‘It’s… unfortunate. I’ve got an important meeting first thing in the morning so I sincerely hope it will be there this evening… Yes, that’s the right hotel. Thanks for letting me know. Bye.’
Heaving her bulging bag from her shoulder, she put the phone safely back inside and zipped up the top. She straightened up, overbalanced slightly as her heel caught on a cobble again, and the glossy brochure slipped from under her arm and smacked to the ground. She stared at it, hands on hips.
Bending down to pick anything up in this tight business skirt was not going to be easy – it needed some thought and preparation. She angled her legs awkwardly, and hoisted the hem a smidgen, then stretched and stretched until she managed to bend low enough to pinch the corner of the brochure between finger and thumb.
Pleased with having retrieved it, she wafted herself with its glossy pages a little. Then huffing and puffing, she gave her heavy handbag a hoist onto her shoulder - the weight of it almost swinging her round, like an unstable clothes-airer on a windy day. Oh good God.
‘Why me?’ she said out loud, ‘Why is it always me.’
‘Because you believe it’s always you?’ ventured a nearby voice.
A deep voice.
What the…?
Startled, Sadie swung round to see a man silhouetted against the sunshine slightly above her, on the deck of a huge yacht. Even bigger than the Nomusa. She squinted up to try to see him. She could hear metal against metal, and smell engine oil and soap suds… was he fixing something?
‘I’m sorry? What?’ She shielded her eyes with her hand but still couldn’t see more than an outline. The outline of an athlete, whoever he was.
‘I was watching you.’
‘And listening in on my conversation too?’
‘Yes and the earlier one. Couldn’t help it – you were talking so loud.’
‘I was…?’ said Sadie.
‘You asked “why me?”,’ he interrupted, ‘I’m guessing something always upsets your plans, right? Well it will - if you always expect it to. The trick is to hope for the best, but plan for the worst.’ He had a London accent. She hadn’t expected that, although his accent was a bit broader than hers, which she took a certain amount of comfort from. After all, she felt out of place amongst all this opulence. But finding someone with an accent not dissimilar to her own…
Maybe it wasn’t all toffs and tiaras here on the Riviera.
She found herself responding, intrigued. ‘Yes – but - it’s probably just my bad luck, this time.’
‘Well some people say we make our own luck,’ there was an unmistakeable smile in his voice, ‘every time.’
‘Hey – it’s usually me preaching positivity and no-such-thing-as-coincidence!’ she said. Who WAS this guy?
‘Well in that case, why be so negative today?’ he continued. ‘I was watching you earlier, being all humpy, all don’t call me darling,’
‘Eavesdropper!’
‘Whatever. Look - we’ve got sunshine, fresh air, clothes on our backs and shoes on our feet. Some people say that’s all we need.’
‘Well some people ought to try being in my shoes for a while - they hurt.’
He seemed to be looking down at her feet, but the sun was still in the wrong place to see his face properly. Was he old? Young? Sane? An axe murderer?
‘Nah, I wouldn’t wear those shoes if you paid me,’ he laughed. ‘Except on Sundays.’
Oh he’s such a smart Alec.
‘Bikinis, sarongs…’ he went on, ‘Pedal-pushers and pumps at most – that’s the de rigeur dress code for these yachts.’
Yes, a smart Alec who’s making me feel stupid. ‘I know that! But there’s a reason I’m dressed like this, actually,’ Sadie said, pulling her jacket down smartly.
‘A reason…? Ohhhh I’ve got it! You’re here for Mario’s birthday aren’t you! But I thought we ordered a policewoman.’
‘I am not a stripper-gram!’ she said.
‘I was teasing…’
‘Oh.’
‘…his birthday’s not till Friday.’
Much as she didn’t want to – Sadie had to smile. He’d caught her.
A very smart Alec.
‘So, what are you doing here? You don’t look like the usual posh yacht people.’
‘You saying I don’t belong? Huh! So says you, with the heavy London accent,’ she said. Got him. She could hear a little chuckle. ‘Well what, exactly, do the usual posh yacht people look like then?’ Sadie asked.
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ he replied, ‘stuffy, stuck up, boring as hell and seriously, seriously unattractive. You’re none of those.’
