Take a Chance on Me Page 8

  It brought him happiness, it brought him trouble. He’d earned every penny of it and nowadays he’d found ways of spending that resonated with who he’d become.

  This yacht had brought him the best kind of happiness – it had been a hard-won prize – unique, admired. It made him feel part of the select group of people rich enough to not only afford to buy it, but to maintain it, crew and all. A carefully chosen crew, genial and full of camaraderie – some of whom had known him since he was a rookie property developer and began taking weekend sailing courses. It meant a lot that they treated him with no airs and graces – at least when no outsiders were around.

  Yes, he could totally be himself here, cocooned away from the glare of publicity and other people’s expectations, when it wasn’t being rented out. Which was of course partly why he’d bought it.

  Mac took out his smartphone and checked through the calendar – hired out to capacity and paid for months in advance – no more nights for him here till the end of the summer. Dammit. Sucks for him, but it’d be a busy season for the crew. This year, at least. A pang of concern about the lack of bookings for next year sprang up but he parked that thought in the same silo as ‘check-up on Philip Tremain’.

  Mac picked up the only photo frame on show now in his elegant VIP stateroom. Mac and Captain James Wiltshire, plus financial advisor and old friend, Simon Leadbetter, all standing at the helm of the Nomad, on the day he bought it, early the previous year. No BJ McKowski money needed for this venture. And Tremain outbid. Hence it had meant so much to Mac. He smiled, remembering the look on his old adversary’s face when he discovered he’d been beaten to the post by Mac.

  Touching the photo frame, he saw the Captain’s burly chest puffed out so far you almost couldn’t see the slight, suited, serious figure of distinguished gent Simon, raising a glass beside him. And Mac with his usual slicked back hair and designer shades.

  Almost as rewarding as owning the craft was seeing the Captain’s beaming face taking the helm of the vessel that day – his new ‘baby’ was twice the size of Mac’s previous yacht.

  Mac’s mouth quirked into a wry smile, remembering the satisfaction he’d felt to be placed at the top of the wait-list, despite, or rather because of, Tremain’s foolish attempts to bribe the selling agent. Stupid man, thought Mac.

  A great photograph. A great day. It had made him very, very happy.

  Then Mac frowned when he thought about what was kept safely behind the yacht photo, inside the frame.

  Sure, that had been a good day. But sometimes a day starts off well, but ends badly. He felt a pang of regret. He’d certainly had his fill of bad days too. And the biggest reminder of one of his worst mistakes was millimetres away from his fingers inside the back cover. He turned it over, hesitated, but then went ahead and flipped open the back of the frame and pulled out a small snapshot hidden inside. He held it up and blinked at it.

  He was looking at himself, a few years ago, holding the hand of a small child. Yes, it still hurt. He looked at it blankly. Pain coursed through his heart as it always did. A great photograph, a nice moment, but the day had ended up really, really bad.

  But it provided a watershed. From then on he obeyed a very important business rule. One that he now lived his life by, and based every decision on, one he was renowned for amongst his colleagues and competitors.

  ‘Never mix business with pleasure – or children.’

  Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

  Mac’s brow creased. How old would the boy be now? The whole experience had been alien. He’d spent most of his life getting as far away from children as he could. And then that debacle had happened, and reminded him why. But it wasn’t the kid’s fault.

  He moved it towards the rubbish bin in the corner of his room, then changed his mind and slid the small photo back into the rear of the frame, and put it back on the shelf.

  End of another era.

  Still, onwards and upwards. Suddenly he felt very weary. Time for a change – time for a new chapter.

  Mac picked up his belt and sneakers and entered his walk-in closet full of expensive designer clothes, row after row of pristine jackets and trousers, plus shoes, belts, ties, and cufflinks. At the end there were a dozen expensive suit bags containing whole outfits – complete with little Polaroids stuck to the front of each. Easier for Mac to choose the outfits for a valet to pack when he was in a rush. The final photo made him stop in his tracks and laugh out loud. Instead of a slick suit ensemble, someone had put a picture of some shabby old tramp, and stuck Mac’s face on it. Banter, there was always banter.

  He reached below that suit bag to his favourite chest of old clothing and replaced his worn belt inside it. He also replaced the shabby pair of loafers – his first pair of Tod’s – a natural choice for tonight as they were a super-expensive brand but with no obvious designer label on show. Tidying up the fifteen-year-old frayed laces, he felt the frisson of first-date excitement again – the one she’d rekindled. The one he hadn’t felt in years. He stared at the shoes, remembering.

  Until tonight, he’d forgotten what his life used to be like out of the spotlight. To go out for an evening on shore and just be treated like a normal man.

  Not to be kowtowed to.

  Not to be surrounded by sycophants.

  Not to be treated like royalty wherever he went. Just to be ordinary. To be Mac. Well, tonight, thanks to this gorgeous woman, he’d had a trip down memory lane, and loved every minute. For the right reasons, or wrong ones, money hadn’t even got a mention.

  So often, having so much of it made it meaningless. He ran his fingers along the row of handmade suits – navies, blacks, charcoals. Each silk tie cost more than the average family’s weekly shopping basket. He shrugged. Reaching the end of the row, he walked back out and closed the closet door behind him. Sure, wealth was a blessing, but it was also, undeniably, a curse.

  And anyway, lately, just lately, there’d been that gaping hole – something missing, something important, something money couldn’t buy.

  And if it could buy it, it couldn’t keep it.

