Take a Chance on Me Page 2

  This time, they would see that this wasn’t ‘just another hare-brained scheme’ as her old boss had called it, when, post-divorce, the newly single Sadie had left the university research lab to strike out on her own – in more ways than one.

  This time it was Sadie doing it by herself. And if she could only pull off this multi-million pound negotiation, the commission would be incredible. Then let’s see them laugh on the other sides of their faces.

  And in her ex-mother-in-law’s case, that would be at least two.

  The mobile phone in her bag rang and snapped Sadie out of her stupor. She squeaked in surprise, retrieved it and checked the screen before straightening up and answering in her best voice.

  ‘Hello? … Oh, thank goodness.’ She continued walking as she talked. ‘So, where did you find it? … But how could my suitcase end up in Milan? … What time “later”? … Well, it will have to do, won’t it? And I’ll just boil in my business suit till then … Yes, I know you’re doing your best. It’s not your fault, I’m just having a bad …’ She stopped herself.

  Don’t say it, Sadie, think positive. Always think positive.

  ‘It’s … unfortunate,’ she continued. ‘I’ve got an important meeting first thing in the morning so I sincerely hope it will arrive this evening … Yes, that’s my 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, 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, heck.

  ‘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 that was even bigger than the Nomusa. She squinted up to try to see him more clearly. She could hear metal against metal, and smell engine oil and soapsuds … 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 some of the earlier one. Couldn’t help it, you were talking so loud.’

  ‘I was …?’ said Sadie. ‘I—’

  ‘You asked “why me?”,’ he interrupted. ‘I’m guessing something always upsets your plans, right? Well, it always 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. She felt out of place amongst all this opulence, but finding someone with a background 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.’

  ‘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.’

  ‘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 said, then laughed. ‘Except on Sundays.’

  Oh, he’s such a smart alec.

  ‘Bikinis, sarongs, pedal-pushers and pumps at most – that’s the de rigueur dress code for these yachts.’

  Yes, a smart alec who’s making me feel stupid. ‘I know that!’ Sadie said, pulling her jacket down smartly. ‘But there’s a reason I’m dressed like this, actually.’

  ‘A reason …? Oh, I’ve got it! You’re here for Mario’s birthday today, aren’t you! But I thought we ordered a policewoman.’

  ‘I am not a strippergram!’

  ‘I was teasing you. His birthday’s not till Friday.’

  A very smart alec indeed. Much as she didn’t want to, Sadie had to smile. ‘Oh. Good one,’ she said, shifting on her painful feet.

  ‘So, what are you doing here?’ he asked. ‘You don’t look like the usual posh yacht people.’

  ‘You saying I don’t belong? Huh! So says you, with the conspicuous London accent,’ she replied. She could hear a little chuckle. Got him. ‘Exactly what do the usual posh yacht people look like then?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. 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.

  She 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 then losing her luggage and accepting a lift to the quay from the kind ladies on the plane. It was their fault she’d become curious enough to go party-crashing. And her own fault for doing it. Another awkward situation. 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, eventually.

  ‘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. 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-oh,’ she murmured. She wished she hadn’t, but it happened all of its own accord. Uh-oh. 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. Did he know she was chucked off?

  ‘And what did you think of it? The “blue boat”?’

  Good grief 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,’ she said with a cheesy grin.

  When he replied his voice almost purred. ‘Why? Not big enough?’

  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 lord. 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 could she say? The first thing she should do is stop looking at it. She quickly averted her eyes to the right.

  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 first time she’d been abroad alone after the break-up with Stuart. Goodness, was that really four years ago?

  She blinked. 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 had 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. It looked 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 blondish hair. In another life, another lifestyle, he could have been a Bond guy. With better cheekbones …

  She snapped herself out of her musing as the importance of this trip came ricocheting back 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 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 told her 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.’

  ‘Okay, 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 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 here.

  ‘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 deckchair to sit himself down, ran his fingers through his hair and swigged from his bottle of water. On the distant hill something glinted, and caught his eye, but he couldn’t 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, Hawaii 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 and he produces this water called Frish in Maui. And they want me to help with their international marketing and … oh, of course, yes I’ll hold.’

  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 acknowledg
e 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 let you know as soon as things change.’ 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 thirty days it could all be over, you see and then you won’t have to keep calling me. For which I 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. Okay then, if you say so … Oh, did she? … Oh dear, I’m sorry to hear that. Have you tried 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 one for me. 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 the Frish company, 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? Ha-ha. 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?