Best Of Makeovers Bundle Part 41

"Then you'll understand what the word private means," he said tersely.

She didn't say another word, simply focused on the road, but a flush rose into her cheeks.

Gary was watching him, waiting for his decision. Irritated beyond words to have to give credence to her unlooked-for advice, Marc shook his head.

"Check with legal, but we'll have to a.s.sume we've got no more time. Hand the McPherson project over to one of the others, all of it, and concentrate on Sum until the end of the week. We'll review things then."

Gary nodded, and started dialing on his phone again.

Marc sat back in his seat, his whole body tense with frustration. Irrationally, most of it was directed at the ex-lawyer-turned-chauffeur sitting not four feet away. She didn't write the laws, or enforce them, but it didn't stop him from wanting to place the blame for this latest setback on her shoulders.

It didn't help that her skirt had ridden up once more, and a swath of black lace was again on show. His body quickened in response to the sensual display, but he very deliberately angled himself so that he couldn't see her, even in his peripheral vision.

Pus.h.i.+ng all other thought away, he concentrated on work.

3.

WAY TO GO, ANNA, she berated herself as she skillfully turned a corner in the Mercedes. She still couldn't believe that she'd broken in on a client's private business conversation to offer a legal opinion. No, not just a legal opinion, she ruthlessly corrected herself. A legal reprimand. A schoolteacherly rap over the knuckles.

And to think, Danny had advised her to seduce the man! She could only imagine what he'd say if she told him that not only had she not asked Marc out, but she'd also given him a lecture on the Australian Securities Act.

And he hadn't liked it one little bit. Was, in fact, quietly seething if she was any judge of the matter.

The worst of it was that she'd been antic.i.p.ating seeing him again all day. The moment he slid into the backseat she'd felt her heartbeat kick up, and her body tighten with expectation. Despite everything she'd said to Danny and to herself about him being arrogant and no better than her former bosses and her being totally not up to the task of seducing him, there was no denying the powerful s.e.xual attraction of the man.

She'd been unable to stop herself from watching him in the rearview mirror and playing a game of what-ifs with herself. What if he asked her out again? Would she say yes? What if he looked at her the way he had at the opera house? Would she have the courage to ask him out?

She studied him; he looked tired. A small frown creased the skin between his eyebrows, and occasionally he rubbed a finger against his temple. She guessed he had a headache. By the sound of things, he was having trouble with one of his many business deals. She could remember days like this-the highly pressured cut and thrust of the corporate world. And then, before she knew it, the stuff about breach of confidence was flying out of her mouth.

What had she been thinking?

A mortified flush spread up her neck as she realized exactly what had been behind her impromptu legal advice. She'd wanted him to look at her! She'd wanted to get his attention, and the only way she knew how was to offer an unsolicited legal opinion.

If she could have, she would have banged her head against the steering wheel. Here was proof absolute that she was not cut out for the world of seduction and l.u.s.t. Legal advice as a pickup line-it was so pathetic she could almost cry.

The worst thing was that she'd left herself open to a rebuke from a man who she'd already decided she didn't particularly like. But, as Danny had advised her recently, liking had very little to do with l.u.s.t.

After that, the trip couldn't end fast enough as far as she was concerned. She saw the double doors of the Stock Exchange coming up on her right with a sense of relief, and pulled smoothly over to the curb. Pasting on a pleasant smile, she slid out of the car and held the door open for Marc's colleague, and then for Marc himself.

He loomed over her for a heartbeat as he unfolded himself from the car. It was just like the previous week at the opera house-suddenly she was unable to breathe as she stared at the strong column of his throat, swamped by the sharp, woody tang of his aftershave.

He didn't look at her, and she didn't try to make eye contact with him. G.o.d forbid he ever have an inkling of the thoughts she'd been entertaining before she'd blundered into his conversation. She was shutting the rear door when Marc's offsider spoke up.

