‘You don’t know how tiring it can be for us international business executives.’
‘Oh I can easily imagine,’ he said.
‘Monaco today, London tomorrow. Hawaii before that. Busy, busy, busy!’ Sadie was really getting into the role play now.
‘Hawaii? Really?’ he asked. ‘We were in Hawaii too, last month.’
‘You sure you’re not stalking me, in your “power” yacht?’
‘Ha-ha! No, just some charity work, and it’s Superyacht, remember?’ he said as he reached up and fiddled with his neck chain. It was a gold and silver St Christopher hanging on a gold chain.
He wasn’t nervous, surely? If he was, it made him all the more endearing.
‘And anyway,’ he said, changing the subject, ‘you stumbled on my deck, remember?’
‘Literally.’
‘So? What do you say?’
‘So…’
‘You’re milking this a bit, you know that don’t you.’
‘…So…’ she teased, putting her finger on her lips, thinking, ‘…So one word of warning. At the stroke of midnight I turn into a pumpkin, so I’m not going to be able to stay late.’
‘Fine by me, I’ve got an early start too. And anyway I quite like pumpkin.’
‘I mean it! And it’s one night only, right? I mean don’t make too many “plans”, eh?’ She raised an eyebrow at him.
‘Well, Mrs Businesswoman, you’ll be pleased to know I gave up making those sorts of “plans” a long time ago – specially not with someone I’ve just met.’
‘Makes two of us,’ she replied.
‘Kindred spirits – great minds think alike. Or …’
‘Or fools seldom differ!’ they chorused together.
Sadie laughed aloud and it made him chuckle too.
‘So - sevenish ok? Shall I pick you up?’ he asked.
‘No, I’m not far. Let’s meet on shore.’
‘Ok, how about the Buddha Bar up in Monte Carlo – do you know it?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ she said, recalling the handful of leaflets thrust into her hand by the women on the plane as they dropped her off at this jetty. Fate and destiny again.
He stepped back and took her hand – then kissed it - without taking his eyes off hers. A shiver shot down her spine.
A date!
One night of fun with Hot Boat Guy. One night of being someone else. Someone desired. Someone that’s not boring old Sadie Samantha Turner.
She grabbed her waterlogged bag and leaned up to plant a kiss on his cheek, pulling away before he could respond. ‘See you later then.’
‘Haven’t you forgotten something?’ he said as he walked her down the gangplank.
‘What?’ she said, her eyes wide. ‘Oh you want this?’ and she handed him the glossy brochure. ‘I know you’d like to buy one of these when you’re a grown up. But for now, just stick the pictures on your wall – it might help you make your own luck.’
‘Ha-ha. No, I mean your name,’ he said. ‘You forgot to tell me your name. I’m Mac, pleased to meet you, Miss...’ He did a mock bow and held out his hand.
‘It’s Ms,’ she said, wagging her finger at him. ‘And it’s a pleasure to meet you too, Mac. My name’s Sss…’ but as soon as Sadie heard her own name in her head, she instantly felt less adventurous.
Instantly ‘life’ flooded back in and brought a whole load of hum-drum with it. In a split second, she knew what to say.
‘...Samantha.’ Pretending not to be herself had been very enjoyable so far, so she might as well go the whole hog. ‘But you can call me Sam. And Mac,’ she said as she turned to walk away. ‘No more spying on people. Deal?’
‘Deal.’ He shook her hand formally. ‘Ok “Sam”, see you at seven.’
Mac watched her sashaying off into the distance, until she had disappeared amongst the sightseers on the shore. What the hell just happened? He hated lying at the best of times – although he had done it often at the worst of times. That was because it often used to come with the territory – especially in the early years - wherever women were concerned. But anyone can change, right?
What an interesting last day this had been. And it wasn’t over yet.
Mac finished tidying away his work, and trotted off with a spring in his step, completely oblivious to the occasional glints flashing away in the distance once more, way up in the hillside above him.
Because Mac wasn’t the only one doing the spying. High above the harbour, a pair of binoculars was lowered. A mobile phone raised, a window closed, and a silver Mercedes SLK convertible pulled away in the direction of Monte Carlo.
