Best Of Makeovers Bundle Part 43

"It's fun," she said, having had this discussion before. "I felt like a change."

"I guess I should just thank my lucky stars you're both here in time to help set things up. Never seen either of you up and about so early."

Anna smiled a little guiltily, and Danny caught her eye. "Hey, Anna, you want to come help me with the big table in the shed?" he said meaningfully.

She smiled gratefully and followed him into the musty-smelling shade of her father's work shed. Eyeing a dangling spiderweb cautiously, she laid a hand on Danny's arm.

"Thank you so much for coming early. I just have to tell someone, get it off my chest."

"What on earth have you done?" Danny asked, the picture of urbane cool with his slickly styled hair and designer sungla.s.ses.

"Last night, I had a job with Marc Lewis again," she said.

Danny's eyes sparkled and he rubbed his hands together. "Ooooh, I just know I am going to love this."

"I need you to be serious, Danny. I can't believe what I did. I honestly can't."

"Okay, unless you swung naked from a chandelier in Parliament, I think you might be overreacting a little."

"We had s.e.x on the back of my car in the deserted underground parking lot of his building," Anna stated boldly.

To his credit, Danny only blinked once before pursing his lips thoughtfully.

"Okay, I'll admit I'm a little surprised-but also very, very impressed. You're a fast learner."

"Danny!"

"Anna!" Danny mocked her. He perched his sungla.s.ses on top of his head and pulled hers off her face so that they could make proper eye contact.

"Listen to me. You had s.e.x with a consenting adult. That's it."

"In public. On a car."

"Whoop-dee-do. And it wasn't in public, it was in a private garage. You need to chill out a little."

Anna put her head in her hands. "You don't understand. He was a client. You'll note I use the past tense. And I just don't do things like this."

"No-the old Anna didn't do things like this. New Anna seizes life by the b.a.l.l.s and gives them a b.l.o.o.d.y good squeeze."

Anna surprised herself by laughing at Danny's crude a.n.a.logy. "I did a bit more than that last night, let me tell you."

"I wish you would. So...are we talking washboard abs? Tight little b.u.t.t? Is he cut or uncut? Spill, lady."

Anna shifted uncomfortably. She could barely meet her brother's eyes as it was-she wasn't about to give him a blow by blow.

"I don't even know what cut means," she said evasively.

Danny sighed theatrically. "The Education of Anna. Is he circ.u.mcized or not?"

Anna could feel the heat staining her cheeks. "Danny!"

"Boy, this guy must have the smoothest charm in the world to get past this Miss Prim thing of yours and talk you into doing it in a garage."

"He didn't say anything. We kind of b.u.mped into each other and then before I knew it we were having s.e.x."

Danny grinned. "At the risk of repeating myself, I am so impressed. Wait until I tell Ryan and Scott."

"You cannot tell anyone! Don't you understand that I am freaking out here? I have no idea how to handle this situation."

"This is what you wanted, remember? I want more pa.s.sion in my life. I want the kind of s.e.x you see in the movies. I want someone to want me so much he almost tears my clothes off. Ring any bells?"

Anna stared at him. "Yes," she admitted slowly.

"And? Did last night not meet all of the above criteria? Were clothes torn? Did music swell, among other things? Were there impossible s.e.xual acrobatics?"

"Yes. Well, apart from the music thing."

Suddenly Anna was back in her hospital bed, staring at her notebook and the too-long list she'd made, a testament to how cheated and scared she'd felt as she waited for her results. She'd seen her mother die from breast cancer. She knew what awaited her if she was unlucky. Had there ever been a more honest, soul-searching moment in her life? She didn't think so. And she'd made herself a promise that things would be different if she got a second chance.

And here she was, alive and well. A living, breathing, walking, talking second chance.

Danny was right. She hadn't done anything to be ashamed of last night. She remembered the high she'd felt as she'd exchanged polite handshakes with Marc after their encounter. She'd felt euphoric. Free. Sophisticated. In charge. And then she'd seen that stupid b.u.t.t-print on her car trunk and been sucked down a sinkhole of regret and self-recrimination.

"You're right," she said, recognizing all her guilt and remorse for what it was-the old Anna trying to push the new Anna back into a nice, tidy, controlled little box. She was changing her life, and part of her was scared to do that.

"Of course I'm right. Get used to it," Danny said smugly.

Recognizing her reaction for what it was didn't necessarily make it go away-but suddenly it had a.s.sumed manageable proportions. The tight knot of tension in her stomach eased, and she stuffed her sungla.s.ses into her back pocket and grabbed one end of the big picnic table.

