Mac the billionaire was officially off duty.
There was a message-waiting light flashing when Sadie got back to her hotel room. She sighed with relief when she saw her missing luggage dutifully delivered in her room. Taking off her jacket and tight skirt, she went straight through to the bathroom to dump her sodden bag in the shower tray. The wooziness was starting to wear off. Rubbing her temples, she glugged a whole bottle of water in one then pressed a few buttons on the room phone and listened.
Beep. ‘Mum, Georgia’s taken my jeggings again, and no, this time I’m not going to be calm. Oh and good luck for tomorrow.’
Sadie slumped down on the bed and smiled a mother’s half-smile, the one you give when your kids drive you mad but you love them anyway. The machine carried on.
Beep. ‘Mum, nana said I can wear Abi’s jeggings to the sleepover, ‘cos they were in the washing basket so she can’t need them, can she. And anyway they make me look like Kate Moss. And she’s only jealous ‘cos my legs are longer than hers ‘cos I take after dad’s side and she doesn’t. And talking of dad, he’s cancelled yet another visit by the way. And Nana put the phone down on him - it was well-dramatic! So …em…Anyway hope you’re having a nice time and good luck with the millionaire guy.’
Beep. ‘Mum, Georgia may have dad's legs but she's got your bum, so if she stretches them again, she’s buying me new ones this time.’
Beep. ‘Darling, it’s your mother. Go away Georgia and finish your Greek. Ok German, whatever, it sounds the same to me. Take no notice of the girls, my love and I’m sorry they found your hotel number but your mobile wasn’t answering. I said you’re probably preparing for tomorrow - so if you are, don’t worry about calling us back. I told them mummy needs to concentrate, so leave her alone tonight. Hang on. What Georgia?...Yes, yes, mum not mummy… Anyway my lovely, call me tomorrow after you knock ‘em dead, ok? We’ll survive till then. Well I will, but poor Herb’s stressing out about the bowls match tonight - Greta is a poor substitute apparently. Oh well, nice to know I’m missed. Bye.’ Sadie started undressing as the machine continued to play.
Beep. ‘Oh, I forgot - this might please you – it’s your mother again by the way - there’s been a bit in the Guildford Gazette about you winning that competition – a big write-up like that hunky journalist promised. Do you remember the nice young blond guy with the big shoulders, who was so impressed that someone from our little village had won something so big? I told you he quite liked you. He’s used a big photo of you accepting your marketing award in Hawaii on page five! You’d think that PR company would have issued a better one though - you can’t see your face very well actually, but it’s an impressive poster they gave you, isn’t it – it’ll be massive when it’s framed eh? Don’t know if it’ll fit in that spot in the shop where you wanted to put it – we might have to move the mung beans as well as the alfalfa. Erm, what else. Your hair definitely looks better now it’s blonde. And… No Georgia I’m not telling her about your father now, the machine’s just beeped at me and I think it’s going to cut me o...’
Beep. ‘Sorry darling. Damned machines. Just quickly - something to make you smile, takings were up today – quite a bit actually. That bit of PR seems to have helped. But I might as well tell you, I’ve got another thousand to put into the bank account – Tom Rosebery’s secretary let me know you need it – don’t know why the silly man can’t talk to me himself. But that’s me done then, my darling – it’s all gone. You’ve had yours and Helen’s had hers – well, most of it – her Nutritionists’ course wasn’t anywhere near as much as I’ve given you, but she’d just had her redundancy money even if she did blow it on her Jimmy Shoes… yes, Georgia, Jimmy Choos, whatever. Go away I’m talking to your mother - well her machine anyway - and it’ll cut me off in a minute if I’m not quick. So anyway sweetheart,’ and here the voice got faster, ‘at least you don’t have to worry whilst you’re away and anyway if this deal comes off we won’t have to worry at all, right? And Sadie – you know you can do it. Good luck tomorrow love. Sleep well. Night-night.’ Beeeeeeep.