CHAPTER TWO
Mac felt like a kid again. He pondered what the hell had just happened to make Mr Cool and Sophisticated disappear into the ocean along with her handbag. Toying with his neck-chain again, he’d watched her clip-clop her way back along the jetty. He mentally chastised himself. Where was his usual reserve? Where was his normal play it cool, no matter who philosophy?
‘What the hell happened there, boss man?’ Said an olive-skinned man in chef’s whites who was waiting for him inside a doorway on the deck. He handed Mac a fluffy white towel. As he took it to dry himself down, a dozen or so faces - all peering through nearby windows and round corners - instantly scattered.
‘Beats me, Mario.’
‘She say no? I can’t wait to tell the boys if she say no. Tell me she said no...’
‘She nearly said no.’
‘Which means she still said yes – goddam, playboy rich kid from the wrong side of the tracks.’
Mac slapped him hard on the shoulder, and he cursed.
‘Now - you slumming it with us for dinner tonight?’ Mario’s voice went all sing-song, ‘It’s your last night in resi-dennnnce… I’m cooking your favour-eeet?’
‘Leave me a plate, I’m not sure how the evening will turn out.’
‘Mamma mia. You might not be, but we are - very sure. It will turn out just as it always does.’
‘Always did, Mario, always did.’
‘Leopards, spots, leopards, spots,’ said the chef as they both disappeared inside. ’Maybe the spots get smaller – but they’re always there.’
Mac passed down a corridor full of photos of himself meeting various dignitaries and celebrities, with Mario’s words ringing in his ears, and thought about his image and how it had changed over the years.
New kid on the block.
Property developer.
Playboy property developer.
Playboy Billionaire.
Philanthropist, entrepreneur, midas-touch investor – there were various paparazzi terms used for him, but he never kept the headlines, only the images.
A line of chronological pictures on the wall punctuated most of his major achievements. At one end, a shot of him in a hard hat, topping off, or finishing, his first office building project – less grey, less tanned, less wrinkled. At the other end a photo from a couple of years ago that had made every financial publication – marking a deal that had truly put him on the map internationally, and earned his place amongst the high flying venture capitalists – amongst the big fish. There weren’t many in that sought-after clique, and he’d worked hard to get there. That’s what had made a single life worthwhile throughout those years. Wasn’t it?
This was his own private corridor, untouched when the yacht was rented out for hospitality, and maybe she wouldn’t even come back to the yacht tonight, let alone take a tour down this corridor. But he wasn’t going to leave it to chance. The thrill of her thinking he was a deckhand was too much to resist. There weren’t many pictures and it didn’t take long to remove them all, one by one. He looked at each one, as he took it down – yes, the carefully cultivated playboy image had come off a treat. Often a beautiful woman was close by - but they’d generally made a play for him, and who was he to pass up an evening with a pretty girl? But it was usually just an ‘evening’, rarely a night.
Mario appeared again.
‘We
been talking, and we think maybe you lost your moves, boss man.’
Mac merely smiled and handed him the pictures. ‘See you later, chef.’
‘Aha – the photos come off the walls, maybe the pants come off tonight.’
‘Kitchen!’ said Mac, and he walked to his room wondering what destiny would hold for this evening.
First, work out how to play tonight.
He opened the door to the master suite and took off his divers watch and began to undress.
For sure, her body had filled him with the most powerful charge he’d felt for years. Still feeling it. Either that or the air con was too low in here.
Unbuttoning his shorts, he realised the thought of her was still affecting him now. If only he wasn’t such a fan of a challenge.
Too competitive, that’s your trouble.
Hesitating, then taking off the chain from around his neck, he shook his head.
To hell with reserve, it was only a date.
One night. She’d made that clear.
Tomorrow he’d be gone – like he always was. And anyway, this Sam seemed like someone who could take care of herself, independent and feisty and not likely to turn ‘bunny-boiler’ anytime soon, even if she was as clumsy as any girl he’d ever met. But feeling nervous about a date hadn’t been on Mac’s agenda for years. Maybe because she reminded him of his first crush, it made him feel seventeen once more. She did have the same incredible green eyes and tousled blond hair, high cheek bones and voluptuous curves, but it didn’t mean he had to act like a jock on prom night.