"Where is this going?" she asked.

Danny groaned. "You know I hate physical labor." But he grabbed the other end of the table anyway.

They had the yard set up and the barbecue going by the time the bulk of her father's friends and family arrived for lunch. Danny captained the grill, decked out in a novelty ap.r.o.n, a beer in his hand as he traded cracks with their first cousin's husband, Mike.

She watched him, slightly bemused by how well he could play it straight. Brow puckering, she wondered if he found it a ch.o.r.e. What must it be like to play a part so much of the time? To be so worried that you wouldn't be accepted by your loved ones and work colleagues that you hid your true self from them?

"Get that serious look off your face, sweetheart. No frowning on my birthday," her father said as he drew up alongside her. He slid his arm around her waist and pulled her tightly to his side.

"I was just thinking that Danny's been slaving over the barbecue for hours," she improvised.

"You're right." Her dad cupped his hands to call across the yard. "Hey, Mike-want to give Danny a break for a bit, mate?"

Mike nodded agreeably and Danny handed over the ap.r.o.n and barbecue tongs.

"Good work, Dad. Make the guests earn their keep," he joked as he joined them.

Her dad winked at Danny, then nodded toward a woman standing near the back fence, talking to another guest. "I've been meaning to tell you-that's Larry from next door's girl. Bit of a looker, eh?" he said.

Anna bit her lip. It was no secret that her father was looking forward to both his children settling down. She'd had a break from his matchmaking since she'd been sick, but Danny was the constant recipient of their father's hints. The two of them had a permanent arrangement to go to the movies every Thursday night, and Danny had told her that their father was always pointing out good-looking women in the theater for Danny to notice. She'd advised him again and again that there was one foolproof way of ending the campaign-tell their father the truth. But Danny simply refused.

Seeing the loving light in their father's eye as he listened to Danny tell an anecdote from the office, Anna didn't think any less of her brother for holding on to his secret. No child ever wanted to disappoint a parent, and there was no denying that their father appeared to be looking forward to seeing Danny with a family of his own one day. It was a tough situation-and at the end of the day it was her brother's decision to make.

"You want another beer, Dad?" Danny asked as he drained the last of his own.

"Better not. You know what your mother always used to say-I make a sad and pathetic drunk. Even more so these days," her dad said, smiling lopsidedly.

"What about you, Anna?" Danny asked, about to head inside to the fridge.

"I'll come with you," she said.

It was much cooler inside out of the midday sun, and she ran a hand through her hair.

"Whew, it's hot out there," she said as Danny handed her a gla.s.s of juice.

"Try standing in front of the grill for a century or two. I swear my nipples are medium to well-done," Danny said.

"Ew, I don't want to think about your nipples!" Anna said, pretending disgust.

"Which reminds me-Mr. Stud last night. Without going into too much detail, I take it a good time was had by all?" Danny waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Without going into too much detail...yes," Anna said.

Danny spread his hands wide, obviously expecting more. "That's it? Not even a single adjective for Uncle Danny? Just one word to describe your first out-of-bedroom s.e.xual experience...?"

"Okay. Spectacular," she said, deadpan.

Danny laughed. "You're not even going to tell me if his body lived up to the promise delivered by that suit of his, are you?"

"Nope."

"If you were gay, we'd have a ruler out right now, and I'd know everything about the man."

"Sorry." She shrugged.

"So, any chance of a rematch?"

Anna blinked. "Oh, no!"

"But if it was that hot..."

"No way. Marc Lewis and I were strangers in the night. No phone numbers were exchanged, not even a 'see you around.' I might be a babe in the woods when it comes to this stuff, but I know a one-night stand when I have one."

"You could still call him, see if he's up for round two," Danny suggested.

A wave of mortification raced through her at the very thought. Probably after the evening she'd had, she should be feeling a little more liberated about her s.e.xual needs, but old habits died hard. There was no way she could be that blatant about what she wanted.

She tried to articulate her feelings.

"You know, Danny, I think I've kind of gone from zero to a hundred here pretty quickly, and it wouldn't hurt for me to slow down a little. Yes, I had a good time last night. No, I am not going to go home and put my hair shirt on and kneel on a bed of nails. But I think some baby steps might be called for from now on. Maybe I should just go out more, socialize with my friends a bit. Meet some new people. Then I can find someone to have some fun with. When I'm ready."

"Why can't you have fun with Marc Lewis?" Danny asked stubbornly.

"No," she said very firmly, flashing back to the out-of-control, can't-get-enough greediness of last night. "No. Marc is out of my league."

