No Need for Love Page 2

  ‘Let me try to understand this, Miss Lewis. Did I ask you to formulate an opinion of the case?’

  ‘You asked me to—to do something with it…’

  ‘Yes. Organise the file, perhaps. Write a précis.’ He smiled, almost kindly. ‘You are familiar with that word, aren’t you? You did hear it once or twice when you weren’t sleeping through your paralegal courses?’

  Hannah’s cheeks blazed. ‘Mr MacLean, if you’d just let me explain…’

  ‘Perhaps you’re a confidante of the delightful Mrs Gibbs?’

  ‘Certainly not.’

  ‘A psychologist, then?’

  Her cheeks pinkened. ‘I only meant——’

  ‘Or a fortune-teller.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Is that what you are, Miss Lewis?’

  ‘Mr MacLean, please——’

  ‘But you know the intricacies of this case.’

  ‘I didn’t mean to suggest——’

  ‘Of male-female relationships in general.’ His lips drew back from his teeth and he gave her a smile that would have done a shark proud. ‘It’s wonderful, the things they teach a paralegal nowadays.’

  Hannah stiffened. ‘It’s just common sense, sir. I read the file, and I was simply——’

  ‘Is it your sex that gives you such insight, the fact that you and the lady in question share similar genetic material?’ He leaned closer to her and she caught the scent of piney aftershave mingled with sharp male anger. ‘Or is it your vast experience in matrimonial law that makes you an expert?’

  All at once she shoved back her chair, hard enough so his hands fell away from it, and leaped to her feet.

  ‘You’re no expert, either,’ she said sharply. ‘When I took this job, they said your field was international law. But now—but now…’

  The fast, furious words ceased as rapidly as they’d begun. She looked at him in horror. What was she thinking of? She’d been acting crazy ever since she’d stepped into this office. This was Grant MacLean, this was her boss! This was the man whose signature was on her weekly pay cheque, whose orders she was supposed to obey…

  ‘You’re right.’

  Her mouth dropped open. ‘I—I beg your pardon?’

  MacLean gave her a tight smile. ‘I said, you’re right. About my expertise, or my lack of it. I only agreed to take this case because Gibbs is an old friend. I told him at the start to get a divorce lawyer, but he wouldn’t hear of it.’ He sighed. ‘Make a note, please, Miss Lewis. Remind me to telephone him first thing in the morning and tell him I’m resigning from the case. I’ll recommend someone else to him.’

  An apology, and the word ‘please’, all in the same breath. Hannah bent her head over her notepad. Just wait until Sally heard about——

  ‘The only thing I really know about marriage is that it’s invariably a mistake that people shouldn’t make more than once.’

  Hannah looked up. He was smiling politely. A peace offering, she thought, and smiled back.

  ‘We’re in complete agreement there.’

  A little frown of surprise creased his brow. ‘Is that the voice of experience talking?’

  She hesitated, then nodded. ‘I’m afraid it is.’

  ‘And your comment about Mrs Gibbs still loving her husband—was that the voice of experience talking, too?’

  Her eyes widened. ‘You mean, am I… ?’ She blew out her breath. ‘No,’ she said without hesitation, ‘it definitely was not.’

  Grant MacLean steepled his hands beneath his chin. ‘I see.’

  Hannah shrugged her shoulders. ‘The only thing I’d argue with is how a couple ends up at the altar.’

  He nodded. ‘Yes?’

  ‘I don’t think anyone leads anyone there, I just think they both fool themselves into thinking it’s a good idea.’

  MacLean chuckled as he leaned back against the desk and folded his arms over his chest.

  ‘And our Mrs Gibbs——’

  ‘—is still fooling herself. Yes, sir. I think so.’

  He nodded. ‘You think she wants to try and make a go of things, hmm? Very well, then. Make a note of that. I’ll tell Gibbs when I talk to him tomorrow.’ A moment passed, and then he cleared his throat. ‘Please, Miss Lewis, won’t you sit down?’

  Hannah sat down carefully and crossed her legs at the ankle, notepad and pencil at the ready, all too aware that she had survived a near-disaster. She’d come damnably close to getting herself fired. She’d given away more of herself than she usually did, as well, but that was understandable. Grant MacLean had surprised her with his sudden honesty and self-deprecation; it had elicited an exchange of truth on her part.