Okay, this man is the devil. He had to be. Every time she was about to get angry with him, he took the wind right out of her sails.
‘Really?’ she almost cooed like a teenager. ‘So you think I’m…’
‘…not stuffy. Yes.’ Trampling right over her moment of glory - and he knew it. ‘And anyway,’ he added, ‘you didn’t answer my question. What’re you here for?’
Sadie looked up at him – and for a brief moment she wondered, yes, what AM I doing here exactly? Making a right royal mess-up of being away on my own, that’s what.
Sadie winced as she remembered her plane journey – feeling stupid for thinking you have to travel smart in Club Class. No one else had – scruffy-chic was more the order of the day. And the real reason why she was right here right now - the kind women who’d given Sadie the ticket. Plus they’d clearly felt sorry for her and took her under their wing when she was still standing at the luggage carousel long after everyone else had collected their cases and gone. She couldn’t help but accept their offer of a lift to the quay after all that kerfuffle at the airport. It was their fault she’d become curious enough to go party-crashing. And her own fault for doing it.
And now she’d been sucked into a surreal conversation with some strange deckhand who obviously thought she was a bit of an idiot. Perhaps he was right.
‘Actually, I think I’m just lost,’ she said.
‘In life? Or just today?’
He stepped down the gangplank towards her.
Sadie’s usual laser-sharp retort evaporated on her lips at the sight that came into focus before her.
He was tall – tall and lean.
Attractive in a rugged sort of way - if you like them rough and ready. And Sadie did. The problem was, her pounding heart forgot she was on a ‘Man-Ban’.
He was wearing shorts. Just shorts. All that stood between them was a pair of oily cut-offs and a spanner.
‘UH-ohhh,’ she murmured. She wished she hadn’t, but it happened all of its own accord. Uh-ohhh. There it was again.
This man was gorgeous. She fanned herself faster with the brochure. He spotted it.
‘Ahh, I see you’re viewing today? Well you’re not very lost at all – this is the Nomad. The Nomusa is a few berths down.’ He wiped his hands on a dirty cloth hanging from his pocket and smiled. By now, Sadie was in a complete trance.
Hot Boat Guy waited for her answer, but it didn’t come, so he smiled a bigger smile.
‘Oh,’ she replied eventually, ‘you mean the blue boat down there. Yes, I’ve just been round it, actually.’ He waited as if wanting her to say more. ‘Nomusa means merciful you know,’ she added.
‘And…’
‘And?’ She had no clue what he was asking.
‘…and what did you think of it? The “blue boat”?’
Oh God is he seriously going to quiz me on it? I can’t say I wasn’t supposed to be there, I just wanted a nose-round and a free glass of champagne.
‘Actually, it’s ...not quite what I was looking for,’ blagging as if her life depended on it.
‘Not big enough?’ he purred.
The corner of his mouth curled and Sadie felt like a rabbit in the headlights. Her blush attack began in earnest, as he took another step towards her down the gangplank.
‘Did you want something bigger?’ he asked. The shorts were
dangerously near, now. His thighs getting closer. Eye-level thighs.
OH MY GOD. He’s talking about his crotch. Is he talking about his crotch?
After all, there was only about two feet and a layer of denim in between it and her… what should she say? What should she say? The first thing she should do, is stop looking at it. She quickly averted her eyes to the right.
Oh God it looks plenty big enough, she thought to herself, as she struggled not to look back but couldn’t help it. After all, it had been so long since she’d actually seen a naked man…
Stop it Sadie, she told herself. Being six hundred miles from home might mean you can go ‘pretend-shopping’ for a boat... but you cannot go home with a member of crew rolled up and tucked under your arm like the rug you bought in Turkey.
Turkey - that was the last time she went abroad alone, after the break up with Stuart. God, was that really four years ago?
She blinked her eyes – the whole marina seemed just a little out of focus. She’d better not be getting ill. Damn travel tablets on an empty stomach. And damn the tiny canapés - rich people at boat viewings obviously don’t eat. And damn the expensive perfumes wafting through the air, mixed with coconut sun cream and decadence - a world away from her normal life. And Sadie was rapidly becoming a world away from her normal self.
