Mistletoe Mistress

'Oh, please…' Her voice was sarcastic but she couldn't help smiling back, even as the warning bells began to ring loud and hard. He was dangerous, so, so dangerous, and never more than now, when he was wielding that powerful magnetism for his own purposes, his eyes merciless as they took in her flushed confusion. She ought to tell him she was tired, that it had been one hell of a day, that she needed time alone to sort out the muddle of her thoughts, all of which would be true.

But she wasn't going to-her eyes darkened at her stupidity-because she wanted to be with him for a few minutes more. She wanted to have him to herself, to know that he was concentrating on her and her alone. He didn't love her, she knew that, but she h

ad spelt out the rules of play loud and clear that morning, and if he still wanted to spend time in her company, knowing how she felt, surely that was all right? She was trying to justify herself against the accusing voice in her head telling her she was playing with fire, even as she acknowledged she had no defence.

Hawk slid aside the glass partition separating them from the driver, giving the address of her apartment before explaining their change of plan and then settling back comfortably in his seat.

She was vaguely aware of the street cafés, elegant architecture and unmistakable ambience which was Paris as the car bowled along wide boulevards, but the excitement, the magic, was all enclosed within the car for Joanne.

It was utter madness, the worst sort of foolishness, to fall for a man like Hawk Mallen, she acknowledged desperately, her heart thudding a tattoo as the electricity within the car became frightening; but if he didn't know, surely she was safe? He thought she was merely attracted to him on a physical level, he'd made that plain, so all she had to do was maintain the principles she'd set that morning. Simple really…

The apartment was situated in the north of Paris, in Montmartre, which seemed to Joanne very much a little village in its own right Although the bustling centre was a hive of activity, the area in the north-east where her modern apartment block stood, shaded by large trees, was more quiet, with an abundance of green parkland and sleepy museums.

'I thought you would prefer something restful to come home to after a hard day's work,' Hawk said quietly as the driver unloaded her luggage and Hawk's overnight bag from the limousine, 'and La Villette is one of the gentler spots in Paris.'

'It's lovely.' Joanne managed a smile as Hawk sent the driver on his way and picked up all the luggage, a bag under each arm and suitcases in either hand, before leading the way through the paved garden with fountain and up the five broad steps to the front door.

The concierge was there immediately they stepped into the elegant foyer, a small dapper man who was all smiles and teeth. 'Monsieur Mallen, Mademoiselle Crawford, welcome, welcome.' The high, excited voice matched his appearance, and he barely paused for breath before saying, 'Everything is ready as you requested, Monsieur Mallen; I am sure Mademoiselle Crawford will be most comfortable, but if these is anything I can do, anything at all…'

'Merci.' Hawk was polite but firm. 'I'm sure Mademoiselle Crawford will call if she needs you, Gerard. There is no need to accompany us; I have the key.'

'But the cases, Monsieur-'

'No problem.' Hawk cut short the anguished protest by the simple expedient of pushing a folded note in the little man's hand before striding purposefully to the lift, Joanne following in his wake.

'Merci, Monsieur Mallen, merci beaucoup.'

It had clearly been a generous tip, Joanne reflected wryly as the concierge continued to beam rapturously while Hawk placed their luggage in the lift and drew Joanne in beside him, the little man only turning to prance away as the lift doors began to close. And then a sudden thought struck her. 'You seem to know your way around,' she said suspiciously. 'Have you been here before?'

'Of course.' The vivid blue eyes with their thick black lashes looked straight at her as he said, 'You didn't think I would take an apartment for you without checking it out first?'

'You?' She realised her mouth was open and shut it with a little snap.

'Yes, me.' He smiled lazily. 'I had Antoinette do the donkey work and narrow it down to three suitable places from which I chose this one.'

'I see.' And she did. This, then, was to be his love-nest in France, and no doubt there were others in different parts of the world, perhaps with other 'manageresses' keeping them warm? 'Why?'

'Because it was the most suitable.' He knew that wasn't what she had meant-she could tell so from the sardonic gleam in his eyes-but short of asking him outright if he had an ulterior motive in looking over her new home she couldn't say much more. But she didn't like this; she didn't like it at all, she thought silently.

'Gerard lives on the ground floor just off the foyer,' Hawk continued evenly, 'and nothing much gets past him. I like that.' The lift slid to a halt and he bent to pick up the cases again as he added, 'You can't be too careful in this day and age.'

Indeed you can't, she thought tightly as she glanced at the black head, the short, springy hair shining with virile health. But her concern was less in the nature of a possible intruder than the man a foot or so away from her, who had turned her life upside down and inside out over the last few weeks.

'Stop frowning and come and see your new abode.'

She opened her mouth to say she wasn't frowning as he straightened, but then realised she was and hastily smoothed her features as the piercing gaze came her way again.

They stepped from the lift into ankle-deep carpeting, and as Hawk moved across the small cream-coloured square of space to the front door, setting down the cases and inserting a key in the lock, she stared about her bewilderedly. 'Where are all the other apartments?'

'There is one on each floor, five in all,' Hawk said easily. 'This is the top one to give you more of a view.'

'Hawk-'

But he had already stepped into the apartment and she had no choice but to follow him in. It was the last word in luxury, and immediately the concierge's fawning behaviour became clear. This wasn't the sort of place normal people, like her, lived in, she thought helplessly. This was way out of her league, job or no job. She could never afford this-

'Do you like it?' He was watching her face very carefully although in her shock she wasn't aware of it.

'Like it?' The room they had entered was an elegant drawing room in pale blue and yellow which seemed to stretch endlessly-impressive, beautiful, with dark wood furniture and a beautiful suite, TV, hi-fi, bar… 'I can't afford this, Hawk, you know that,' she said tightly, anger curling through her stomach.