"But-"

"Danny-baby steps," she said over the top of him. "I've got my training wheels on, remember?"

That seemed to get through. "You're right. Sorry. I should pull back on making you my new hobby, eh?" He slung his arm around her shoulders, and she winced.

"Don't tell me you're sunburned already?" he asked as he peeled his arm off her.

"No. Last night...we might have moved venue from the trunk of the car to the wall at some stage. There's this rash on my back...."

"Ah," Danny said, nodding sagely. "Concrete burn. Bit of vitamin E cream and a couple of days will clear it up."

She stared at him. "Is there anything you don't know?"

"I'm not real good on where the female G-spot is."

She laughed. "And long may it be so."

She raised her gla.s.s, and he clinked his beer against it. "Amen."

A WARM BREEZE WAS BLOWING across the harbor as Marc padded down the steps toward the pool. Ripples raced each other across the pool's surface, and he executed a perfect jackknife dive, slicing right to the bottom. The water's chill embrace banished the last traces of sleep from his system, and he began powering along with his economical but effective freestyle stroke. Ten laps, fifteen, twenty. At lap forty he switched to an energy-consuming b.u.t.terfly stroke, racing up and down the pool until his arms were leaden and his lungs on fire.

By the time he dragged himself from the pool he was breathing heavily, but he felt great. Relaxed for the first time in ages. He toweled himself down, gazing out across the ocean toward the Harbour Bridge. He couldn't quite see the opera house from his terrace-the promontory off Double Bay blocked his view-but the sweep of harbor and bridge that met his gaze was stunning enough to satisfy any man's l.u.s.t for the picturesque. For a second he allowed himself a small fillip of satisfaction at how far he'd come. From a state-provided house in the hot and dusty outer suburbs of Sydney to one of the most desirable pieces of real estate in the world.

A bitter smile twisted his lips. Tara would have loved this view. She would have invited every single person she had ever met to the house, ensured they'd taken in every one of the five bathrooms and four living areas, then casually led them down through the garden to this pool terrace. She would have fed off their gasps of amazement and delight, just as she had always fed off others' envy and jealousy.

Marc turned abruptly away from the view. Deep inside, he knew that there had been much more to his wife than the pleasure she took in his achievements. Was he any different, standing here gloating over what was now his?

He was in no mood to be generous toward Tara, however, even if it was only in thought. Slinging the towel around his neck, he strode up to the house. Showering quickly, he pulled on jeans and a polo shirt, then padded barefoot across to his study. His laptop glowed welcomingly from his desk, and he sank into his office chair with an absurd feeling of relief. Work had been his one solace over the past six months, accepting all his focus and energy with open arms.

As he flipped the screen up, his gaze was drawn to his knuckles. He'd grazed them last night, he saw, and suddenly a hot flash of memory surged over him: Anna Jackson, her head thrown back as he pounded into her, holding her braced against the wall. She'd been so tight and wet, so responsive. The way her nipples had puckered under his fingers and tongue. The way she'd tensed her thighs around him and groaned deep in her throat as she came....

He shook his head to clear the memory. But it was too late. The loose, relaxed feeling he'd gained in the pool was suddenly gone; he had a raging hard-on, and a taste for Anna in his mouth.

He frowned. It was one thing to be haunted by fantasies about a woman that he'd seen half-naked in a dark corner of the world, but he'd had her. He'd touched her and filled her and spent himself inside her. The fascination should be over. He wanted it to be over.

All his life he'd prided himself on being a man in control of his more basic desires. He ate well, he exercised, he didn't indulge his temper. And he'd been faithful for the ten years that his marriage had lasted. It wasn't that he hadn't been tempted. There had been times. There had definitely been times. But after what his father had done to his mother, he'd never found it hard to push desire away and remember what he stood to lose if he gave in to his baser needs.

Yet here he was, Anna Jackson still holding center stage in his mind. Having her last night was supposed to have scratched the itch, purged the urge, as it were. But his body remembered the feel of hers. The heat of her skin. The fullness of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. The curving slope of her belly. The long length of her legs clenched tightly around him, mimicking the action of her more intimate muscles as she held him inside her.

He didn't understand it. He didn't want to understand it. He just wanted her gone.

Resolute, he pulled up a new window on the computer. Gradually, thoughts of Anna Jackson slipped away as he lost himself in concentration. The tension eased out of his body, and the dull throb of desire tapered off as he held himself to the discipline of work. When he next looked up from the screen, two hours had pa.s.sed, and he saved his notes and flicked the computer off hastily. Distracting himself with work had been so effective that now he was late for lunch with his sister.