"ANNA JACKSON?"
Anna swiveled on her heel, turning toward the voice. The
woman standing in front of her on the busy Sydney street
was dressed in a neat navy suit, her hair perfectly
coiffed, her face stretched into an expression of
incredulity.
"It is you!"
Anna smiled. She still got a buzz out of people's
reactions to the new her. Especially her old law
colleagues.
"Hey, Mary. How are things?"
"You look so different!" Mary said, shaking her head. "I
would have walked right past you. I mean, I nearly did."
"It was time for a change.You know how it is." Anna
shrugged. Mary's hand strayed to her own sensible brown
bob as she eyed Anna's new short and spiky platinum blond
haircut. "I haven't seen you around for ages," Mary said,
fishing for information.
"I quit," Anna said simply.
"Oh. Wow. I didn't hear. So which firm did you go to? I
know Sullivan and Makepeace were looking for someone in
corporate governance...."
"Actually, I've started up my own business," Anna said
lightly. She glanced toward the gleaming black Mercedes
sedan parked behind her. Mary followed her gaze, frowning
as she took in the car's license plates: Lady
Driver. "It's a luxury car service," Anna explained. "High-
end business, that kind of thing."
"You mean you've quit law?" Mary said. She sounded
scandalized, as though Anna had just confessed to running
a string of hookers.
"Yep."
Mary shook her head. "Why on earth would you do that?
You're such a great lawyer, Anna. One of the best. God, I
used to sweat buckets when I knew I was coming up against
you."
Anna had gotten used to people not understanding why she'd
tossed in her career, but she was surprised at the tug of
pride she felt at the other woman's compliment. "Really?"
It was hard not to feel flattered.
"Hell, yeah. Formidable — that's how my senior partner
once described you," Mary said admiringly.
The buzz of pride faded. Formidable. Great. Just how she
wanted to be remembered.
"I guess I decided that there was more to life than work,"
Anna said.
Mary opened her mouth to argue, but maybe she saw
something inAnna's face because she shut it again without
saying a word. The look she shot Anna was equal parts
confusion and concern.
Anna knew what she was thinking — Mary simply couldn't
understand how anyone could turn her back on a
prestigious, lucrative career to become a glorified taxi
driver. For a split second Anna considered telling her.
But it was her business, her very private business.
Anyway, it wouldn't take the other woman long to find out
why Anna had quit her job and turned her life around. The
Sydney law community was big, but not that big. Mary would
go back to the oak-lined offices of her firm and ask the
right people the right questions, and within an hour she'd
know.
"Breast cancer," someone would tell Mary in a hushed tone.
"Went off the rails, threw it all in." "Well. I wish you
the best of luck," Mary finally said. "If I know you,
you'll have a fleet of cars within a year."
Anna just smiled. She couldn't think of anything she
wanted less, but Mary was being kind.
"Thanks. Look after yourself," Anna said.
Giving her one last, uncertain glance, Mary strode briskly
away. No doubt she was heading off to wage a war of words
with a sharp-witted foe, Anna guessed. Precedents would be
cited, clauses referred to. Veiled threats would be tossed
back and forth as the lawyers circled one another. It
would be tense and exciting and challenging.
Anna narrowed her eyes to follow Mary's retreating figure.
There had been times in the past five weeks since Lady
Driver had gotten off the ground when she'd been assailed
with doubts about what she'd done. It was all so new, so
different, so scary. But watching Mary walk away, Anna
realized that if ever she'd had any doubts about giving up
her law career, they'd just evaporated completely. She
wouldn't trade places with the other woman for anything —
not even her own string of hookers.
She was still smiling when she turned back to the car. The
dark tinted windows reflected her image back at her, and
her smile broadened as she took in the striking-looking
woman she'd become. First, there was the hair. Annie
Lennox, eat your heart out. Then there was the hot pink
curve of her lips and the smoky kohl of her eyes — gone
were the somber, conservative browns and grays of her old
makeup palette, never to be seen again. And instead of the
severe, staid style of her previous suits, she now wore a
figure-hugging, sexy skirt suit in dark charcoal with a
hot pink pinstripe running through it.
There was hardly a trace of the old Anna Jackson left, she
assured herself. That was why she liked it so much when
people from her former life like Mary barely recognized
her.
Sliding into the driver's seat, Anna put her chauffeur's
cap on.
Knowing she still had ten minutes to kill until her next
client, she eased her small leather-bound notebook from
the side pocket of the car door and flipped it open to a
well-thumbed page. She couldn't look at the words
inscribed there without remembering the setting she'd
written them in — the sterile whiteness of the hospital,
the muffled clatter of nurses doing their rounds, the all-
pervading smell of antiseptic. As always, a wave of fear
gripped her as she recalled the hours of waiting and
wondering.
But she needed the fear. It kept her honest, kept her nose
to the grindstone as she worked to change her life around.
Because she'd promised herself that she'd change if she
got a second chance. And it was tempting to let things
slide, to go easy on herself now that the fear was
receding.
She read over the list, even though she didn't really need
prompting to remember the pledges she'd made to herself.
Change job — crossed out now. Make over me, also crossed
out. The rest of the list was still intact, waiting to be
tackled.
She frowned down at the page as she ran her eye over point
number two again. It wasn't entirely true, was it? She
wasn't really made over. Not when she considered that
she'd barely addressed all the other things on her list.
Be more impulsive still challenged her. Along with be
adventurous. There was a sublist of things she wanted to
try under that one — scuba diving, sky-diving, bungee
jumping, motorbike riding, snowboarding. And she hadn't
done a thing about tackling any of them. But nothing on
her wish list caused her to swallow nervously and twitch
in her seat quite so much as item number five: Need more
passion in my life. She'd even underlined it several
times, just to highlight to herself how important it was.