  Perhaps now they could get on better with each other. Perhaps he wouldn’t be quite so sharp-tempered. Hannah looked up, smiling—and the smile froze. MacLean was watching her with an intensity that was almost paralysing, as if—as if she were something pinned to a microscope slide.

  ‘Mr MacLean? Is something wrong?’

  He shook his head. ‘No, Miss Lewis. Quite the contrary. Everything is fine.’

  He didn’t look as if everything were fine, Hannah thought. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, then looked down quickly and opened her notebook.

  ‘I know you said you’re going to give up the case,’ she said. ‘But I did make some notes. Shall I type them up and——?’

  ‘Are you busy this evening, Miss Lewis?’

  Hannah blinked. ‘Busy?’ she said, looking up again. He was still watching her that same way, dammit, as if he were a scientist and she were a new and hitherto unidentified species of bacteria.

  ‘Yes.’ He smiled pleasantly. ‘Did you have plans, I mean?’

  ‘No, sir. I can work late, if you——’

  ‘Work?’ MacLean’s smile grew, until it was a grin, the first, she thought suddenly, that she’d ever seen on his face. ‘Well, yes, Miss Lewis, I suppose you could call it that.’ He leaned back against his desk, crossed his arms over his chest, and looked straight into her eyes. ‘You see, I’m in desperate need of your services tonight.’

  ‘Yes, sir. Will you be dictating, or——?’

  This time, he laughed aloud. But there was no sharpness to it, only a softness that made the laughter almost a purr, and it made the hair rise on the back of Hannah’s neck.

  ‘Miss Lewis. Hannah, I mean. I think, considering the circumstances, I should call you by your given name, don’t you?’

  Hannah took a deep breath. Something was happening here, something she didn’t understand, something—something dangerous.

  MacLean leaned away from the desk, then came slowly towards her and held out his hand. She stared at it in silence, then at him, and after a moment he reached out, clasped her fingers in his, and drew her to her feet.

  Then he smiled, and Hannah’s heart almost stopped beating, for the smile transformed him, turning him with blinding speed from the scourge of Longworth, Hart, Holtz and MacLean into an incredibly sexy male.

  ‘After all, sweetheart,’ he said softly, ‘only a damned fool would use such formal terms with his mistress.’

  CHAPTER TWO

  HANNAH stared into the grey eyes a scant few inches from hers. This was a joke, she thought crazily. Her boss was telling a joke with a long delay before the punchline.

  But that cocksure grin was still curved across his mouth, and all at once she knew that the only funny thing in this office was her foolishness in having told him that she was a divorced woman. Not that she hadn’t been down this road before. Many men thought women like her made easy targets—even, it seemed, a man like Grant MacLean, who had, she was quite certain, never until this moment even noticed that she was female.

  Her lip curled in disgust. ‘Let go of me,’ she demanded.

  One dark brow rose in a questioning curve. ‘Of course,’ he said, his hand falling away from hers.

  She clasped the wrist he’d held and rubbed at the skin as if she were trying to eradicate his fingerprints. ‘Just who do you think you are?’ she said in
a low, furious voice.

  MacLean stared at her, perplexed, and then, suddenly, he began to smile.

  ‘Miss Lewis—Hannah—I think you’ve misunderstood me.’

  ‘No. I haven’t misunderstood you at all, Mr MacLean. But you’ve certainly misunderstood me.’ Her eyes met his. ‘I am not the least bit interested in your—your proposition.’

  His smile broadened. ‘Let me explain before you——’

  ‘You’re wasting your time.’

  ‘I don’t think so, Hannah.’

  ‘Believe me, you are.’ She stared at him a second longer, then turned and marched stiffly to the door. ‘If that’s all, sir,’ she said, flinging the word like an insult over her shoulder, ‘I’ll go back to my office and finish my work on the——’

  ‘Hannah, dammit, wait a minute!’

  ‘—the Gibbs case.’ Her hand closed on the doorknob and she yanked it open. ‘I’ll print out my notes and leave them on your desk before—’

  He came up behind her with an amazing swiftness for a man of his size, and the knob was wrenched from her hand as he slammed the door shut.

