'Hawk-'
'And don't make any excuses; I really couldn't take them tonight.'
He was gone before she could say anything more.
CHAPTER NINE
'So you're the Joanne Crawford I've been hearing so much about?'
It wasn't quite the opening line Joanne had imagined, and she found herself staring at Jed Mallen for a few moments before she collected herself and took the hand he was holding out for her to shake.
'Good afternoon, Mr Mallen,' she said politely, her heart beating a tattoo that was mercifully hidden from the bright blue eyes so like his grandson's, the direct, intent gaze seeming as though it wanted to get inside her head. 'I'm very pleased to meet you.'
'Likewise.' He had risen at her approach into the room, but now sat down again, saying almost irritably, 'Sit down, sit down, young woman; don't stand on ceremony.'
'Thank you.' She did as he bid but was unable to stop the colour from flooding into her cheeks. She hadn't known what to expect on meeting Hawk's grandfather- probably a bent old man who was showing the ravages of the illness he was battling against, if she had thought about it at all-but Jed Mallen was still tall and upright, virile almost, with a shock of springy white hair above a face that was handsome in spite of the lines of pain radiating 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 are different.'
'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 of
fer 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.'