanne, that's all I ask.'
That was never all a man like him asked, she thought faintly, but if he wanted the truth then he could have it, job or no job.
'I don't think 'normal' and the name Mallen are compatible,' she said quietly. 'From what I've heard about your grandfather he is out of the ordinary too. As for nice-well, I don't know you, do I?' she prevaricated uneasily. 'You might be.'
'But you doubt it.'
She had expected him to be angry but the hard mouth was twitching with amusement.
'You are right about my grandfather, Joanne,' he said thoughtfully after a few moments of holding her with the mesmerising power of his eyes. 'He is a character, quite a character. Ruthless, irascible, probably the most impatient man I've ever met-'
'But with a heart of gold?' she put in daringly before she could stop herself.
The quirk to his lips acknowledged her bravery. 'No, he is as hard as iron.' All amusement fled as he added, 'He's had to be; if you knew his life story you would understand that. He was born poor, dirt-poor, and when he first met my grandmother he told her he wouldn't marry her until he had made his first million. She was from a rich French family, you see, and people said… Well, you can imagine what they said,' he added flatly.
'She waited ten years for him and they had two years together, as man and wife, before my father was born. She died having him.' Her shock was evident and he shook his head slowly as he said, 'He never looked at another woman after she died and he's had offers- plenty. My father was the image of her, apparently, but strangely they never got on. It caused the old man a lot of grief, especially after my parents were killed, although he's never discussed it.'
'But he has you, his grandson.'
'Yes, he has me,' he agreed softly.
'And that's more family than some people have.' She hadn't meant to vocalise that thought, it had just popped out of its own volition, and now she flushed scarlet as she lowered her eyes and aimed to bring the conversation back on a more mundane level. 'That financial statement you had from Pierre-I think-'
'Why are you so frightened of me, Joanne?' he asked quietly.
'What?'
As she raised her eyes again he levered himself off the desk, bringing his lean, lithe body to within inches of her own and noting the little backward step that she made before checking herself with a tightening of his mouth.
'You find me threatening, is that it?' He moved an inch or so closer and this time she forced herself to stand absolutely still, her small chin rising a notch as she stared steadily into the glittering eyes. 'An alien in the safe little world you have created for yourself?'
It was so near the mark that her breath caught in her throat for a moment, his subtle menace more pronounced as he came close enough for the wickedly blended, sensual aftershave he wore to stroke her senses, heightening her awareness of him so it became painful. She had to stop this, had to defuse things…
'I work for you, that's all-'
'Perhaps I don't want that to be all,' he said silkily.
Her eyes were locked with his, her limbs frozen, even as her brain was telling her to get out, to remove herself from the line of fire. His height was forcing her head to tilt back as she stared up at him and she was vitally aware of the muscled breadth of him, of the power of that magnificent chest cage she had so recently seen in all its splendour.
'What about you, Joanne?' His voice was warm and deep, caressing her as expertly as though he were touching her. 'What do you want?'
She wanted to tell him she wasn't interested, that he had to leave her alone, that he was the last man, the very last man, she would get involved with, but somehow all she could do was stare at him, quite unable to move or speak.
'You are…tantalising, do you know that?' he asked huskily. 'A delicious blend of grown-up woman and young girl contained in a creamy soft skin that makes me want to bite it-gently of course,' he added softly as her eyes widened. 'And that dusting of freckles across your nose-I didn't know women still had freckles. Come out with me tonight, to a show or something.'
'What?' The last bit was so abrupt she didn't know if she had heard right.
'A show. With me. Tonight.' It was said mockingly, but there was a note in the dark voice that made her toes curl, and it was this, more than anything, that flashed a red warning light in front of her vision.
'I don't think so.' She tried for cool firmness and failed miserably. 'I've always held the belief that work and play should be quite separate,' she said primly, avoiding his eyes.
'So have I,' he agreed immediately.
'Well, then.'
'But there always has to be one exception to the rule, besides which within days you won't be around for it to matter much, one way or the other,' he said smoothly.
So this was going to be a wham, bam, thank-you-ma'am kind of evening? she thought numbly. What was he expecting? Payment in kind for the marvellous job offer? Was that it? And then she could scoot off across the Channel, no doubt forgotten the moment her bag was packed?
'Joanne?' He took her shoulders in his hands, his touch jerking her head-which had been drooping forward-up to meet the ice-blue gaze. 'I'm suggesting an evening out, just that, okay? I have never yet used my position to blackmail a woman into my bed and I have no intention of starting with you.'
He'd done it again-read her mind, she thought frantically.
'And while we're on the subject you got the job on merit, pure and simple, just in case that fertile little imagination of yours has decided otherwise.' He was mad; that much was obvious from the frosty countenance surveying her.
'I didn't think-'
'And don't lie to me.' The black brows frowned at her. 'I told you before, I expect the truth.'
He was still holding her, her eyes on a level with his tanned throat, and whether it was the fact that her heart was pounding like a sledgehammer, which was humiliating in itself, or that whatever the situation he always seemed to put
'Then perhaps it's time to get to know a different sort of man,' he said silkily. 'One that can think with his brain rather than a lower part of his anatomy.'
'Like you, you mean?' she flashed back hotly.
'Why all this anger and resentment?' He had changed. In an instant the derisive cutting element had gone and the sensuously persuasive and much more dangerous Hawk was back, his eyes almost stroking her hot skin as they wandered over her flushed face. 'Is it such a crime to want to spend an evening in your company, Joanne? In spite of all the formidable keep-off signs you must have the occasional brave man dare to make such a suggestion?'
She shrugged, moving away from him as she did so, and he made no effort to stop her. 'I don't have much time for socialising,' she said briefly, feeling a little better when there were a few feet of air between them.
'So your idea of keeping work and play separate boils down to all work and no play?' he asked mockingly. 'What
