‘Mystery, eh. Sure, why not. Cheers to mystery!’ he said, and raised his glass.
Mystery it is, she thought, right down to the mystery of whether I’ll be strong enough to end this ‘one night’ early enough to be fresh for tomorrow.
‘Cheers!’ she said, clinking glasses. Then she sipped through the straw and smiled.
If Mac’s plan tonight was to get lost in her, he was already half way into the forest. He swallowed, realising the implications of what he was setting up. No telling her who he really was. Was that a good thing, or a bad thing? She seemed to think it was a very good thing. Maybe she had secrets too…
God her mouth was so kissable.
Seeing her tongue toying with the straw whilst she watched him, he felt his pulse quicken a little.
He was enjoying the anonymity – buying ordinary drinks, paying for them in cash, being in ‘mufti’, and not having to sit in the fenced-off VIP area being ogled, and occasionally approached for photographs. Keeping totally incognito would make this a night to remember – and a bit of a fantasy. An inverted one, where it was more fun to be poor than rich. And he was more like Shrek than Cinderella.
‘Cheers to mystery, romance and adventure!’ He raised his beer glass again, and this time she lifted the cocktail glass. ‘Here,’ he said, linking his arm through hers, as they brought the glasses to their mouths. Their faces were just inches apart.
‘Chin, chin!’ she laughed, her face beaming.
Never a sweeter sound than that laughter, he thought. She was enchanting. Ordinarily he’d opt for safe, disposable arm candy with absolutely no chance of reeling him in. But there was something so refreshing about her realness, her womanliness. It was filling the heart of him with a yearning to get closer. They relaxed back into their seats together.
‘And what else are we drinking to? End of an era you said earlier?’
‘Oh it’s nothing much,’ he said. ‘Just a decision I’ve been toying with for ages about ... a job.’
‘You got a new job? Won’t the Captain be mortified?’
‘No – he’d be going, too. But not even he knows that yet. So that’s all I can tell you, or we’ll break our pact before we’ve even begun!’
‘Well cheers to new directions!’
They linked arms again and this time the straw got in the way and flicked a little of the cocktail onto her cheek. She giggled and he wiped it off, and then licked his finger. She blushed slightly then reached into her makeshift clutch for a tissue.
‘Did the other bag survive its swim then?’ he asked.
‘Bag will live, but can’t say the same for the phone! Strange being without it. My mother will think I’ve run off with some weird man!’
‘Not yet, but the night is young.’ He relaxed back on the bench.
‘Your mum would probably think I’m a bit weird too. Most of them do.’
Actually, I never really knew my mum.’ She made a ‘poor you’ face. ‘Oops – sorry, we said no personal details, didn’t we. It’s sweet that yours cares so much though. And misses you too no doubt, whilst you’re away.’
‘Yes and my daugh…’
Sadie stopped herself mid-sentence. She corrected herself quickly.
‘…my door... key – I lost it. Mum might have been needing to ring me to tell me she… found it…’
‘Rrright. Well you’d better remember to pack your “waterproof mobile” next time.’
‘Thanks so much for rescuing my bag for me – are you always such a hero?’
‘Of course! Drowning handbags, run of the mill. Damsels in distress, a speciality!’
‘Well if I’m ever in distress, I’ll give you a call!’
‘Dis-dress, dat-dress, you look good whatever,’ he said, then cringed. Bad joke. Old habit. He really was stepping back in time tonight.
She whacked his arm. ‘Ha-ha, funny man. Well thanks anyway, I’m glad you were there or it’d have been me needing waterproofs.’
‘That’s ok. You were the best thing to walk down my gangplank all day.’
‘I’ll bet you say that to all the girls.’
‘Listen, just ‘cos I’m a sailor doesn’t mean I have a girl in every port.’
‘Hmmm,’ said Sadie, smiling up at him whilst sipping her drink.
‘Seriously – too busy – been there done that, you know how it is at our age – you start to want different things. Time to move on.’
‘To a new era.’
