from the piercingly clear blue eyes. She could see how this man had carved an empire for himself despite all the odds against him; Hawk was definitely a chip off the old block.
'Are you too warm?' Jed Mallen indicated the huge roaring log fire that was crackling in the fireplace of the beautiful, but very masculine, drawing room she had been shown into. 'The treatment I've been undergoing makes me susceptible to the cold, I'm afraid.'
'No, I'm not too warm, Mr Mallen; I'm afraid I'm one of those people who can never be too warm,' Joanne said quickly.
'Hmm, I can see why.' The laser-like eyes burnt up and down for a moment. 'You're too thin-or 'slim', as it's supposed to be called these days. You don't live on lettuce leaves and carrots, do you?' he added caustically.
'No, I don't.' Joanne's hackles had risen and she answered smartly and with a marked lack of the ceremony he had spoken of earlier, her face stiffening tightly.
'And it's none of my damned business anyway.' He finished what she had left unsaid with a wry smile that was identical to Hawk's. 'Do you know, I think we'll get along just fine, Miss…? Can I call you Joanne?' he asked abruptly.
'Yes, of course,' she answered a little weakly.
'Thank you.' He sat back in the large winged leather armchair as he said, 'And my name is Jed, but of course you know that. Hawk isn't with you, is he?'
'No, there was an emergency in the San Francisco office this morning-'
'Yes, yes, I know; I arranged it,' he said briskly, with the touch of brusqueness she suspected was habitual with him, land then, as he caught sight of her look of surprise, added, 'You don't approve? He'll be back tonight, never fear-he is used to taking a plane here and there at a moment's notice-but I wanted to meet you for the first time without him around. Did you have a good flight?'
It was as though he had suddenly remembered his manners, and Joanne had to hide a smile as she replied, 'Very good, thank you.'
'Do you like my grandson, Joanne?'
'What?' She forgot this was the head of the Mallen empire, a powerful, ruthless and, if half the stories about him were true, cruel multi-millionaire, and reared up in her seat as though she had been stung. What on earth had her liking Hawk to do with anything? she asked herself angrily. She was here as the manageress of Bergique & Son, wasn't she? And if he was doubting her ability to do the job-if he thought she had been sleeping with his grandson in order to get the position-
'I said, do you like my grandson?' The tone was flat, expressionless, and his face was perfect for playing poker. 'A simple yes or no will suffice.'
She stared into the hard, handsome face for a moment, the crackling of the fire, the subdued glow from the discreet lighting in the huge, sombre room, the absolute quiet beyond the walls all adding to the unreality of the moment. 'Yes, Mr Mallen, I like your grandson,' she answered quietly, in a tone as flat and even as he had used. 'He is a very fair employer.'
The formidably intelligent gaze roamed over her for a full minute-during which time she sat still and stiff with dignity-before he smiled, nodding to himself as he said, 'Yes, I understand now. You
'Different?' This extraordinary conversation was fast leaving the realms of reason. 'I'm sorry, Mr Mallen, but I don't understand-'
'Jed, my dear.' He adjusted his position in the chair, and she noticed the wince of pain he tried to hide with a rush of guilt and compassion. This was Hawk's grandfather and he was dying; she really shouldn't have got on her high horse-
'Would you take afternoon tea with me, Joanne?' He interrupted her racing thoughts quietly, not betraying by word or gesture that he had accurately read her thoughts. So she had compassion and tenderness, as well as guts, beauty and intelligence, did she? But of course she would have; he should have known…
'Thank you; that would be very nice.' Her earlier thoughts made her voice soft 'Would you like me to show you some facts and figures I've brought with me?' She indicated the briefcase at her feet 'And I've some financial statements-'
'Not necessary.' He waved the offer aside with the faintly irritable gesture she was beginning to recognise. 'Now I've met you I am quite happy to leave all that in your very capable hands.'
'But I thought-'
'Have tea with me, my dear.' He smiled, a real smile this time, which again was so like Hawk's rarely used but devastating smile that she found her breath catching in her throat. 'And we'll just chat, like two old friends, eh? I have little time for chatting these days, Joanne, and I am finding I want it more and more. You think that perverse?'
'No.' Now Joanne did smile. The old devil could use the Mallen charm when he cared to-he was even more like his grandson than she had first supposed.
'Ah, you think me manipulative.' The white head nodded at her. 'Don't bother to deny it; your face is very expressive. But you are right as it happens, although I am arrogant enough to view that particular facet of my character as an attribute rather than a shortcoming.' Now the smile was a grin, and Joanne actually laughed out loud at the somewhat wicked glee in the distinguished face.
She liked him. She hadn't expected to, not for a minute, but she liked this formidable, irascible old man very much, even as she understood how he had come to be so feared and held in awe by his contemporaries.
It was at the end of the afternoon she spent with Hawk's grandfather, after he had taken her on a slow tour of his fifteen-bedroomed mansion and they had had tea in the sumptuous and stylish drawing room, that he mentioned Hawk again.
'My grandson is wealthy and powerful and often pursued by predatory women; you are aware of this, Joanne?' he asked mildly, straight after a conversation spent discussing his fine antiques. 'Some of them have a mind of sorts, others are nothing more than empty-headed dolls, but they all have one thing in common- a desire to be seen with, and bedded by, Hawk Mallen. You are not like that. You are aware Hawk wants you?'
She had learnt enough during the afternoon about this amazing old man not to duck the question, but her cheeks were pink as she replied, 'Yes, I know he wants me.'
'But you don't want him?'
He wasn't hostile, but Joanne still had to take a deep breath before she said, 'I…I don't think just wanting is necessarily enough, not without-without…'
'Yes?' He had moved forward in his chair, and now his voice was quiet and his eyes steady as he said, 'You can be honest with me, my dear, and you can also rest assured our conversation will go no further than these four walls. I will respect your confidence. What more is there beyond wanting?'
'Love,' Joanne murmured quietly, hot with embarrassment.
'Love. A small word but a big concept.' He leant back again, sighing deeply. 'I have loved two people in the whole of my life, Joanne; do you find that hard to believe?'
'No.'
She raised soft honey-brown eyes to his and he nodded slowly as he said, 'No, of course you don't; you have been hurt too.'
She waited, not knowing what to say, and after a minute had ticked by he said, 'I had an unhappy childhood, Joanne. I will not bother you with the details but suffice to say I did not love my parents. I met my wife when I was a nobody and she was a great lady, and we both knew instantly we were destined to be together. Her parents were horrified at the notion, obviously…' His voice was not bitter, merely matter-of-fact.
'She waited for me as I knew she would, and our marriage produced my son, Hawk's father, and took her life. I have often asked myself if my rage and bitterness at losing her so soon affected my relationship with my son, but I truly don't think so. I simply didn't like him. He was very like my own father in nature-cold, shallow, selfish-whereas Hawk's mother was a sweet girl, too sweet in retrospect. She allowed my son to get away with far too much.'
He paused, shifting his position in the chair again before he continued, 'I love my grandson, Joanne. I love him very much and I do not consider that emotion a weakness.'
'Hawk does.' She spoke before she could help herself, all her anguish and pain in the two words.
Jed looked at her for a few moments without speaking and then rose stiffly from the chair, standing with his back to her as he gazed into the leaping flames of the fire. 'I'm going to tell you a modern-day tale,' he said softly,
