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'Not till you agree to spend the weekend with me,' he said firmly. 'I can stay like this all afternoon; I'm enjoying it.' There was swollen evidence to prove he meant what he said, his hard body stirring against the soft swell of her stomach even as he spoke, and making her legs feel weak at his alien masculinity.
'What…what do you mean by 'spend the weekend'?' she asked breathlessly, fighting against the urge to arch against his maleness, and then betraying her arousal helplessly with a tiny moan as one large hand stroked a sensual path from her throat to her waist, lingering possessively on the swell of one ripe breast.
'I want to show you France, my suspicious little siren.' He moved her slightly from him in order to look down into her flushed face. 'Although I can be persuaded otherwise,' he added softly. 'My hotel room has the biggest double bed you've ever seen-'
'Hawk!'
'Okay, okay.' His eyes crinkled as he gave the devastating smile he used so rarely, and she felt the impact right down to her toes. 'I promise I'll behave; how about that? No petting, no lovemaking-just a weekend spent in each other's company. I'm leaving for the States again first thing Monday morning and I know the next couple of weeks are going to be the very devil. I just wanted to be with you, Joanne; that's the top and bottom of it.'
It might have been calculated, he might be being manipulative again, but she couldn't struggle against the overwhelming desire to be with him when he looked at her like that And he had promised…
'All right.' She felt such a burst of happiness that she wanted to press herself into him and pull his head down to hers, and to fight that impulse she quickly stepped back a pace, purposely forcing his hands to drop to his sides. 'But a promise is a promise,' she warned shakily. 'And you've promised no lovemaking.'
'And you'll keep me to mine, no doubt,' he drawled wryly. 'I always thought women were the weaker sex, but since meeting you I've had to change my mind. I certainly chose well in Bergique & Son's new manager, if you deal with Pierre half as sternly as you deal with me, the poor guy won't know what's hit him.'
It was said mockingly, his eyes laughing at her, but a little chill crept into her heart as she turned away towards her desk. She wanted to be with him because she loved him; it might be foolish, crazy, but that was how it was. But Hawk? Hawk didn't know the meaning of the word love, and she forgot that at her peril. He wanted her body, he perhaps wanted an agent in the nest of vipers he had uncovered too, but anything permanent, with any sort of future? No chance.
The weekend began on the Friday night with a wonderful wander through the colourful streets, boulevards and cobblestone lanes, under a dark moonlit sky that had banished even the smallest rain cloud. The beautiful city, with its hundreds of statues, museums, countless churches, fountains and squares, narrowed down to one tall, dark, handsome man for Joanne, and a pair of piercingly blue, riveting eyes. Everything else faded into oblivion.
They ate at one of the many restaurants dotted around the streets of the gourmet capital, where taste, like the other senses, was taken so seriously. The restaurant was small and nondescript from the outside, and the interior wasn't much better, but the food was out of this world.
They feasted on crudités variées, a mixture of raw vegetables with oil and vinegar, followed by steak au poivre which melted in the mouth, and was ably enhanced by the excellent champagne Hawk had ordered. The dessert-un mystére, which turned out to be vanilla ice-cream with meringue in the middle and chopped nuts on the outside-was perfect to follow the steak, and when Joanne accepted a second helping Hawk couldn't hide his surprise at her appetite.
'You said I was too thin,' she reminded him drily as she lifted her spoon and prepared to attack the delicious concoction. 'You ought to be pleased.'
'I am, oh, I am,' he assured her gravely, 'but I did not say you were too thin. You looked weary, that was all.'
Weary? Heart-sore, bone-achingly sad, perhaps, she thought painfully. I'm fine.' She beamed at him, determined to give nothing away. It's just been hectic, that's all, and I've needed to be fully alert at all times.' But never so much as now. 'There are one or two things I need to discuss with you, incidentally; we are going to have to reschedule-'
'Not now.' He interrupted her with a lazily raised hand that was none the less authoritative. 'The weekend is ours; Monday morning is soon enough for you to once again become the super-efficient career woman Bergique & Son know and love.'
'I don't know about the love,' she said wryly. Over the last few weeks she had been pleased to discover she was being treated with respect-grudging respect in some quarters-by her staff, and there were several now whom she liked, and who she felt liked her, but it had been an uphill struggle.
Since the incident with Pierre in her office, Antoinette had fallen into line, the sulkiness disappearing as though by magic and the girl appearing, to all intents and purposes, to be fully committed to her new boss. But… And there was a big 'but', Joanne thought pensively. She didn't trust the beautiful French girl, not one little bit. The turn-around had been too quick and too complete- something smelt fishy.
'I said Monday morning is soon enough to think of work.' Hawk's voice was a little put out and Joanne suddenly realised she was staring into space, and that it was highly likely Hawk didn't have too many women do that in his presence. She was surprised she had, to be honest, but the creepy, goose-pimply unease she had been feeling for days, if not weeks, had momentarily intruded into the evening and absorbed her in its shadow.
'Sorry.' In view of all the humiliation and pain she had suffered through him she couldn't resist adding, 'I was daydreaming,' as she gave him a cheerfully innocent smile.
'Charming.' The sapphire gaze was penetrating, but he smiled back. 'You believe in keeping your men humble, is that it?'
Humble? Hawk Mallen? The raw sexuality and powerful aura didn't lend themselves to humbleness, she thought breathlessly as the devastating smile did its usual damage to her equilibrium. In fact you might as well have asked the fierce bird of prey from whom he had taken his name to be humble, as the big dark man watching her so closely.
'I don't have men in the plural,' she prevaricated sweetly, knowing her colour was high. 'As you well know.'
'And heartily approve of,' he said solemnly. 'I think one man is more than enough for you, and, funnily enough, I know just the man…'
That evening was the beginning of the most wildly happy two days she had ever known, and, amazingly, Hawk kept his promise-apart from the odd lingering kiss he assured her didn't count.
He picked her up from her apartment on Saturday morning very early, but already the November day was promising that the rain of the last week was a thing of the past, as it allowed a cold but bright sunshine to bathe everything in its light.
The sports car Hawk had hired for the weekend was lean and low and fairly ate up the miles as it headed towards the medieval majesty of Burgundy, passing Cistercian abbeys, dignified towns of stone, fortified hilltop villages and wonderful roaming countryside, on its way to Dijon.
They ate lunch at a charming little hostellerie, and the toasted ham and cheese sandwiches, followed by barquettes au marron-pastry boats loaded with almond paste, chestnut cream, and sealed in with milk chocolate on one side and coffee icing on the other-were sublime. But anything would have tasted sublime-because she was with Hawk. And it frightened her. Frightened, exhilarated, excited, but mostly frightened. Because it would end. It had to.
They reached Dijon just after one in the afternoon- Joanne having insisted they stop and wander round one of the towns on their way-and the once-capital of the Flemish-Burgundian state was at its regal best in the bright sunshine.
'An afternoon of improving your mind?' Hawk asked lazily, after they had parked at the edge of a delightfully ancient little market-place, where Hawk bought them both the most enormous ice-creams. 'We can visit the Musée des Beaux-Arts, and perhaps you would like to see the Well of Moses? It is a very powerful sculpture, very moving.'