‘To a new era,’ they toasted again.
‘And to making your own luck.’
‘And to making your own luck, Samantha Businesswoman.’
They paused mid-toast, and the air sizzled between them. ‘Well I hope I didn’t disturb you too much today. Did you finish your…erm… what were you doing anyway?’
‘Oh, just a spot of maintenance. Pump problems.’
‘And did you finish mending your Pump…Thing.?’
‘No, my Pump Thing has had to be replaced. It’s seen too much action in recent years.’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘Has it now?!!’
He laughed and leaned nearer to her on the soft seat to continue the banter.
An hour flew by. Quips about Monaco – the place, the people, her opinions about the Grand Prix – or the ‘car race’ as she called it - ‘rich posers flocking in to watch lumps of tin go round and round in circles,’ She’d get on famously with Captain Wiltshire, for sure. Favourite foods, sports, pastimes and – of all things – he was surprised to find out they were both board game fans - traditional games, none of the new digital stuff - she shared his love of nostalgia – Boggle, Rummikub and Scrabble – the old version, naturally. She even seemed genuinely interested in the history behind his precious Tank watch. He’d replaced his usual Rolex with an inter-war leather-strapped rectangular timepiece. Battered and unassuming, you wouldn’t realise it was an antique.
‘You should have got it valued,’ she joked, ‘you might be a millionaire!’
‘I did,’ he said, ‘And one thing’s for sure – I’m not a millionaire.’
She made a big deal of fake-tutting. ‘Well, seems I’ll have to go find somebody else’s gangplank to walk down then won’t I?’ she laughed.
One night, he thought to himself, it’s just for one night.
‘What would you do if you couldn’t find another ‘gangplank’?’
‘Honey, I walk my own,’ she said, sincerely, ‘I’d make my own, just like luck’.
That was the correct answer, he thought, and he found himself relaxing more than he’d done with a woman in a very, very long time.
A second hour was spent in easy repartee, with more philosophical musing about life in general.
Mac could feel himself getting progressively turned on by her feather-light touches, glancing across his arm, his knee. He returned the compliment by putting his arm along the back of the bench-seat, touching the skin on the back of her one bare shoulder every so often and pulling her close every time she had a story to tell.
They ate a little dinner, his treat, but she insisted they took it in turns to buy the drinks - a revelation for Mac. The last time he’d allowed a woman to pay was back in college, skint. He’d since made it a principle that if he extended the invite, he picked up the tab. Over the years the party numbers had grown inordinately, but his principle had remained the same. Champagne by the magnum had become the norm. Sure, he got it back in spades when his rich patrons stumped up with stratospheric charity donations, but sometimes his bar bills ran into tens of thousands. Tonight he doubted it would hit a couple hundred euros – even including a big tip. But somehow, in a way Mac was scared to admit, it meant a whole lot more.
When it came to another round of drinks, Sadie asked to switch to juice instead, and Mac found himself surprisingly pleased.
‘Good idea,’ he told her, ‘I’ve got an early start too so I need to stay sharp.’
‘And I’ve got my business meeting - PowerPoint’s and pina-coladas don�
��t mix too well do they?’
Mac laughed.
The banter was distinctly more witty, more fun, and definitely more memorable without the ‘affluence of incohol’.
Revelation.
After one particularly cheesy joke, at which Sadie laughed out loud, a genuine, hearty laugh, Mac felt his body completely relax. He realised his shoulders were loose, at ease, and in the last two hours he’d also laughed more in a woman’s company than he’d done in the last ten years. He felt rejuvenated. A little of the old Mac was creeping in – he started to feel a bit more like himself. And he was definitely wanting to feel a bit more of Sadie.
As the night progressed, Sadie also found herself feeling more and more relaxed as she snuggled next to Mac. She was chuffed that after a long drought, she was proving to herself that she could still drink her fill of fun with a man. Or maybe this man.
‘It’s really weird you know,’ she said ‘I’m surprised at how natural this feels. Like I’ve known you for years. Are you sure we haven’t met before somewhere?’
