Best Of Makeovers Bundle Part 51

She shrugged. She'd survive. It was just one night, and she'd gone a whole thirty-two years without the man, after all. It just meant she was in for a long, cold shower when she got home after the awards ceremony.

"Okay, here we are," Danny said. His voice sounded tense, and she soothed a hand down his back as they got out of the cab in front of the hotel.

"Relax, you'll do fine," she a.s.sured him.

The first person they saw when they stepped into the hotel foyer was Ben Grayson, her brother's mysteriously oriented colleague. He smiled broadly when he spotted them.

"Danny! Cutting it a little fine, aren't you? They're just about to serve the entree," he said.

"What are you doing out here, then?" Danny asked wryly.

"Waiting for my date. Looks like she's a no-show, though." Ben shrugged.

Anna almost laughed at the sharp glint that came into her brother's eye. "Your girlfriend working late, is she?" he fished.

"Not my girlfriend, just a buddy of mine. She's a doctor-must have gotten stuck in emergency or something."

Ben didn't seem too fazed as he fell in alongside them and accompanied them into the hotel's ballroom where the dinner was being held. Waiting for a proper introduction, Anna realized Danny was too busy examining this new snippet of information from every angle to remember social niceties.

"I'm Danny's sister, Anna," she said, leaning across Danny to extend her hand in greeting. "We sort of met briefly the other day."

"Hi, Anna. Ben. I figured you must be related. You've got the same eyes and nose as Danny," Ben said.

Anna felt her eyebrows lift. He'd noticed her brother's nose and eyes? She shot a look sideways, wondering if Danny had picked up on the comment. The smug smile playing about his mouth told her he had.

"The agency's table is over here," Ben directed, and Anna trailed after him and Danny as they wove their way past dozens of large round tables, all set for twelve diners. Counting mentally, Anna estimated there must be about thirty all told in the room, which meant the hotel was catering for a staggering 360 people. She quietly resigned herself to cold vegetables and lukewarm chicken or beef.

She almost walked into Danny, realizing at the last minute that they'd arrived at their table. He shot her a triumphant look, his eyes inviting her to study the seating arrangements. Conveniently, she and Danny were sitting next to Ben. She guessed by Danny's increasingly c.o.c.ky look that he didn't think this was a coincidence.

"Down, boy," she said in his ear as she bent to take her seat.

"Oh, come on. I couldn't have arranged it better myself. Date's a no-show my a.r.s.e-he might as well have sent me flowers," Danny muttered back.

Shaking her head, she unfolded her napkin and turned to introduce herself to the man on her right.

As she'd predicted, the meal was barely warm by the time it got to her, but the real-life soap opera playing out on her left was more than enough to make up for it. Danny and Ben were plowing their way through the wine, their laughter and voices getting louder by the second. Since everyone else also seemed intent on tying one on, they didn't stand out too much, which was just as well if her brother intended on keeping his s.e.xual orientation a secret at work. As his inhibitions fell by the wayside, Danny's speech became more relaxed, his gestures more languid. In short, the campy gay in him began to emerge-just flashes, enough for a like-minded individual to make the connection, Anna judged. And unless she missed her guess, Ben was a like-minded individual. He exchanged innuendo with her brother, he slapped Danny on the wrist when he was too risque, and he had a bright glint in his eye every time he looked Danny's way. By the time dessert was being served, there was definite sizzle in the glances being exchanged between her brother and his workmate. She had the distinct impression that her brother wasn't going home alone tonight.

The MC called the audience to attention at that point, and she struggled to keep her eyes open for a series of speeches and awards. But when Danny's category came up, she sat up straight and gave him a pinch on the arm to ensure he was paying attention and not just staring into Ben's bright blue eyes.

"Fingers crossed," she whispered to him as the announcer pulled the winning name from an envelope.

"And the winner is...Daniel Jackson for the Ultimate Airline print campaign!"

Anna felt a surge of pride and delight as she sprang to her feet and urged a shocked Danny to stand. Hugging him hastily, she turned him around and pushed him toward the stage. Danny wove slightly on his feet for a second, and she suddenly worried that he'd had too much to drink. But he quickly corrected his course, and calmly mounted the stage.