"We should be about an hour. I'll call for you," he said politely before turning and disappearing into the building.

Startled, Anna reached for the day's call sheet. Sure enough, she saw that the Lewis job was a drop and wait. Her services would be required again in another hour, when she would have to take Mr. Lewis and his hardworking friend back to their headquarters.

Great.

She spent the next hour going over and over the fatal five minutes when she'd stuck her nose into Marc's business. It didn't get any better in the rehas.h.i.+ng. The lawyer in her cringed when she remembered b.u.t.ting in on his conversation, thrusting her opinion onto him. Just as well she'd never had any serious intention of trying her hand with the man. Any chance she might have had was long gone now, that was for sure.

It was well after six by the time she got the call to pick them up. She'd been flicking through holiday brochures, trying to find an international resort that offered scuba diving courses as well as parasailing. She might be giving up on one thing on her list, but she was not walking away from the others. If it killed her, she was going to be more adventurous.

"Sorry we were so over time," the nice man said as he slid into the car.

"It's fine. All part of the service," she said cheerily, determined to be professional this time round at least.

The car dipped as Marc slid into his side and pulled the door shut, but she didn't so much as glance his way.

"Jacqui's going to kill me," the nice man said as he checked his watch.

"Have you got something on?" Marc asked.

"Dinner. Her sister's birthday. We're throwing her a big party at Catalina."

She was pulling out into the traffic when a masculine hand grabbed the edge of the front pa.s.senger seat and Marc leaned forward.

"Change of plans. We're taking Mr. Newton to Catalina in Rose Bay. Do you know it?"

She nodded. Situated on the waterfront, the restaurant had been the site of many business dinners when she'd been a player in the corporate world. Not to mention the fact that she lived just five minutes' walk around the corner.

"Not a problem. You're my last job for the day."

All the fine hairs on her arms were standing on end by the time he released his grip and subsided into the backseat.

The two men talked quietly as she tooled the Mercedes through rush-hour traffic. She had to exercise real effort not to keep glancing in the mirror this time. Why did she find him so compelling? It wasn't just that he was a physically attractive man-she saw dozens of good-looking men every day.

He exited the car with his friend at the restaurant, and she waited patiently as the two men talked briefly. After a few minutes, Marc clapped the other man on the shoulder, and climbed back in.

"I need to drop past the office, then you can take me home," he said coolly as she shut the door.

She was acutely aware that they were alone for the first time as she pulled out into the busy traffic.

The silence seemed to take on a life of its own as she smoothly powered back through the city toward the Harbour Bridge, but after a few minutes the sound of his phone ringing shattered the tension.

"Marc speaking," he said, his tone brisk. "Alison. What's up? How's Frank?"

It was impossible not to overhear his conversation in such a small s.p.a.ce, but Anna kept her eyes strictly on the road ahead. She wasn't going to risk stepping over the line again, not with this man.

"Whoa there! You want to slow down a little?" he said into the phone. "Just what exactly is it that I'm supposed to have done?"

Anna could hear the chipmunk chatter that indicated his caller was responding to his question.

"Well, I'm sorry that Sally feels that way. But we talked about this before she came onboard. Taking on a job as a management trainee in my business was not going to be a cakewalk. I expect her to put in as much effort as any other junior, even if she is my niece."

Anna couldn't stop herself from looking at him in the mirror then. Sally. Wasn't that the name of the employee he'd bullied last week? The one she'd got her back up over, because it had fired her own memories of being ill-used when she was recovering from surgery?

"And did she tell you what she wanted the time off for, Alison? Skiing. Hardly an emergency, I think you'd agree?" His tone was dry, even faintly amused.

Anna's hands tightened on the steering wheel. Sally was his niece. And he'd been perfectly justified in rebuffing her request for time off last week. Which meant he wasn't the corporate bully or slave driver that she'd judged him.

