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
'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
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