"This is great," he said into the mike. "But I wouldn't be here if it hadn't been for all the people who believed in me along the way, as well as the client services team, and the production gang. You know who you are-this is for all of us," Danny said.

Then, cheeky devil that he was, Anna saw him make eye contact with Ben and give him a saucy wink. She laughed. He really was incorrigible. It seemed impossible that they shared any genetic material at all-she was so conservative and self-conscious, and he was so outrageous. But then she remembered that she'd been guilty of her own share of outrageous behavior lately. Maybe she and Danny weren't so different, after all.

There was lots of back clapping and champagne toasts when Danny got back to their table, but Anna could tell that Danny's mind was definitely elsewhere-in Ben's pants, if she didn't miss her guess. She made a trip to the bathroom, and when she returned she spotted her brother and Ben standing near the edge of the ballroom, heads close together as they talked intently. Danny touched a hand low on Ben's back, not quite an a.s.s grab, but close enough. Definitely time for her to go home, she decided.

She grabbed her purse and shawl from the table and cruised by Danny and Ben on her way to the door.

"I'm outta here, Danny. Great to meet you, Ben. And congratulations again," she said to her brother one last time, giving him a big squeezy hug.

"Wait! How are you getting home?" Danny asked.

She just laughed and waved a hand. "I'm a big girl, Danny. You have a good night," she said meaningfully.

Turning on her heel, she made her way out into the marble-floored foyer. The cool, quiet calm was very welcome after the hubbub of the crowded ballroom. She slowed her step, nodding acknowledgment to the well-groomed women behind the reception desk. A huge double staircase curved toward the second floor on her right, branching off in opposite directions at a central landing. All around her were huge glazed pots filled with exotic blooms, and the ceiling glittered with chandeliers.

Now that she was alone with no distractions, the itchy-scratchy feeling was back with a vengeance. How could she be so desperate for Marc's touch when it had been barely twenty-four hours since she'd last had him?

Deciding to put off the inevitable frustration of going home to an empty apartment, she veered away from the front entrance and into the hotel bar. Dark and discreet, it was dotted with small tables and couches grouped in intimate settings. Everything was very elegant and of the highest standard, and she guessed that the rooms upstairs must be pretty spectacular. Running her eye down the c.o.c.ktail menu, she chose something creamy and rich, banking on the liqueur settling her down and readying her for a good night's sleep. The waitress smiled as she took her order, and Anna settled back in her seat. The bar looked out on the busy city, and she watched the car headlights come and go while she waited, one foot swinging as she unconsciously tried to work off some of the unwanted desire in her system.

"Excuse me. Is this seat taken?"

Anna glanced up to see a good-looking middle-aged man standing next to her chair. He'd taken her by surprise, and she stammered.

"Um-n-no."

He smiled, flicking the b.u.t.ton of his suit jacket open as he sat down opposite her. Anna suddenly realized what she'd just agreed to. This wasn't a bus or a train, for Pete's sake-he hadn't been looking for somewhere to park his b.u.t.t. He was looking for a resting place for a very different part of his anatomy, if she had any guess.

"I'm Kirk," he said, extending his hand across the s.p.a.ce that separated them.

"Anna," she said, brain ticking over furiously. She'd really just wanted a quiet drink, but she had no idea how to extricate herself from this situation.

"I have a confession-I saw you in at the awards dinner," Kirk said, smiling self-deprecatingly. "You're a very striking-looking woman."

Anna blinked. Oh, boy. She so didn't know how to handle this sort of thing.

"Um...thanks. Kirk," she wound up saying.

He laughed. It was a nice laugh, and she found herself relaxing a notch.

"It's okay, Anna, I'm not going to try any moves on you. I just wanted to meet you, that's all," he said.

"Okay," she said, turning with relief to the waitress as she arrived with her c.o.c.ktail.

"Do you work in advertising?" he asked as she eased her martini gla.s.s onto a coaster.

"No. I was here with my brother who does," she said.

"So there's not some guy who's going to get all bent out of shape if I ask you out for dinner sometime, then?" Kirk asked.

