Read Hawk's Haven for Free Online Page A

delicate eyebrow. "Are you sure you can trust a pale face to make a truce and not break it?"
    "No," he said simply. "But in your case, I'll risk it."
    After a long deliberating pause, she nodded. "Okay. A truce. It shouldn't be that hard to keep since we won't be seeing much of each other."
    He bit his bottom lip to keep from grinning. Why spoil the day for her? She would learn soon enough that he planned to take a few weeks off around the time of the Strawberry Thanksgiving. Not that her presence had anything to do with canceling his original plans of a European vacation. He still had a lot of work to do on the house.
    "Do you need anything before I leave?"
    Gillian shook her head. She swayed and fell into the chair behind her.
    "Is something wrong?" he asked.
    "I felt dizzy for a second.” Her face had paled to a pasty white.
    He stepped closer and placed his palm against her cheek. She tensed but his hand remained until he satisfied himself that her temperature was normal.
    Her stomach rumbled and she winced.
    "When was the last time you ate?" Hawk asked.
    She lowered her head and muttered, "I don't remember."
    "Give me a day.” He barked out his demand more harshly than he intended. Was she trying to make herself ill?  
    "Yesterday."
    Another wave of guilt washed over him. He’d just come from having lunch with his sister without giving a thought to the fact that there was no food in the house. He should have had the courtesy to ask her if she wanted to stop at the supermarket before dropping her off.
    "I'll drive you to the store."
    Chin held high, she pulled herself to her feet. "I can walk.”  
    His gaze moved to her hand, clutching the arm of the chair for support. "You can't even stand up."
     
    * * * *
     
    Shopping with Hawk was an exercise in frustration. The handful of fresh strawberries he’d picked for her to eat in the car, gave her the strength to put back the items he kept tossing in her cart. Finally, she threatened to make a public scene if he didn't wait for her in the car.
    Aunt June had once told her that a careful shopper could survive on ten dollars a week in hard times, and Gillian was forced to test that theory. A package of hot dogs could last her a week, as would the free box of whole wheat cereal included with any five dollar purchase. Canned vegetables were bland, but filling and cheap. Her only extravagance was fresh fruit for lunches. When she finished, she had two bags of food and change from her ten dollars.
    Hawk refused to leave until she ate her dinner. Unable to physically remove him, she was forced to put up with his presence. And in truth, she didn't mind the company. She’d a long, lonely week ahead of her. When she sat at the table, he joined her.
    "It's hardly the fine cuisine you're used to, is it?" he asked.
    She looked over her dinner and shrugged. "What do you mean? I have tube-steak au gratin, pommes friet, gherkins marinated in light dill brine and for the palate, someth ing in a dry white, vintage 2012 ."
    His brow raised in a dubious arch. "Forgive me, my working class roots. It looks like a cheese dog, potato chips, pickles and a glass of milk."
    Gillian smiled. "What would you know, anyway? There's nothing classy about being rich. Class is a matter of attitude that has no basis in reality. How else would we manage to eat snails with a smile and not complain about the price?"
    He laughed. A deep, rich laugh that held none of his usual mocking tone. "I never thought of it that way."
    "No, because you choose to buy into the illusion; if it costs a lot it must be worth more.” She took a bite of her hot dog and relished the taste. "Ambrosia. I could live on this, and probably will."
    Deep lines creased his forehead, and then as if he’d received some great revelation, the corners of his mouth turned down in a curious frown. "You don't have any money, do you?"
    "What an absurd question.” Her words sounded forced even to her own ears.
    "No it's not. Your father told