He carefully removed his shorts. Something unexpected had definitely happened today - and it felt so real, so refreshing. ‘Specially her honesty - even if she did only think he was a deckhand.
In truth, perhaps that was why all this felt so delicious…
He walked into the bathroom, straight under the hot shower. The water felt good. So did his body with all the training he’d been doing. It’d better pay off.
In any case, with all the stresses of recent events, he needed to get lost in a woman – truly lost. And if that afternoon was anything to go by, this woman appeared to have a direct route deep into the forest with no white pebbles to find a way home.
A little while later Mac was standing in just a towel, still hot from his earlier encounter with Sadie, and perspiring in the steamy bathroom. He wiped the mirror and wondered if she’d noticed his face.
Running his finger across one of the scars on his chin he examined the deep marks, right across his jawline. They were disguised more than usual by the five-day stubble he grew on the rare occasion when he finally took time out to train and just be himself, with only the crew for company. He picked up an expensive looking tube and squeezed out the thick, skin-coloured camouflage cream – one of many unusual lotions and expensive potions on the shelf nearby – till a big blob filled his finger. He looked at it, then at his face.
They never usually mentioned it – the women – they wouldn’t dare.
Would she?
He put a swipe of it over one scar, rubbed a little window into the steamed up mirror, and smiled at what he saw – actually, the stubble did just as good a job of disguise. Maybe it should be his new look. Jim would no doubt approve. He started wiping the cream off again with a tissue.
A sudden banging on the door interrupted his thoughts. Talk of the devil. The Captain appeared, red faced and puffing, wafting his hand through the steam and coughing.
‘You should let Giorgio in here afterwards, to help steam his acne.’ Then he spotted the coloured cream, and frowned.
‘You know what you should do about those scars don’t you…’
Mac shook his head. ‘Don’t start,’ he said, wiping the remainder of the cream onto the tissue and throwing it into a bin.
‘Don’t you think it might be time to pay attention to your weaknesses, for once,’ said the Captain, concern in his eyes. ‘Take the plunge? You know that I’ll keep bugging you until you do what I say – that usually works.’
‘I let you think it does.’
The Captain raised an eyebrow.
‘What do you want, Jim?’ Mac asked him.
‘What happened to Cap’n? All for show, was it? All for “Mrs Buy-me-a-Boat”?’
‘It’s Ms.’
‘Yeh, and knowing you it’ll stay that way.’
Mac threw a damp towel across the room and it landed right over the old man’s cap. ‘We’re only going for drinks,’ Mac said, and began to wash his face again.
‘Are you now? Is that why the whole crew’s been given shore-leave till midnight?’ The eyebrow was quivering mischievously but Mac didn’t take the bait.
James Wiltshire simply fanned himself in the steam. ‘Anyway I just wanted to find out if you’re joining us all at Mimi’s and I guess I’ve got my reply.’ He turned towards the doorway.
‘Get the crew a few rounds for me anyway will you? And tell Mimi I’ll, er, I’ll pop down later to settle the account personally.’
‘I bet you don’t!’
‘OK well take the credit card and sort it for me, would you? It’s out here on the dresser.’
The Captain didn’t need asking twice, trotting along behind Mac like a puppy, a slight waft of Old Spice after-shave exiting the bathroom with him.
‘Don’t lose it like you “lost” that supermodel’s phone number you were supposed to give me last month.’
The Captain picked up a black American Express card, and held it gingerly, almost with reverence.
‘Oh and buy Mario a bottle of Cristal. He and the galley staff have excelled themselves – none of the Grand Prix party had a word of complaint at this year’s gala dinner – unusual for bankers.’
‘Yes but they still cancelled for next year. Everyone seems to be feeling the crunch. Maybe you’d better get a downgrade on this?’ He waved the hallowed card in the air. ‘Curb your spending like the rest of us have had to? Make some cutbacks if bookings are going to be down?’ he teased.