  ‘Open that door,’ she said. Her voice shook a little, not so much with fear as with righteous indignation. How dared he? How dared he? ‘Dammit, Mr MacLean——’

  ‘You’re being a fool, Miss Lewis.’

  The humour had fled his voice. His tone was sharp, his grasp unyielding as he caught her by the shoulders and hauled her around to face him. Hannah met his cold gaze with one of her own.

  ‘Stop now,’ she said quietly, ‘and I’ll forget this ever happened.’

  MacLean’s eyes narrowed. ‘Didn’t anyone ever teach you that it can be dangerous to make threats?’

  ‘Or do you prefer that I report you?’

  ‘Listen here, young woman——’

  ‘No, sir, you listen here. I am not interested in—in fun and games, do you understand? I’m not interested in destroying your career, either, but if you persist in…’ Her words faded to silence. He was smiling again. Smiling, damn him! ‘I assure you,’ she said through her teeth, ‘there’s nothing funny about this.’

  ‘Fantastic,’ he said softly. ‘Five months of “Yes, Mr MacLean, no, Mr Maclean,” five months and never another word out of you, and now here you are, threatening to bring the roof down on my head.’

  ‘And I will, if you don’t——’

  ‘I am not trying to seduce you.’

  Colour stole into Hannah’s cheeks. ‘I can hardly disagree with that,’ she said. ‘Seduction is supposed to be subtle, but this approach of yours is——’

  ‘Thank you for the clarification, Miss Lewis. I’m sure it will prove useful in my relationships with women. Now, if you’d just pay attention to me for a minute——’

  ‘I’ll count to three,’ she said, folding her arms over her breasts, ‘and then——’

  ‘Shall I put it more bluntly?’

  ‘You’ve been blunt enough. If I were you——’

  ‘If you were me,’ he said, his tone frigid, ‘you would know that you are the last woman on earth I’d ask to be my mistress, Miss Lewis.’

  ‘One. Two. Th…’ Suddenly, his words penetrated. She stared at him. ‘What?’

  His smile vanished; his brows drew together in a harsh frown. ‘You’re my assistant, for God’s sake. You’re not a woman.’

  The breath puffed from Hannah’s lungs. ‘Oh,’ she said, her voice small and puzzled.

  MacLean nodded. ‘All I’m interested in,’ he said, stroking his finger across his chin, ‘is a bit of harmless deception.’

  She shook her head in confusion. ‘I—I don’t understand.’

  He turned and strode across the room. When he reached the windows, he rocked back on his heels, stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets, and paid rapt attention to the view.

  ‘I’ve a party to attend this evening.’

  ‘Yes, I know. The reception for the principals in the Hungarian deal. I noted it on your calendar myself.’

  ‘An hour of ridiculous chit-chat,’ he said coldly, ‘fuelled by pricey champagne that flows like water and enough canapés to feed an army, then a five-course meal catered by Julia Childs’ latest guru, all interspersed with a dozen turns around the dance-floor…’

  Hannah couldn’t help but smile. ‘How terrible for you.’

  MacLean swung towards her. His scowl had deepened so that there were two harsh curves rimming his mouth.

  ‘I’m sure my distress stirs your heart, Miss Lewis. But I assure you, it will be a horrible few hours. Oh, I can survive the food and the drinks, I suppose, and the dance band. But an evening of Magda Karolyi…’ A shudder went through him. ‘God, that’s more than any man should have to bear!’

  ‘Magda Karolyi?’ It sounded like an exotic dessert, but from the look on her boss’s face it was bound to be more than that.

  ‘The sister of the head of the Hungarian group. We met in Budapest last year, when I was there putting this deal together.’

  ‘Mr MacLean.’ Hannah cleared her throat. ‘This is all very interesting, sir. But——’

  ‘She’s a very attractive woman.’ A slow wave of colour beat up under the tanned skin that lay across his high cheekbones. ‘And she’s—she’s taken an interest in me.’

  Hannah stared at him. ‘She’s taken an…?’

