'I came by taxi.' His eyes glinted wickedly.
'And you didn't think to ask it to wait?' she murmured sarcastically. 'How fortunate I suggested you stay.'
'I had faith in your compassion.' He smiled slowly. 'Where's the corkscrew?'
She gave up. He couldn't be shamed; she should have known-he was impossible!
'Here.' She opened a drawer and gave hi
m the corkscrew. 'But it's just dinner, okay? I'm as tired as you are and I need my bed.'
'I need your bed, Joanne,' he said, with a ridiculously lewd expression that was supposed to make her laugh.
It did, but it also sent her heart thudding as a cold clear warning hit her brain. Don't forget, he's never more dangerous than when he's amusing and charming, like now. You've no defence against this man but he doesn't know that, so play it cool and keep things easy.
The red wine was mellow and fruity, the sort that tasted of a thousand summer days and must have cost a small fortune. With Hawk perched on a breakfast stool watching her while she worked, preparing a salad to go with the steaks, Joanne consumed two glasses without even being aware of it, until her head became a little muzzy and she found herself giggling at something he said.
'I think I need some food.' She took a couple of raw mushrooms and popped them into her mouth, one by one. 'What on earth's in that wine anyway?'
'Just grapes and sugar and-'
'You know what I mean,' she admonished gravely. 'You aren't trying to get me tipsy, are you?'
'Would I?' The sapphire-blue eyes were laughing at her and it should have mattered-but it didn't.
She nodded solemnly, but then, in the next moment, he had taken the salad bowl and set it to one side, folding her into his body without saying a word.
Joanne's mistake was in opening her mouth to protest, because he simply seized the chance to plunder it, his tongue sending tremors of desire into every nerve and sinew.
He had already taken off his jacket and tie, his shirt open at the neck, and as her palms pressed against his chest she could feel the prickle of dark body hair under the silk and the combination was unbearably erotic.
'You're beautiful, Joanne, just beautiful,' he whispered softly as his mouth nibbled at her lower lip. 'You've no idea what you do to me.'
She had, oh, she had, if it was just a fraction of what he did to her, she thought helplessly.
'I could eat you alive, do you know that?' His mouth moved to her earlobe and she thought she would die. 'Every single inch of you.' His hand covered her breast, caressing it slowly through the thin cotton of the T-shirt she had changed into, and immediately the tip flowered beneath his expert fingers, aching and ripe.
She arched against him, her hands going up to his shoulders as she pressed herself against the hardness of his body, and then, as a sizzle and a splutter from the grill touched her senses, she jerked away, her voice agitated. 'The steaks! I can't burn the steaks on my first night here; what would Madame Lemoine think?'
'Damn Madame Lemoine.' But he let her move away and rescue the food, settling himself back on his stool as he purposefully poured them both another glass of wine, although Joanne determined not to have another drop until she had eaten.
They ate at the tiny dining-room table that was barely big enough for two, and Joanne made sure the third glass of wine lasted until dessert, a wonderful chocolate mousse piped with thick fresh cream that tasted divine.
'That was absolutely gorgeous.' She was licking her spoon clear of even the faintest trace of chocolate as she spoke and raised her eyes to see Hawk's narrowed gaze resting slumberously on her face.
'You look like a contented little cat,' he said huskily. 'I can almost hear you purr.'
'I love chocolate mousse,' she admitted with a faintly embarrassed smile. 'It's so decadent.'
'What else do you love, Joanne?' he asked softly. 'Do you realise I don't know the first thing about you besides the black and white information in your personnel folder? What music do you like? What books do you read? Talk to me.'
Talking was safer than not talking, and so she talked, guardedly at first, and then more freely after Hawk opened the second bottle of wine. And he responded in kind, telling her about his childhood, his youth, and then his desire to carve out a name for himself beyond that of Jed Mallen's grandson. The room was intimate and shadowed, lit only by the glow of the standard lamp in one corner, Hawk having turned the main light off before they ate, and Joanne was just thinking things were a sight too cosy for her peace of mind when Hawk said, 'Time I was making tracks.'
'What?'
His voice had been easy, cool, and she didn't feel like that; in fact she felt far from it He had been leaning back in his seat for the last half an hour, his arms crossed over the broad expanse of his big muscled chest, and the open shirt collar displaying a hard tanned throat and the beginnings of black curling body hair. The silky material of his shirt seemed to emphasise rather than diminish his magnetic masculinity, and, try as she might, she had been struggling to dispel the thought of what he would look like without it for the last little while-and failing miserably. He looked darkly brooding, his Italian genes very much to the fore, and tough, and sexy, and…
'It's been a long day and you said you were tired,' he said softly.