"Not exactly," Anna said cautiously. She studied him covertly under her lashes. He was probably midforties, with a square, chiseled jaw and bright green eyes. He had a faint tan, and a full head of midbrown hair that he wore brushed back from his forehead. He looked good in black tie, and she guessed he worked out or something because his belly appeared flat and his chest broad. All in all, an attractive man. A very attractive man, objectively speaking.

"Why don't I tell you a little bit about myself?" he said, surprising her. He picked up on it, and he shrugged again. "Is there an easy way to meet someone? Some way that doesn't involve awkward moments like this? 'Cause I'd love to know what it is. I was married for fifteen years when my wife died last January, and I've only just started getting my feet wet in the dating pool again. So I'm probably a bit rusty with all this sort of thing...."

Suddenly Anna liked him. She believed what he was saying, that he was sincere in seeking a connection with her, not just a quick one-nighter. But she couldn't be less interested.

She frowned down into her drink, disturbed by the realization that even though she didn't view her fling with Marc Lewis as having a future, she couldn't even contemplate dinner with another man while Marc was in her orbit.

Her head came up as she made her decision. "You seem like a nice guy, Kirk, and you've been really honest with me, so I'm going to be equally honest back. You're a good-looking man, and I guarantee that you will not have trouble getting some lucky woman to go out to dinner with you. But I'm afraid that woman won't be me."

"Can I ask why?" Somehow, he managed to make it a friendly request and not a sulky demand.

"I'm just not looking for a relations.h.i.+p right now," she said. She could see him withdraw as he interpreted her words as a formulaic rebuff. It prompted her to a moment of revealing honesty. "I've been sick recently. And it's made me rethink a lot of things. I'm kind of catching up on some parts of life that I've missed out on," she said.

He was silent for a moment, then he nodded. The muscles in his thighs tensed as he prepared to stand, and she found herself thinking again that he was a very good-looking man.

"Well, it was nice meeting you, Anna," he said. He pulled a business card from his pocket and held it out to her. "If ever you change your mind, give me a call."

She smiled and took his card, mostly because it was the graceful thing to do. He nodded once more, then exited the bar, heading back to the awards dinner, she guessed.

She stared at the small square of card in her hand. Kirk Bowman, account manager, it said. She knew that Leah or Jules would give their left arm to meet a guy like him. Sincere, attractive, built, good job, charming.

But he wasn't Marc Lewis. The thought made her take a big gulp of her c.o.c.ktail. As the coffee-tinged alcohol made its way down her throat and into her belly, she grappled with all the confusing thoughts and feelings warring inside her. She tried to work out if she would have gone out with Kirk Bowman before she'd met Marc. It worried her that the answer was probably yes.

Quickly her rational self jumped in. It didn't mean anything. Of course she wasn't going to go out with someone while she was sleeping with someone else. She might have loosened up a bit on the s.e.xual front, but she wasn't about to turn into a serial one-night-stand aficionado. And there was no denying that she and Marc had a potent s.e.xual chemistry. All he had to do was look at her and she wanted him. As undeniably attractive as Kirk Bowman was, he had done nothing for her whatsoever.

As though her thoughts had conjured him, her phone suddenly rang inside her evening bag and she saw from the caller ID that it was Marc. Her tummy tensed, and she squeezed her thighs together. Thank G.o.d. Thank G.o.d he needed her as much as she needed him.

She was smiling faintly as she took the call, feeling very much like the cat that had got the cream.

"Hi."

"Hi. Where are you?" he asked. The deep tones of his voice thrilled her.

"At the awards dinner still," she said.

"When can you leave?" he asked. She recognized the faint rasp of desire in his voice; she was learning to read him now.

"I'm in the bar now, on my own," she said.

"I'll come pick you up," he said instantly.

Anna glanced back toward the foyer, taking in the marble and chandeliers and grand staircase. A wicked idea nudged its way into her mind.

"I've got a better idea. Why don't I get a room?" she said.

There was a moment of hesitation on the other end of the line. She knew exactly what his face would look like: his eyes smoky, his expression intent, focused.

"Yes," was all he said, and then she was listening to dead air.

MARC DIDN'T BOTHER shucking his work suit-he just scooped up his keys and made for the car, feeling like a superhero on a mission. He smiled to himself. He was on a mission: to experience pleasure as often and as intensely as possible with Anna Jackson.

