'You're mad.' Joanne realised she had been holding her breath as the gravelly male voice had woven a sensual spell which had enclosed the two of them in their own little world. 'I just wore my hair up because it looks better with this dress-'
'Oh, don't spoil it.' He wasn't smiling but the devilish eyes were alight with amusement.
'Now, look.' She took a long, deep, hard breath and forced herself to get control. This was ridiculous; somehow everything had got out of hand and she wasn't at all sure how it had happened, but one thing she did know was that Hawk Mallen was playing with her like a cat with a mouse. She didn't believe for one moment he was attracted to her-how could a multi-millionaire of the calibre of this one be interested in a little nobody like her? It didn't add up-not for one minute, and she wasn't stupid whatever he thought, and she'd tell him so right now. 'You assured me this afternoon that we were meeting for a purpose, that this wasn't a…'
'Date?' he supplied helpfully.
'Yes.' And if he interrupted her again he'd have a cup of coffee tipped over his head. 'So we've eaten and danced and done the social chit-chat bit, and now I'd really like to know why you have brought me here tonight.'
'You don't think it's because I wanted to know you better, because I'm interested in you?' he asked expressionlessly.
He'd read her mind again, and she had the uneasy feeling he hadn't found it hard to do. Was she really so transparent? she asked herself silently. She didn't think anyone else thought so; in fact, Charles had often praised what he called her 'poker face', which gave nothing away whatever the circumstances.
'Mr Mallen-' she couldn't call him Hawk, she just couldn't '-you could doubtless have your pick of most of London's finest so the answer to that is no.'
'London's finest.' He nodded thoughtfully. 'I see.'
'So?' She forced a smile. 'If you don't mind?'
He stared at her for a good thirty seconds, his blue eyes shadowed and intent as they searched her face, and then he settled back in his seat, stretching slightly before he said, 'Right, down to business. I don't need you at Concise Publications, Joanne-' her heart gave a big leap and then thudded loudly '-but from all I've heard and read and seen I think you would be an asset to the Mallen Corporation. I intend to bring in a new managing director for Concise Publications; I've already approached the man and he's accepted my offer and he'll bring his own publishing assistant with him; they've worked together for years.'
She nodded slowly. So he had never intended to take on the job permanently? She should have guessed, really; Concise Publications was just a tiny little cog in the vast machine of the Mallen empire.
'Are you interested enough for me to continue?' His voice was cool and flat; suddenly he was one hundred per cent remote tycoon and businessman, the wickedly mocking, charming dinner companion having evaporated like the morning mist.
Was she? She stared at him hard, and then nodded again. 'Yes, please,' she said quietly.
The blue eyes flickered, just once, and she would have given the world to know what was going on in that rapier-sharp, ruthless mind.
'Six months ago the Mallen Corporation acquired a publishing house in France, part of Mallen Books; were you aware of this?' She shook her head quickly. 'The undertaking was unusual in that my grandfather had decided to bale the owner out, and if you knew my grandfather you would understand why I say that He is first and foremost a businessman and age has not mellowed him one iota.'
She caught the thread of affection in his voice which he was trying to hide and looked at him intently.
'The owner was the son of my grandfather's best friend who died some years ago; he actually helped my grandfather financially when they were young, something my grandfather's never forgotten. However, the son has lost thousands, if not tens of thousands, over the last decade through mismanagement and so on, and the firm is a shambles.' The cool voice was scathing. 'My grandfather wanted the family name to continue in honour to his friend; he also decided to keep the son at the helm… Bad mistake.'
He glanced at her now and the blue eyes were as hard as glass. 'The kindest thing you could say about this guy is that he's a Jonah, and that's the information I've relayed to my grandfather. The truth of the matter is that he's been on the take for years; he's the very antithesis of his father. My grandfather is very ill-' Her eyes widened and he nodded slowly. 'Terminal, but I'd appreciate you keeping that to yourself. He doesn't need this bag of worms dumping in his lap, and for some reason his normally acute judgement is faulty where this guy is concerned. He wants to believe the best of him; he's all that's left of his old friend.'
'What are you going to do?' she asked quietly. He loved his grandfather very much; try as he might, the cold, clipped voice and exp
ressionless face couldn't hide the look in his eyes, and it touched her. She didn't want it to, but it did.
'I've done it,' he said flatly. 'Pierre is boss in name only now; he's been paid off, and handsomely, and he's quite happy with that. He's got a string of mistresses to support apart from his family and expensive habits; the firm was just an inconvenience to him. But now I want to pull it round, for my grandfather and also his old friend, who was an honourable man. That's where you would come in.'
'Me?' She couldn't think where.
'You've been in publishing since you left university, you have no personal commitments or distractions, and you don't mind working until the job is done. Added to that, Charles tells me your contribution, certainly over the last three or four years, was the one that brought the money in. He'd lost it-the insight, the business intuition-'
'No!' she protested hotly.
'That's what he told me, Joanne,' Hawk said steadily. 'Now, your personnel file tells me you speak French, right?'
'I do, but…well, I'm rusty and-'
'That's no problem.' He dismissed her stumbling voice with an irritable wave of his hand. 'You can easily brush up on that.'
'What exactly are you offering me?' she asked dazedly. In all her wildest dreams-or nightmares-she hadn't expected this. 'Who would I be publishing assistant to?' She knew it was him but she had to ask anyway, and that would be the end of what sounded like the offer of a lifetime in an industry that was known for its dog-eat-dog ruthlessness.
'Publishing assistant?' He stared at her, and then shook his black head slowly, his eyes piercing her through with clear light. 'I'm not offering you a publishing assistant's job, Joanne. I want you to manage the firm for me, turn it around, make it work.'