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-
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.
'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,
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?'