And she'd done absolutely nothing about it. It had been a
year, and she'd changed her hair, her wardrobe, her
makeup, her job. But she kept shying away from the hard
stuff. The really life-changing stuff.
The sound of the back passenger door opening interrupted
her musings and she twitched the rearview mirror into
place just in time to make eye contact with the man who
was ducking his head into her car.
"You here to pick up the Lewis party? Sorry, we're a bit
early," he said. He had a round, friendly face, and Anna
found herself smiling at him.
"Not a problem," she said. Sliding the notebook back into
the side pocket, she reached for the door, preparing to
usher her clients into the back of the car.
"It's fine, stay where you are," the man assured her.
He turned away to talk to someone outside, then slid into
the backseat. A second man followed, but Anna was too busy
starting the car to register him immediately.
Then she flicked her eyes up to the rearview mirror, and
found herself gazing into eyes so dark they were almost
black. No, not black, she swiftly corrected herself — a
very dark brown, like rich, bittersweet chocolate. Thick,
dark lashes and a strong, straight nose added
determination to a face that Anna quickly saw was
dangerously attractive. Black hair, high cheekbones, olive
skin and the shadow of stubble on his jaw completed the
picture. And his mouth — she'd thought the eyes were
killer, but the mouth was something else altogether. A
chiseled curve, the top lip slightly thinner than the
luscious, provocative bottom lip, with the corners turned
up as though its owner was always on the verge of laughter.
There was something smoldering and intent and hungry about
his gaze as he locked eyes with her in the mirror. A
shiver ran down her spine, and she stirred in her seat,
suddenly unable to keep still.
"You've got the address, right?" the first man asked, and
Anna blinked.
"Yes," she said, wrenching her eyes forward.
She concentrated on her driving, smoothly pulling out into
the traffic.
But as she wove her way confidently through the lunchtime
rush, a frown creased her forehead as she registered that
her heart was beating a little faster. And her palms were
damp on the steering wheel. And her breasts felt heavy and
full in her bra. It took her a moment to identify the
feeling.
She was turned on.
As revelations went, it was a biggy. She only just stopped
herself from planting a foot on the brake and bringing the
car to a screeching halt. It had been a long time — a
looonnngggg time — since she'd felt anything like desire.
But surely it took more than a look — a few seconds of eye
contact, if she was getting specific — to switch that part
of herself back on?
Not once in her life had she ever locked eyes with a
strange man and felt the tingle of desire that was even
now vibrating its way through her body. This sort of thing
didn't happen to her. All her past relationships had grown
out of mutual respect and affection.
She was thrown, completely thrown. She felt oddly
vulnerable and exposed, too. She flicked her eyes back up
to the rearview mirror, trying to make sense of this
phenomenon. She felt a strange relief when she saw his
dark gaze was fixed intently on something in the front of
the car now. Perhaps she had just imagined that moment of
heat when their eyes had locked?
Then she followed his sight line, and saw that her pencil-
slim skirt had ridden up and that he was fixated on the
lacy top of her stay-up stocking — visible through the
side slit of her skirt — along with a good expanse of
thigh.
She couldn't help herself — she pushed her skirt down
instantly. When she lifted her gaze to the mirror again,
he was watching her, his eyes knowing.
She riveted her attention on the road ahead, swallowing
nervously. Oh, boy. She had no idea how to handle this
situation. He was obviously interested. What if he asked
her out? How would she say no without offending him? How
awkward. God, she was hopeless in these kinds of
scenarios. This was why she'd always turned to work
instead of putting herself out there more.
Tension tightening her belly, Anna glanced at the clock in
the dash. Five more minutes, and they'd be at their
destination and he'd be gone. She just had to endure five
more minutes....
Then she remembered her list.
Hadn't she just been sitting here, worrying over how to
get more passion into her life? And wasn't there a bona
fide sex god in the back of her car right now — and she
was worrying over how to get rid of him? She took a deep,
unsettled breath. This was what she'd just admitted to
herself, wasn't it — she'd changed the easy stuff, but now
that the going was getting tough, she was balking.
She snuck another peek at him. He was the kind of man
she'd only ever stared at in expensive restaurants — sexy,
powerful, confident. He looked as though he knew his way
around the bedroom. In fact, he looked as though he'd
written the book on passion, then banged out a couple of
sequels for good measure.
Her mind began to race. If she was being true to her
undertaking to change her world around, she would do
something about this. She'd ask him out. Or do whatever it
was that women did to get men to ask them out.
She felt like a born-again virgin, uncertain and awkward
and completely clueless. And, if she were being completely
honest with herself, excited. Because he was hot. He was
definitely hot.
Oh-boy-oh-boy. Could she do this? Could she really do
this? She felt as though she was standing on the edge of a
precipice, preparing to take a dive into the unknown.
The ring of a phone broke into her hectic thoughts. She
watched in the mirror as Mr. Sexy flipped his cell phone
open with a smooth wrist action. He had nice hands, she
noted, with long, strong-looking fingers. Her stomach
clenched as she imagined him touching her. Stroking her
hot skin. Tracing the curve of her —
She shook her head, amazed at how quickly her thoughts had
gotten out of control. She'd never responded to a man like
this. Ever.
"Yes, Sally?" he said into the phone.
It was the first time he'd spoken. His voice was deep and
low, a perfect match for the rest of him. Something else
to add to the erotic fantasy that was rapidly taking shape
in her subconscious.
"I'm sorry, but it's out of the question," he said into
the phone. She saw that he was frowning, his gaze focused
on the paperwork he'd pulled out of his briefcase. "I need
you to help with the bid presentations."