‘It’s big enough,’ she said finally, unable to stop the words coming out - what was it about this man?! And then, there it was - ‘It’s just not long enough...’
Why, Sadie? Why did you say that? You know you’re just teasing him. Was this her cobweb-covered alter-ego coming out to play?
Oh, it was there all right, it had happened before. One night a good-looking policeman knocked on her door – to ask if she’d seen anything suspicious because a neighbour’s house had been broken into. What did she do? She invited him in and asked to see his truncheon.
With Hot Boat Guy standing there just a few feet away, Sadie felt ‘single-girl mischief’ rising up in her belly, stirring memories that felt alien but so, so delicious.
And then it hit her.
I’ll never see him again, so what the heck.
She smirked.
It didn’t go unnoticed by Hot Boat Guy.
His eyebrow raised, the corner of his mouth flickered, and a slow, languorous grin spread across his face. Sadie was captivated by his face. Lived-in, but with an air of intrigue. Tanned, no doubt from working at sea, but what stories could it tell? Deep blue eyes and thick blonde-ish hair. In another life, another lifestyle, he could have been a Bond guy. With better cheek bones…
She snapped herself out of it as the importance of this trip came ricocheting back into her head and smacked her between the eyes. Sadly, there could be no renaissance for her neglected libido - not on this trip. In fact, not on any trip till long after the girls had gone to Uni. Not until she’d proved to herself and everyone else that she could make it on her own. That’s what Sensible Sadie said she should do. Or her mother did. Frequently.
‘So…’
‘So?’ he asked.
‘So - which way do I go to get out?’ There was a change in her tone, and he looked like he noticed it.
‘Same way as you came in.’
‘OK thanks. Nice to meet you! Bye then.’ Sadie walked off – and that was that.
What a wasted opportunity, what a shame, she thought to herself. Maybe, if I come back tomorrow after the meeting, he might still be here. Or he’ll have sailed away on the morning tide. She looked back and he was still smiling - just smiling - and watching. No, nothing for it, but to keep walking.
And walking.
And a bit more with the walking. Until…
Ooops.
Until she realised she was going the wrong way and had to turn right around and go right back again.
‘That wasn’t the way I came in, was it?’ she said, sheepishly when she reached him.
‘No,’ he said, trying hard not to laugh. ‘It’s down there.’
‘You could have told me,’ she replied.
‘I was enjoying the view.’
‘Are you always this cheesy?’ she asked, and now it was Sadie’s turn to suppress a giggle.
‘Only with my own kind,’ he said, catching her off guard, and she inhaled a sharp breath. My own kind…Uh-Oh!
Even more reason to get the heck out of there.
‘I have to go. I really do. Honestly. I’ve got a big meeting tomorrow.’ Sadie said, looking into eyes that just didn’t believe her. Then, as if on cue, her phone started ringing again in her bag. ‘Excuse me a sec,’ she said, and turned away to dig out her mobile and answer the call.
Mac was by now well and truly enchanted. And bemused. He wandered back up the gangplank, picked up the dirty rag again, and resumed cleaning a piece of shiny metal, watching Sadie totter out of earshot to take the call. A flicker of amusement ran across his face as he watched her juggling the bag and the phone. What is it with women and huge handbags.
He thought about her accent and tried to place it – he was good with voices. And hers being closer to home made it easier than most. South London perhaps – Surrey, probably. No, she definitely wasn’t a yacht person, but now he was intrigued – if she wasn’t a harbour inspector, what was she taking notes for? Was she on a recce? Perhaps she was film crew. Neither did she look like any business person he’d ever met, not in those heels. Mac pondered, and pulled up a deck chair to sit himself down, ran his fingers through his hair and swigged from his bottle of water. In the distant hill, something glinted, and caught his eye, but he couldn’t quite make out what it was. Instead, the view close-by was much more interesting. He sat watching this strange woman, wondering what on earth she was getting so animated about.