Sadie threw herself backwards onto the bed and sighed a massive sigh. What would she do without her mother? And her sister Helen. She wouldn’t have survived the last four years of Single Mothers R Us, that’s for sure. Long hours at her shop, to make it a success, to keep paying the bills – just. And to keep the girls at the local village school, with its must-have school uniforms and must-go educational trips, in spite of what her stingy ex-husband had tried to make her do. And without her mother, she definitely wouldn’t have been able to drop everything when she got the amazing offer from the people she’d been approached by at the awards in Hawaii, to help pull off the deal of the century. With a product that couldn’t be more up her street. It was fate.
And if there was anything Sadie believed in, it was fate.
Fate and Destiny.
She hauled herself off the bed and walked into the bathroom. Flicking on the light, she got a reality check. In the harsh brightness, staring in the mirror, she found her mother looking back. Eurgh! Sadie flinched and turned away. Then looked back and tried pulling her cheeks back towards her ears, giving a slight lifting effect. Then she gave up, shook her head and picked up her sodden handbag.
The whole soggy contents came tumbling out into the shower tray, and she sifted through separating her precious documents and placing them onto a towel to dry. Then she held the bag up and smiled, transported back to that moment. She closed her eyes as her fingers found her cheek, remembering that toe-tingling kiss. Then she grimaced as she removed a piece of seaweed from her cheek and sighed.
‘Why is it always me, indeed,’ she mused.
Careful Sadie, keep your feet on the ground. One night, remember - no Prince Charming, no white charger. But hey, the way she was feeling, a jester on a pony would have sufficed.
Beats being at home making organic ‘Chilli-con-Quinoa’ for three.
Sadie realised her heart was pounding. Again
She began sorting out her newly delivered luggage – covered with stickers and battered from its journey via Milan and Paris and back again. Thankful to finally get out of the tight business suit, and into something more comfortable for the evening ahead. She thanked her lucky stars that both her vital laptop, i-Pad and back-up USB stick had been safely packed in her suitcase not in her aqua-bag. Opening the all-important presentation for the hundredth time in the last two days, she instantly got heart-stoppingly nervous once more, thinking about tomorrow’s meeting. Especially about the mountainous task she’d been given.
Thirty days to find an investor, they’d said, and earn herself a huge bumper commission. Debts solved. Bank of mum repaid. Ex-husband’s alimony a mere formality. And be part of a new product that would take the international health food market by storm.
Yes it was all happening so fast – perhaps those ‘laws of attraction’ books really did work, and all that ‘ohmming’ and manifesting and visualisation was beginning to pay off. Or maybe she was just in the right place at the right time to have come across the money-men chasing down a deal that was quickly circulating amongst the exclusive clique of venture capitalists? Putting feelers out amongst her old research funders had returned a very swiftly interested party. Maybe he’d been tracking her down when the news got out about Bill Galloway’s offer. Who knew.
Who cared?
She was going off in pursuit of her dream - to help improve the health of the nation. So what if so far, it was only the health of Guildford? And even that was a struggle - that part of England might have heard of Manuka honey and Acai Berry – but they weren’t rushing to buy it yet. Still, she had to start somewhere.
Sadie finished checking her presentation and turned off her i-Pad then pulled off the rest of her clothes. Her belly-pooch sighed in relief and she squidged it. It had been with her as long as her youngest daughter and was the part of her body she felt most self-conscious about. Another reason why she’d been happily devoting her
life to work. And so what if it had cost her a social life? It had all been worth it, hadn’t it? If her last attempt at a relationship was anything to go by, she wasn’t missing much - Damian had been like having another big kid in the house. Mind you, his stupid shiny red Ferrari had cheesed off the girls’ dad so much, it was almost worth it, even for the couple of months it lasted.
She smiled to herself at the memory of her last awful session in the bedroom, kinked her little pinky finger and wiggled it, remembering it was true what they say about ‘little’ men and flashy cars. Another reason why he didn’t last long. In any sense.
Good job really that he’d gone – the girls could do without yet another bad male-role-model in their lives. Her mother brought enough of those to visit as it was, bless her hippy cotton socks.
Sadie looked at the photo of her girls on the side table by her bed. They were chalk and cheese – but her finest hour. There was a hand-made good luck card underneath the photo, and Sadie pulled it out like a talisman.