‘Maybe I should go the whole hog and just sell the Nomad – would that do you?’
‘You wouldn’t! You’ve only had her a year.’ The old man looked suspicious. ‘Is this to do with – you know, what you were telling me?’
‘Look, I don’t even know if I’m going to be coming to the Grand Prix again next year, Jim. If my plans come off I’ll be a million miles away from Monaco and freeloading bankers.’
‘Well I still think you’re making a mistake, but you’re the boss.’
Mac didn’t reply, just disappeared into a walk-in wardrobe.
The Captain knew a lost cause when he saw one. ‘So…’ he said, seizing his moment, ‘just the one bottle of Cristal you say?’ A very cheesy, very toothy, expectant grin peeped round the door at Mac, who couldn’t resist his old friend.
‘What the hell, make it two! But I want them all back around midnight! No later.’
‘And no earlier, either. Right, lover boy?’ said the Captain, winking.
‘Midnight’s fine.’
‘Bibbidy-bobbidy-boo,’ said the old man, watching with a curious look on his face, as Mac pulled on a plain white t-shirt. ‘Eh? What’s all this? You not getting all Armani’d up as usual tonight then?’
‘Nope.’
‘No “whiff me at ten paces”?’
‘Nope.’
‘No “baby’s-bum” face? Hang on, you’ve even taken off Shauny’s chain? You must be planning some pretty impressive bedroom gymnastics with stiletto woman.’
Mac’s reply was to whisk the damp towel from around his waist and fling it, this time scoring a direct hit across the old man’s face.
‘Gaaah. Less insubordination from the crew!’ the Captain said, rolling his eyes. Then he shook the towel, folded it perfectly in half and hung it over a rail, looking thoughtful. ‘Seriously Mac…’
‘I hate it when you say that.’
‘…Seriously Mac, that’s why I called you inside earlier - because I heard the warning sig
ns. Remember what happened the last time you veered off course, for a woman with dollar signs in her eyes?’
‘It’s taken me a decade NOT to remember, James. I’ll leave a key under the gangplank for you, now go off and pickle yourself silly.’
‘Less of yer lip! One day you’ll come back and I’ll have taken the Nomad as a reward for my years of service. I’ll have sailed off into the sunset without you, landlubber!’
‘Well you’ll be sailing off into the sunrise without me tomorrow, won’t you? Just don’t forget my early morning swim – I can’t miss it. Mess with my training schedule and I’ll be sorry in a month’s time.’
‘Just as long as you’re not sorry in a few hours’ time.’ The Captain looked defiant. ‘Anyway the boys are lining up a bottle of Jack with my name on it, so I can’t hang around here listening to your nonsense.’
‘Give Mimi my love.’
‘Too busy giving her my own,’ he called back. ’Oh, and be careful Mac. I’m not sure I can cope with another lovelorn socialite with her eyes on the prize. I’d got used to you being celibate. Just make sure it’s not me clearing up the tears again this time. Or hers.’ And with that, he left.
‘She’s not like that,’ Mac said to himself in the mirror, ‘is she... Deckhand.’
He practised a smile briefly, but then his smile faded and he chewed his cheek. It had been a long time. Nothing – and no one - had been tempting enough. None of the business deals, none of the eligible women he’d met, even the extreme sports barely filled the gap. And they were getting more and more extreme. And the gap was getting wider and wider.
Maybe this was what he’d been waiting for – maybe she was what he’d been waiting for. A challenge, yes that was it. Different to the others. He certainly felt different in his body.
Well let’s make it a one night only, to remember.
Incognito. Designer stubble, and tousled hair, untouched by gel nor coiffed by professionals. Old denims and a plain t-shirt. No expensive watches or tell-tale bespoke stuff tonight - no cufflinks or statement rings. No lobster, no champagne. He’d have beer, common-sense food, and no-nonsense company – he couldn’t wait.
Hawaiian Affair (Part 1 of 4) (Hawaiian Affair - 30 days to sign the deal - and stay out of love) Page 4