His lips twisted as he thought of the shambles his parents had called a marriage—his father in and out as though the house had a revolving door, the other women, the backbreaking work his mother had had to undertake to keep him and his sister, Alison, clothed and fed. And still there had been times of extreme poverty, weeks of breakfast cereal for dinner, of living with candles for light because the electricity had been cut off.
He’d ensured he didn’t make the same mistakes as his father. He’d done everything, damn it. And still his marriage had exploded in his face. The realization left him feeling lost, adrift, confused. And very bloody determined to never let it happen again.
The sudden screech of tires drew his attention to the front windshield and he saw that the car in front of them was braking and fishtailing wildly. Even as his own muscles tensed, instinctively wanting to do something to avert what looked like imminent disaster, their driver smoothly changed lanes with a practiced flick of the wrists. For the first time since he got in the car, Marc glanced toward the driver’s seat.
His pulse immediately kicked up a notch. Warm brown eyes met his in the rearview mirror—déjà vu of the best kind. Anna Jackson, she of the sexy dress and the full breasts. He’d been thinking about her off and on all week. The one who got away. Or, more accurately, the one he’d decided he didn’t want.
Yet he hadn’t told his secretary to use a different car service.
She cut her eyes away from his, returning her attention to the road. He stared at her profile, remembering the man who’d kissed her on the opera house steps. His jaw hardened. He would not participate in the kind of betrayal that had destroyed his own marriage, no matter what the temptation.
“Okay, how about this? Let me handle the Sum audit personally,” Gary said with the air of a man who had been doing some fast thinking. “Give me a week, and I’ll go through the company like a dose of the salts. If I still think it won’t work, you listen to me. If there’s nothing too sinister, we close the sale. What do you think?”
Marc deliberately cleared his mind of the platinum-blond distraction in the front seat.
“What about the McPherson project? Can you hand it over at this stage?”
Gary shrugged. “I’ll palm some of it off, and keep the hard stuff. A couple of weeks of late nights won’t kill me.”
For some reason, Marc found himself glancing toward the rearview mirror again. She was watching him intently, a small frown pleating the skin between her eyebrows.
“If you want it, it’s yours,” he said, shrugging. Beside him, he felt Gary relax. It was one of the reasons why Gary made such a good wingman—he was a worrier, a real perfectionist, with great instincts and a healthy dose of caution. A good foil for Marc’s own sometimes reckless risk-taking.
Reaching for his briefcase, he pulled some papers out and shuffled through them until he found what he was looking for.
“I’ll need you to get onto legal about these contracts, too, get them to extend the due diligence period. Sum put a clause in limiting our audit period to just two weeks, but we’re going to need longer.”
Gary nodded and pulled out his mobile phone, speed dialing through to the office. Marc leafed through the papers in his case, running his eye over the figures for his next meeting as Gary wrangled with legal. After five minutes, Gary ended the call and sighed heavily.
“They’re saying they can try, but that Sum are within their rights to insist on the time limit. That way we have to make our decision at the end of next week, or we walk. You gotta admit, there’s no reason for them to agree to the extension unless they’re suicidal.”
“I don’t care what it takes, we need that time. These bastards are not going to slip through our fingers. Tell legal to do whatever it takes.”
Gary rubbed his eyes wearily and pulled out his phone again. “We could always go public with some of the audit stuff, smoke them out.”
Marc nodded slowly. “Not bad. Give them no choice but to deal with us. Play them at their own game.”
“And leave yourselves open to a suit for breach of confidentiality,” a cool voice interjected.
He shot his gaze to the front seat, capturing Anna’s toffee eyes in the mirror.
“I beg your pardon?” he asked.
“You can’t use information uncovered during due diligence to leverage a company into a sale. It’s against the law, and would be immediate grounds for investigation under the Australian Security Commission’s charter,” she said.
“Who the hell are you, Perry Mason?” he asked, astounded that the chauffeur was sticking her oar into his business.
“Until recently, I was a lawyer,” she said crisply.
“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 assume 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.
Pushing 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 anticipating 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 sexual 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 steer
ing wheel. Here was proof absolute that she was not cut out for the world of seduction and lust. 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 lust.
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. God 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 rehashing. The lawyer in her cringed when she remembered butting 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 passenger 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 space, 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 lust 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 embarrassment 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 passenger 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 glass 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, sexy and smooth. God, 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 passenger? 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 passed 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.
Cruise Control Page 5