For some reason she felt absurdly relieved. It didn't make an ounce of difference to anything, but all of a sudden she didn't feel quite so...torn about being attracted to him. She knew her brother would roll his eyes, but liking had always been a part of l.u.s.t for her, no matter what she tried to tell herself.

The click of him ending the call drew her eyes to the rearview mirror again. He was rubbing his jaw, his face closed and introspective. Now that she knew he wasn't a tyrant, his physical appeal seemed magnified. She found herself staring at the small triangle of chest that was revealed where he'd pulled his tie loose. She wondered what his chest would be like-hairy or smooth-and whether it was as strong and well-muscled as his athletic walk promised.

He glanced up, and their glances clashed. She fought a battle against the flush of embarra.s.sment that rushed to her cheeks, and lost.

"Would you like some music? Or perhaps the news?" she asked quickly, hoping to cover her reaction.

"Suit yourself," he said.

He flicked open his briefcase and drew out some papers. Did he ever stop working? Even when she'd seen him last week at the opera house he'd been having a business dinner. Perhaps he was one of those men who lived for work. Then she remembered that he was a self-made millionaire. Of course he lived for work-people didn't get that rich by not trying.

Deciding to take him at his word, she turned the CD player on. The smooth, honeyed tones of Nina Simone filled the car.

Determined not to give in to her preoccupation with her pa.s.senger again, she resolutely concentrated on the evening ahead. She had no idea where Marc lived, but she would probably be finished with him by eight-thirty at the latest. Maybe she could take in a movie, or rent a DVD to take home and watch. The more she thought about it, the more the DVD appealed. A good comedy, and a long bath with a nice gla.s.s of wine.

"Is this Nina Simone?"

She almost started at the sound of his voice, the silence had stretched for so long.

"Yes. It's a remix, which is why it sounds a little different," she explained.

The song ended, and the soulful husk of Sade's voice filled the car, s.e.xy and smooth. G.o.d, why had she left Danny's inspiration CD in her car stereo? And why had she chosen to turn it on when Marc was her pa.s.senger? The last thing she wanted was to be surrounded by sensual smoky music with him sitting behind her.

Even as she was wondering if it would look too obvious if she switched over to the news, the Sade track finished and the funky sounds of Tone-Loc filled the car. She closed her eyes for a brief moment of humiliation as the rapper began bragging about how much his girl liked to do the wild thing.

She ventured a glance toward the rearview mirror. The light was dying, and his features were deeply shadowed in the back of the car. Nonetheless, she could feel him watching her. She was almost tempted to explain about the CD, that it was a gift from her brother. But she rationalized that he was probably more preoccupied with his business and the evening ahead than the music playing in her car. It was only in her world that it loomed important.

The streetlights were flickering on one by one as she turned off the bridge and into north Sydney.

"Go down the ramp to the left of the building," he instructed as she approached his corporate headquarters.

She followed instructions, coming to a halt when a security grill barred the way into the underground parking lot.

"Here."

He pa.s.sed her a swipe card, and she slid the window down and ran it through the machine. The grill began to slide up with smooth precision.

She handed the card back to him and drove under the still-retracting grill.

The garage was empty. Her surprise must have shown.

"It is Friday night. I encourage my people to have lives of their own," he said.

"What about your life?" she said, and could have bitten her tongue off. What kind of a question was that to ask a man who'd just told her to mind her own business?

His face was unreadable in the darkness of the backseat.

"My life is just fine," he said after a long silence.

The sound of the car door opening echoed in the empty car park.

"I'll be ten minutes or so. Then we'll be going to Point Piper."

The door clicked shut, and she watched him walk toward the lift. His stride was confident, as though he owned the world. Again she wondered what his body was like beneath his superbly cut suit. Not that she was ever likely to find out, but she had ten minutes to kill....