  ‘Dammit,’ he snarled, ‘must I spell it out? The bloody woman did everything but crawl into my bed in Budapest. Avoiding her was like walking a tightrope; I only got away with it because I kept claiming I was too busy with meetings and planning sessions to—to accommodate.’ His eyes flashed to Hannah’s, the coldness in them daring her to so much as smile, but she was far too amazed that he should reveal all this about himself to reaet with anything but rapt attention. ‘She’s the apple of her brother’s eye.’

  ‘The brother who’s in charge of——’

  ‘Yes.’ MacLean blew out his breath. ‘If she’s not happy, he’s not happy.’

  ‘Are you saying that—that he’ll expect you to—to…?’

  ‘No, of course not! He won’t “expect” me to do anything—except be nice to her. Pleasant. Gracious.’ His mouth twisted. ‘All the things one human being generally tries to be to another.’

  Hannah held out her hands. ‘Well, then, I don’t see…’

  ‘The trouble is that Magda is sure to misinterpret everything and anything—including the fact that I’m going to show up at this damned party without a woman on my arm.’

  ‘Then why will you? I mean, why didn’t you ask someone to go with you?’

  ‘Dammit, Miss Lewis, what do you take me for? I’m not a fool!’ He turned and paced from one end of the pale Berber carpet to the other, spine ramrod-straight, shoulders taut. ‘I had a date for this evening. But—but the lady and I have decided not to see each other for a while.’ Hannah said nothing, and the colour in his face darkened. ‘Our relationship had become—complicated.’

  ‘Like the Magda Karolyi thing?’ she said, staring at him.

  ‘No! Not at all.’ His glare was formidable. ‘Why is it women who start out claiming they are not interested in permanency so often are?’

  ‘Ah.’ Hannah nodded. ‘I see.’

  ‘The point is,’ he said coldly, ‘it’s left me in an awkward position. I have no choice but to attend this evening’s function, but I’ve no wish to do it alone.’ There was a dramatic pause. ‘And that’s where you come in.’

  She stared at him. You arrogant bastard, she thought…

  ‘You want me to go to this party with you.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘And pretend that we’re—involved.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Hannah gave a sharp little laugh. ‘I’m sorry, Mr MacLean, but it’s out of the question.’

  ‘Why?’ The black scowl darkened his face again. ‘Why is it out of the question?’

  ‘What do you mean, why? It—it just is.’

  ‘That’s not a reason, that’s
a statement.’

  ‘I should think it’s obvious,’ she said. ‘Deception like that——’

  ‘I’d be the one doing the lying, not you. All you’d have to do is smile and say hello, drink some champagne and eat some of that damned stuff they call food at these overblown bashes. What’s so difficult about that?’

  Hannah stared at him. How could he ask her such a question? And why should she want to make a fool of some woman she’d never even met? He made it sound as if he’d been an innocent in all this, but that didn’t mean anything.

  ‘What’s the problem, Miss Lewis? Don’t you believe me? I tell you, the woman’s trouble with a short fuse.’

  And she was interested in Grant MacLean. That Hannah could believe. He was a good-looking man, she had to give him that. If you weren’t working for him, enduring his demands and his drive for perfection, he was probably a rather interesting male—if you liked the type.

  ‘Well?’ His voice was sharp. ‘What do you say?’

  She looked up. She had already said it, but it was clear that he had no intention of listening to any answer but the one he wanted. He was watching her through narrowed eyes, arms folded across his chest, mouth set in a taut, narrow line. It was a sight she’d seen before, during meetings with important clients and their sometimes intractable opponents. The authoritative tone, the determined posture, even the cool, never-wavering set of those glacial grey eyes, all worked together to achieve his goal.

  But Hannah wasn’t about to be intimidated. She had absolutely no intention of being part of his little game. If he was really having a problem with Magda Karolyi, it was up to him to get out of it on his own.

  ‘The party’s at the Mark Hopkins. Have you ever been there?’

  Hannah shook her head. ‘No, no, I haven’t.’

  ‘It’s a handsome place, Hannah. You’ll like it.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure I will. I mean, I’m sure I would, if—’

  ‘I’ll send you home by taxi, when the evening ends.’

  ‘Mr MacLean, there’s really no point in——’

  ‘If it’s the idea of pretending we’re intimate that bothers you——’

  ‘It isn’t that.’ Their eyes met, and colour flooded her cheeks. ‘Well, it is, but that’s only part of——’