‘Go get ‘em Supermum’ was from Abi, and ‘Bring home the Bacon’ from Georgia - which was funny considering her youngest had been veggie for a good seven years now, since she was …oo, five. Sadie shook her head. They were growing up so fast, her two very own musketeers. She was so lucky to have them, and she was so determined not to let them down.
Yes this deal couldn’t have come at a better time.
Sadie rubbed her feet. She made a dutiful call home, but no one answered so as usual she left a message.
‘Hi guys. What an amazing hotel. What an amazing day…’ and what an amazing man she thought to herself as she finished her message and hung up. She checked her watch. Plenty of time.
One hour and three minutes later, freshly scrubbed and glamorously made up, she was almost ready. Twenty minutes until she was due to meet Hot Boat Guy. Actually, twenty five – she should tarnish her perfect punctuality record, and be five minutes late - don't want to look too keen. Or God forbid, arrive before her date. No, it was good form to arrive just after, wasn’t it? Were they still the rules? Damned if Sadie knew anymore…
She felt her butterflies kick in with a vengeance. Having set up a five year exclusion zone in her personal life it felt strange to be dressing to impress once more. Time for one last check in the long length mirror.
Hmmm...
Hair - blonde, bit tousled, fresh ‘up-do’ - good.
Makeup – glam, sexy, not tarty - good.
Shoes – ahhh, very good.
Dress – kind to curves and cut just above the knee, showing off the best bits of her legs before the thighs went lateral.
Wide neckline - nice and stretchy – she pulled it down slightly – better off one shoulder.
No - off two shoulders.
Oooo, no - off one.
She posed sideways and inhaled, then frowned at her tummy in the mirror. The dress was empire-line - cut-in just below the bust, enhancing her hourglass shape, and skimming over the part that let her down. Her tummy always let her down. But according to that infomercial she’d watched a while ago – ‘just a phone call away, there’s an instant, no-surgery solution!’. And needing some retail therapy, and a way of fitting into her old suit, she’d made that phone call! So - time for the pivotal, shape-changing decision of the night.
‘Slimming Magic knickers? Or no ‘Slimming Magic knickers?
Disappointment now? Or disappointment later?
Dangling the offending garment in her fingers, she raised an eyebrow. Come on mirror, what do you think? The mirror responded and she could swear she heard the wicked queen’s voice.
Not bad. But not great either.
However, on the ‘plus’-side - as some of her clothes would be if she didn’t stop missing her power-walking class - she already knew Mac approved. He must like ‘em cuddly – there is a God! And the way he’d held her meant he appreciated her curves. Unlike some men – unlike the slick tycoon she was meeting tomorrow, whom you could barely Google without seeing some supermodel draped all over him. Slicked back hair, huge designer sunglasses, dark suit - sharp, prickly. YUK. Luckily she wouldn’t need to do much more than make her presentation, according to his advisor, who was the only one she’d been dealing with. The advisor had been absolutely insistent that his client was already interested in the product, and could meet the thirty day turnaround, which was why they’d responded to Sadie so quickly and arranged this meeting so fast. Time really was of the essence.
Shrugging, she launched the parachute pants onto the bed, opting for her black lace ones instead – the baggage handlers obviously weren’t partial to lace thank goodness, so they hadn’t been filched. Then she picked up her posh toiletries bag – smart enough to double as a clutch bag – and made her way to The Buddha Bar for her date. For her ‘just one night’ with the Hottest Boat Guy she’d ever known.
CHAPTER THREE
Sadie hovered outside the front entrance to the bar, unsure what to do. She bit her lip. Through the window, she couldn’t see anyone who looked remotely like the man she thought she’d met this afternoon. Damn. Do I go in and act nonchalant? Or do I wait here till I spot him? What if he doesn’t show? What if...
‘Hi, seen any good boats lately?’
‘Oh hi!’ Sadie relaxed the tension in her stomach. Then immediately sucked it back in again, remembering she didn’t have her Bridget Jones knickers on.
‘No. Nor cruisers. Nor power-yachts!’
‘Superyachts!’ he corrected.
‘The difference obviously matters to you, so Superyachts.’