‘Not unless you’ve been internet-stalking me already?’
‘Ptchah! Sure! With a name like Mac? Too many pages about computers or burgers to find anything to do about odd deckhands!’
‘So you tried then?’
‘Don’t flatter yourself! No time, sonny boy - looking this naturally beautiful takes many hours. It’s an art.’
‘Well I’d pin you on the wall in my gallery anytime.’
‘Creep!’
‘Ahh, welcome back, dear high school nickname, it’s been a long time. How I have missed thee.’ And he took off an imaginary feathered hat and twirled it round in the air as if bowing to her.
‘You’re a nutter.’
‘Ooh – say I’m a loser too, and that completes the set.’
Sadie felt good. Good to be flirting again. Good to be on a date with such a hot man. And maybe because tonight she wasn’t being Sadie, she was being ‘Sam’…
She liked the way she fitted under his arm. And the way the pressure was off. No high expectations from tonight, it was what it was. And he was what he was – a simple deckhand, and he seemed very proud of it. Unlike some of the chancers she’d dated before she got married - all full of themselves, striving to be someone, to get somewhere, and failing miserably. This man was so different. Even more relaxed around her than her ex-husband Stuart had been. Two children too late, she’d found out that his carefree attitude was only because he couldn’t give a monkey’s about anyone but himself. But thank the lord she’d got her girls.
Unlike her Hot Boat Guy, who didn’t seem to be bothered about his looks at all. He hadn’t even shaved for tonight.
Unlike Sadie.
Unusually, Sadie didn’t mind his stubble - she liked it – a lot. She liked him – a lot.
As she listened to another one of his funny ‘life at sea’ anecdotes, she wondered who else had felt the same about Mac through the years. There must have been a broken heart somewhere down the line, perhaps that’s when he stopped making ‘those plans’.
No, he really didn’t seem like a player.
Right now, he wasn’t even making any attempt to ‘play her’. It was simple, honest attraction, with no holding back and no games. No deception, just the way she liked it – ‘honesty’ wasn’t tattooed in Chinese on her lower back for nothing. Well, apart from the little white lie about her name.
But he’d never know, would he.
She smiled as they spoke, aware that he couldn’t take his eyes off her mouth, or his arm off her shoulder. He’d even angled himself completely away from the rest of the room - everyone else could only see his back – he was giving her his total attention. In fact, much of the night, his gaze never left her face, apart from the occasional look over his shoulder and a scan of the crowd in a way Sadie found curious. Maybe he expected to see someone…
Mac was on the lookout. Old habit. Just in case anyone saw him - anyone he had to avoid. Usually female. There was a close call when a group of glamorous model-types stumbled past on their way to the VIP area on the other side of the bar, just as Mac turned round, and one of them in a tight red dress did a double-take. Mac dipped his head quickly, but not before she’d taken a step closer. When she spotted Sadie, however, she halted, looked quizzical then walked on with her friends, her quip in French, just audible to Mac’s straining ears,
‘Can’t be, not dressed like that. Anyway, he usually has a young cover-girl on his arm, not someone like her. Probably just looks a bit like him, that’s all.’
Mac froze. How dare they insult his companion like that. If he wasn’t ‘under cover’, he’d have taken great pleasure in telling them that she was more beautiful than any cover girl.
Then he realised with a jolt that the insult was really for him. He felt shallow, superficial. Was he really that clichéd?
Suddenly a sledgehammer blow caught him in the gut, bringing with it the sad realisation that that was precisely what he was.
He’d never been amidst public opinion before, in this way, hearing sheer honesty, rather than the sanitised, filtered version the Über-rich usually heard. How sad that this playboy persona was all he boiled down to in their eyes. And they’d been right – his arm candy was usually a carefully groomed size Zero – with a personality to match. No wonder he’d stopped finding them attractive.
And as for his playboy image?
Well let’s see if the new plans would finally change all that.