He'd planned on having a shower when he got home from his work dinner, going over some papers in bed, then having a relatively early night. But once he was alone the hunger that had been bubbling beneath the surface all evening reared its head. He wanted her. And he was so far gone with wanting her that he couldn't stop himself from calling her cell phone, even though it was well after eleven.

He darted smoothly in and out of the late-night traffic on his way back into the city. The expressway was relatively clear, and he made good time, his thoughts with Anna all the way. He wondered what she was wearing. She always looked fantastic, so s.e.xy. His erection strained against the fabric of his pants. He imagined her in the black lace panties she'd been wearing last night, her b.u.t.t cheeks curving sweetly below the lace. And maybe she'd be wearing her see-through mesh bra, the one that showed her nipples so enticingly. Checking his rearview mirror and the speedometer, he realized he was speeding. Speeding to get to Anna. No surprises there.

He pulled into the forecourt of the hotel in just under ten minutes. A feat worthy of Anna herself, he decided. He tossed the Jag's keys to the valet, gave him his name, then headed for the reception desk like a heat-seeking missile.

They were expecting him, and he was given a pa.s.s card and directions to one of the upper-level suites with alacrity. He tapped his fingers against the railing in the elevator as it whisked him efficiently to the twentieth floor. Thank G.o.d for suit jackets-they hid a mult.i.tude of sins.

The door to the suite opened with a quiet hush. He walked into a sitting area carpeted with ankle-deep white plush-pile. The furniture was elegant and expensive, the lighting low. He barely glanced at any of it. Tossing his pa.s.s card onto a nearby table, he wrenched off his tie and tossed it onto the couch as he stalked toward the bedroom.

She was sitting on a chair beside the bed, a gla.s.s of champagne in her hand. She was wearing the black dress he'd first seen her in at the opera house, and he groaned deep in his chest.

"Man, I love that dress," he said.

"You remember it?" she asked, surprised.

"h.e.l.l, yeah," he said. He hadn't told her yet how he'd seen her changing in the car park. He grinned. Maybe they could do a little reenactment sometime.

"How do you like it now?" she asked, lifting one leg over the arm of the chair. The black fabric fell back from the slope of her thighs, pooling around her waist. She wasn't wearing any underwear, and his eyes honed in on the neat thatch of curls at the apex of her spread thighs. She was already glistening for him. Which was only fair, because he was so hard he was in danger of bursting a vessel.

"It's the s.e.xiest d.a.m.n dress in the whole world," he said. "Now take it off."

AFTERWARD, she reveled in the warm weight of his body across hers. He choked on a snort of laughter, and she poked him with a finger.

"What?" she asked, ready to share the joke.

"I was planning on an early night and a cold shower," he revealed.

She laughed self-consciously. "Me, too."

They held eyes for a beat, sharing each other's amus.e.m.e.nt.

"You have amazing eyes," he said, ducking his head to kiss the corner of her left eye.

"Thanks," she said, trying to hide her surprise. She didn't expect-or need-those kinds of compliments from him.

He rolled off her, smoothing a hand down her body as he did so. She s.h.i.+vered, and realized that she wanted him again already. The glint in his eye said he felt the same-round two was just around the corner.

Suddenly a knock sounded at the door. They stared at each other.

"Did you order room service?" she asked after a moment.

Marc winced. "Yeah. I forgot, sorry. Just some champagne and a club sandwich," he explained ruefully.

Another knock sounded. "Room service," a m.u.f.fled voice announced this time.

Anna wriggled under the sheet and pulled it all the way up so that just her eyes were peeping over the top. "He who orders opens...." she said mischievously.

He swore under his breath and tweaked her nipple through the sheet before pus.h.i.+ng himself up off the bed.

s.n.a.t.c.hing a towel from the bathroom, he started wrapping it around his waist as he reached for the door handle. Anna stifled a giggle as she realized he'd grabbed the bath mat. The towel only just met around his waist, leaving a huge patch of a.s.s and thigh exposed. He stared down at himself, annoyed-but it was too late, he'd already opened the door. Anna's eyebrows shot up and she bit her lip to stop from laughing out loud as the room service waiter walked in.