‘That’s better. Coming inside? I’ve taken the liberty of ordering already,’
‘Ordering what?’ she asked, a bit taken aback.
‘Wait and see,’ he said, and showed her to their table – a side booth, relatively private, subdued lighting, but music blaring a bit too loud. They shuffled close, to hear each other.
On the table in front of Sadie were a beer, a water, a juice and a cocktail
‘Four drinks? That must cost an arm and a leg in here,’ Sadie said.
‘Sorry – it’s an old habit. Saves time standing at the bar, and - can I tell you a secret? It usually impresses the ‘laydeez’ if you guess their drink.’ – would one of them hit the mark?’
‘And what if none of them are right, Mr Moneybags?’ she teased.
‘Well are they?’ he winced.
‘Actually I could murder the juice! All that window-shopping and sea air’s built up a thirst.’
‘Phew! Thought I was losing my touch – I always used to guess what a girl drinks, back when I was in college.’
‘You must have a long memory…’
He poked her arm for being cheeky and slid the juice over to her with its garish umbrella and half a glacier of ice.
‘Here you go, Sam, cheers.’ For a split second Sadie wondered whom he was talking to, then remembered what she’d told him this afternoon. Game on. ‘Samantha’ it is.
‘So what brings you to Monaco then – apart from the yacht-crawl?’
‘Big meeting.’
‘Right. What kind of business?’
Sadie was mid-sip and hesitated. She looked away. Even telling him the short answer would bring on nervous palpitations. She downed the lovely cool juice in one, looked him in the eye, and leaned closer.
‘Mac can I ask you something?’ she said, huge doe eyes looking up at him from under long, dark lashes.
‘Mm you smell delicious. What?’
‘A favour? Would you do me a really big favour?’
‘Depends if it involves fixing things. Or getting wet.’ He joked, but a flash of unease had crossed his face.
‘Don’t worry it’s nothing like that. It’s this…’
He furrowed his brow, awaiting her next words.
‘Tonight,’ she said, ‘can we please not talk about work? At all?’
‘Oh, sure! ‘Course, no problem.’ He let out a breath he’d been holding. ‘It’s just that, for a minute there
, when you said a favour I thought you meant money…’
‘What!?’
‘…I mean... ‘
‘What kind of girl do you take me for, buster?’
‘No, I mean… favours. When people ask me for favours it’s usually money.’
‘What the…!’
‘Em…Not you, though – obviously.’ Trying to change the subject, he back peddled. ‘You know – sponsor me for this, lend me that, or asking me to buy your silence in return for not reporting me…. to the Snog Police.’
She looked thoughtful then laughed, shaking her head incredulously. ‘Idiot!’
Mac laughed too, and also took a sip of his drink, turning his head away from Sadie. She didn’t see him mouth to himself in disgust - ‘the snog police?!’.
‘The thing is,’ she explained, ‘you see, this is the thing.’
‘What’s the thing?’
‘It’s all been really intense lately, and …I’d rather have a night off from thinking about business.’
‘That’s the thing?’
‘That’s the thing.’ Sadie looked at him hopefully. It would mean she could totally forget about everything else and just let her hair down – literally and metaphorically.
‘Mmm, well I’m not sure,’ he replied. She felt a flash of nerves, wondering if he was going to quiz her all night long about her trip. She needn’t have worried. ‘… After all, that’s my whole repertoire gone if I can’t do my “funny thing happened at the office” routine!’
Sadie nudged him playfully.
‘… No, seriously,’ he continued, picking up his drink, ‘Great idea. Wonderful idea. No job-talk, then. No moans. No anything relating to the daily grind. Tonight we can be whoever we want to be.’
‘Yes, absolutely!’ she beamed, picking up the iced water.
‘In fact, let’s go the whole hog. No last names. Just Sam and Mac. And one night in Monaco. How ‘bout it?’
‘Well, mystery can be very exciting…’ She smiled at his enthusiasm for her suggestion to make it all incognito. It’s like he knew…
Hawaiian Affair (Part 1 of 4) (Hawaiian Affair - 30 days to sign the deal - and stay out of love) Page 5