‘But Mr Rosebery, believe me, salvation is truly just around the corner,’ Sadie was saying under her breath, several yards away. ‘No, of course I’m not winding you up… Oh, you saw the article too, did you?... No, it was indeed all-expenses paid. Didn’t cost me a penny – it was my prize… Well actually, it was hard work, really it was. Very hot and very pressurised, especially once they offered me this deal… Well, you see that guy presenting me with the award, on the left in the picture? He’s Bill Galloway - he produces this water called Frish in Hawaii. And they want me to help with their international marketing and… oh, of course, yes I’ll hold.’
Oh God, this is all I need. If only her bank manager wasn’t one of her mother’s ex’s. Then maybe he’d stop acting like her guardian and leave her alone. She wasn’t that far over the overdraft surely? And why would they bounce a payment for £40 and charge you £30 for doing so? None of it made sense. She began working out a calculation on her fingers and as she did so, she glanced up. Hot Boat Guy raised his bottle towards her as if to say ‘cheers’. Weirdo.
She smiled and raised a hand to acknowledge him, and her bag slipped off her shoulder an inch or two. She turned her back to him and leaned on a railing. Funnily enough, now she knew he was sitting watching her, she found it most comfortable to lean down on the railing and stick her bottom out ever so slightly – just for balance, of course.
‘Oh hi,’ she continued her phone call. ‘…Yes, of course I’ll keep you informed of any developments.’ The bank manager was being pushy – more pushy than usual, which meant she was in more trouble than usual. She swallowed, and tried to act confident.
‘Yes it must be…Very inconvenient… but in 30 days it could all be over, you see – and you won’t have to keep calling me. I do apologise most profusely… yes, “again”.’
Awkward…
The mobile was throbbing now, she swore it was throbbing – or else her head was. One final tactic, she thought when the voice just wouldn’t shut up.
‘Mr Rosebery, how about this? I could always send in my mother to give you the full low down on this new deal. You know how much she enjoyed seeing you last time, and…No? Oh. Ok then, if you say so... Oh, did she? … Was it? … Oh dear, I’m sorry to hear that. Have you tr
ied removing it with bleach?…’ What else has the woman been up to and not told me? Sadie thought. Change the subject, fast.
‘So how’s the new Mrs Rosebery?... Good…No, there’s still no “Mr Sadie” in the pipeline. It’s all about the business now… Yes it is proper business! In fact I’m finding…’ Sadie caught herself, and decided to take the plunge. Think positive. ‘I’ve already found an investor for FrishCo, and they’re paying me a lot of money to help seal the deal and do the follow up. That’s why it could all be over in thirty days. It’s, er… it’s all being confirmed tomorrow.’ Sadie was glad he couldn’t see her crossing her fingers behind her back. ‘…Soon. Yes, in my account soon. The money won’t take long to transfer. It’ll tie in perfectly with my next lot of debits, won’t it. Haha. Isn’t it funny how the universe works in mysterious ways?’
Sadie cringed – she hated lying, one of her big things was honesty. Usually. But not on this trip, apparently.
It wasn’t totally a lie though – the deal was on the table after all, and the billionaire investor was meeting her tomorrow. And it could indeed happen in thirty days. Couldn’t it?
What’s more, as she explained to a suddenly much more genial Mr Rosebery, time was indeed of the essence. What she didn’t tell him was that otherwise FrishCo would accept an alternative offer from a competitor. It was a very short deadline for normal people. But even her pompous bank manager and Ex-Almost-Father-in-Law had to agree – there was nothing normal about Sadie. Including refusing to call him by his first name once he’d split up with her mother. Formality is good in business, she thought to herself. Unless you’re travelling Club Class.
‘Yes, Mr Rosebery,’ she concluded, ‘I’ll see what I can do to get some funds in the account for now. But I can assure you, nothing – and I mean nothing – can get in the way of this deal.’ He seemed to accept the certainty in her voice, thank God.
Grateful for the reprieve, Sadie hung up and put the phone away once more and hoisted her heavy bag. She was getting tired - and not just today. In truth, it was nice to have a break from the shop – and her routine – and the day-to-day burden of running her own business. To escape from it all – even if only for one night. In any case, the babysitting credits, and the loans from Bank of Mum, were fast running out.
Hawaiian Affair (Part 1 of 4) (Hawaiian Affair - 30 days to sign the deal - and stay out of love) Page 2