His companion was regaling him with some information about a health food product she’d recently discovered, animated and enthusiastic, and he watched her red lips pouting and pursing as she spoke. He wasn’t really listening.
Would she care about what other people thought? Probably not.
The topic of discussion had got to the stage where those red lips were adamantly advocating that the scientific press should ‘grow some’. She was enchanting.
Later, when the music slowed down, he asked Sadie if she danced.
‘You mean, am I capable of it? Or would I like to?’ she chuckled.
‘Come on, come dance with me. I’m not very good but let’s give it a go.’ Hmm, still the self-doubt creeping in. Why was it so important to him to make a good impression on her? She certainly was unlike any of the others he’d been with – ever. But still he shrugged – that’s simply what happens when you spend too long away from women…
Sadie felt completely happy. She’d laughed a lot, her body felt energised, as only sexual heat can make you feel, and she hadn’t had to think about work once. She looked up at this strapping guy, holding out his hand hopefully towards her. How lucky was she? Taking his hand and feeling its warmth, she followed him out to the middle of the floor, mingling anonymously amongst the other swaying couples.
A humid, heavy heat lay in the air and a bubbling anticipation began to rise between them, as they brought their bodies together. Hands, arms, chests all touched, then lower down the same thing happened.
The sudden physical contact made Sadie gasp. He was sooo hot. So strong, rock solid. She shook her head. He looked perturbed.
‘What?’
‘Nothing, it’s just… it’s you.’
‘Makes a change from it’s not you, it’s me,’
She laughed and looked away. He continued.
‘Anyway what about me? Did I tread on your toe already?’
‘No,’ she laughed, ‘You’re doing fine – just fine.’
‘Fine. Well fine’s better than not fine I suppose! Dancing never was my strong point.’
‘Never mine either – not in these shoes.’
‘Aww… Don’t make me think about the shoes! I was trying not to think about the shoes.’ He pretended to fan himself approvingly at her high, high heels. She blushed.
Another frisson passed between them, and his hands slipped around her waist, pulling her closer. She looked up – he was a good six inches taller than her, even in her highest high heels. Chiselled fea
tures, sexy designer stubble. He was truly magnificent - looking for all the world like he’d made no effort, but the pressed t-shirt and intoxicating freshly-showered aroma gave him away. Reaching his face, she was struck by his expression. Intense - eyes barely showing any blue now, they were so black with desire.
‘You’re beautiful Sam.’
She went to reply but he was lowering his head towards her. Sadie watched him come closer, savouring the moment. She closed her eyes at the last possible second, inhaling deeply as their lips met for the first time.
Slowly at first, then more passionately his mouth explored hers. Sharp darts of desire shot through her, as his tongue nudged between her lips, finding her tongue and infiltrating her senses. This kiss was even more powerful than she’d expected.
He smelled so intensely male, tasted so exotic and rare, that he made her body tingle as he tenderly kissed his way from her lips across to her cheekbones and ears, then back to her lips, cupping her face in his hands, just the way she liked it. His hard body felt so powerful against her soft curves that she immediately wanted more of him. She felt like she was acting out a romance novel – the kind she’d lived and breathed for the last few years to get her fix of schmaltz. Ones where he would have swept her off her feet, and away to a remote castle on a mountainside, in a horse-drawn carriage, and she would have been powerless to resist.
Her imagination was running riot.
So were his hands.
They were in her hair, around her neck, along her shoulders, down her arms, cupping her face and kissing her intently and Sadie loved every second of it.
In that moment, all that existed was a powerful bond, and she didn’t want to break the spell as they moved together, slowly swaying to the music, turning, kissing all the while.
He felt like the happy ending she’d been waiting for all her whole life.
But this wouldn’t be like in a romance novel, Sadie thought, bringing herself back to earth with a bump. One night only - ‘Sam’ today, Sadie tomorrow – don’t forget that. Don’t get carried away.
Hawaiian Affair (Part 1 of 4) (Hawaiian Affair - 30 days to sign the deal - and stay out of love) Page 6