Deciding the frustration wasn't worth it, she slid her hat off and ran her hands through her hair. The great thing about her new cut was that it was incredibly easy to recover from hat hair. A couple of pa.s.ses with her fingers, and the spikes were rejuvenated. Checking in the driver's vanity mirror, she confirmed that her Pa.s.sion Pink lipstick was holding up okay, too. Pity there was no one to appreciate the fact. Pity, also, that Pa.s.sion Pink was as close as she was going to get to bringing real pa.s.sion into her life, the way she was going. Legal advice as a pickup line! Who was she kidding? Even if she could get past her self-consciousness and preconceptions, she was going to have an uphill battle on her hands landing any man with such puny weapons in her a.r.s.enal.

She was about to flick the mirror back up when she saw that one of her silver hoop earrings was missing. Discreet and stylish, they had been her mother's and held great sentimental value. She frowned in annoyance. Where could the earring have gone missing?

Perhaps it had fallen in the car? She patted the seat around herself, easing her hips from side to side to see if she could catch sight of anything silver. Nothing.

Not prepared to give up, she released her seat belt and got out of the car. Her seat was empty, however, and she slid a hand down the side of it. Again, zilch. Given that she'd done nothing but drive all day, the earring had to be in here somewhere, or back at her apartment. Turning on the car's interior light, she set to the search with a purpose.

MARC UNDOCKED HIS LAPTOP from his desk, slid it into its bag and slung the strap over his shoulder. His secretary had left a file on his desk with important papers for him to go over, and he added it to the papers in his briefcase.

Somewhere between leaving the Stock Exchange and arriving here his headache had burned itself out, and he pulled his tie off and slid it into his pocket as he headed back to the elevator. Vaguely he wondered what his housekeeper would have left him for dinner. On Fridays it was usually fish, and he hoped she'd managed to procure more of the excellent salmon she'd prepared for him last week.

As the lift doors closed on him and he began the descent to the bas.e.m.e.nt, he allowed his thoughts to return to the subject that was occupying center stage in his mind.

The chauffeur, Anna Jackson. He'd been incredibly angry with her earlier, but his frustration had dissipated during his last meeting. She was obviously a clever woman. It was there in her eyes, in the comprehension and perception behind each glance. He wondered why she'd given up law to drive people like him around all day.

And he wondered whether he could resist the urge to ask her out for dinner again. Not that he particularly wanted to exchange small talk with her over a meal. If he had his way, if he could be bluntly honest and lay his cards on the table, he'd just take her back to his place and bury himself inside her until the itch that was his desire for her was gone.

He reminded himself again of the man at the opera house. He would not destroy a relations.h.i.+p. It would make him the worst kind of hypocrite.

Maybe he should have dismissed her and called a cab to take him home. Remove himself from temptation, as it were. Even as he thought it, his pride reared up inside him. Was he in high school, unable to control his libido all of a sudden? It was no big deal. She'd drive him home, and he'd get out of the car without asking her out-or in-and that would be that. And on Monday he'd tell his secretary to change car services.

Then he walked out of the elevator in the garage and saw her. All four doors of the Mercedes were open, and she was leaning across the backseat, one knee on the cus.h.i.+ons, the other leg on the ground outside the car as she searched for something. The fabric of her skirt was stretched tight across her b.u.t.t, and her hips swayed from side to side provocatively as she leaned farther into the car.

He was instantly aroused, hard as a rock. He clenched his jaw. He wanted nothing more than to walk over there and have his way with her. In fact, he was a little afraid of how strong the impulse was to take what he wanted.

He didn't like being out of control. It was one thing he knew about himself absolutely-he liked to be the one calling the shots, making the running. Even more so after Tara. Never again would he give another person so much power over his world.

So regardless of desire or l.u.s.t or whatever this was, he was going to ignore it, and stick to his game plan. Anything or anyone that could inspire this much fascination in him was dangerous.

Resolute, he moved toward the car. He was just a handful of steps away when he became aware that she was completely oblivious to his approach. He cleared his throat, not wanting to be closer to her than he needed to be.

"Miss Jackson," he said.

Her head came up, and she glanced over her shoulder.