  Deep down, Mac knew exactly what that something was, but tried hard to ignore it. He had everything else, everything he’d ever wanted to own and that would have to do, right?

  Sadly the answer was as clear as day – to anyone else. To Mac, it was a gnawing feeling that crept over him when he closed his eyes at night, and opened them in the morning. He shook himself often to chase it away. But no matter – he was certain the brand new venture he was planning would help take the edge off the emptiness, and take him in a new direction. Yes, a change was as good as a rest.

  But some things never change, he realised as he topped up his drink. Even though this lady had reached parts of him none of the others had, lately, it had still been his plan to let her walk away. And maybe Sam deserved better than that, so perhaps it was a good thing he’d not got his way tonight.

  It was so hard to learn new tricks – he truly was an old dog.

  Taking one final look in the mirror, he shrugged. An old dog, that’s for sure. She’d probably say he looked ‘weathered’. Too much time in bright sunshine. His private trainer, private doctor and his personal health expert all told him to use factor 50 whenever he went skiing or mountain climbing, but in truth he knew he wouldn’t bother. He still scrubbed up pretty well. He’d never give George Clooney a run for his money, but hell, George Hamilton better watch out.

  And the scars … well, he’d deserved them. One day maybe he’d succumb to the Captain’s suggestion of laser surgery, but for now he used the camouflage creams. Except tonight. The disguise – the covering up who he really was – was for other nights, to provide the mask, to complete the shroud of formality, the uniform of a billionaire. But tonight he’d been free of it all.

  Yes, tonight had been a good ni
ght.

  Mac took his drink and made his way back up to the deck, barefoot on the smooth polished wood once more. He felt the cool boards beneath his feet – that’d help take some of the heat away. He gazed out over the bay into the distance at the sea wall and the dark sky, a vague smell from an on board barbecue floating somewhere in the breeze. The gentle night air cooled his heated body, and beckoned him to his new life beyond. Ironic that having made his first fortune in property, big executive penthouses and sprawling ranches all over the US, he would be moving into the next phase of his career on a glorified mobile home. A home that didn’t have a woman. Any woman. Even a woman like Sam. Especially a woman like Sam.

  On the breeze, he could swear he smelled her fragrance and his heart began to pound again the same way it had that afternoon when she’d walked along the jetty. Blonde hair falling out of her up-do. Curves, confidence and an air of being comfortable in her own skin. So refreshing. Plus the rare thrill of the backchat. The high cheekbones and her beautiful green eyes had helped too. And that walk. And those shoes. And the noise they made on the cobblestones. In fact, he could hear it right now.

  Mac shook his head, rubbed his eyes and looked at his drink, then looked back again along the jetty. He couldn’t believe what he saw.

  ‘Ahoy there ship mate. Is it too late for a tour?’

  Chapter Four

  Sadie’s heart was pounding thirteen to the dozen but from the moment she’d bid him goodbye, there’d been a pull in her chest like she’d never felt before. So much so, that as soon as the taxi had arrived back at the hotel, she knew she had to ask the driver to turn right round again. Then when they’d reached the quay, she’d changed her mind and asked him to about-turn once more. But when the hotel was again in sight, Sadie had finally changed her mind for the last time, and headed back to the jetty, telling herself it was ‘now or never’.

  It was a philosophy that had embraced her, rather than her embracing it – but ‘now or never’ it was. Whether it was the exotic location going to her head, or being intoxicated by the magic of that night, or just telling herself she simply wanted to see inside a ‘superyacht’ then leave, Sadie had felt a magnetic pull too hard to resist. She had to return. Exactly what for, she didn’t know. But she hoped she’d soon find out.

  And there he was, looking amazed to see her again, and hurrying down the gangplank to greet her. Thank God. For Sadie, it was win-win either way – if it turned out to be literally a tour and a nightcap, then she’d at least have pictures of the inside of a superyacht to show the girls. And if it became another soulless one-night stand, then hey-ho, at least physically it’d prove she’d still got it, and it would probably be the last steamy session before the months – maybe years – of abstinence to come. And if by chance any potential encounter turned out to be filled with more than that, more feeling, and the same sort of connection she’d had since she laid eyes on him, then this night might even inspire her to be a bit less cynical about finding a good man – when the time came. Plus, she was a big girl – and actually, she rather felt like having a close encounter of the physical kind while there was very little chance of anyone knowing about it. So, all well and good. Whatever happened from here on in, this would be a trip to remember.

  Mac greeted her with a huge kiss.

  ‘Hey, you,’ she said.

  ‘Hi, Trouble.’

  ‘I decided if I’m going to own a “Ferretti Custom blah blah” one day, I should really take advantage of a private tour if it’s offered to me,’ she joked.

  ‘Glad to hear it. Ferretti Custom Line 124.’

  ‘Yes, that. And if that nightcap is still on offer …’

  ‘It most certainly is. This way for the grand tour.’

  Ten minutes later, they were back in the expensively decorated salon, having completed a brief lap of the vessel, avoiding any nooks and crannies where anything would have given him away. Hopefully no clues, no questions.

  ‘So, is the owner in that other bedroom we avoided?’

  Spoke too soon.

  ‘He’s off duty tonight. Went ashore.’

  ‘Shame – looks like I’ll have to slum it with the paid help, then.’

  Before he could reply, she took his face in her hands and kissed him hard and long. He returned the favour and lifted her in the air. Her little squeak of surprise amused him. He deposited her effortlessly on the expansive c-shaped sofa in the lounge area.

  ‘Wow, you’re strong,’ she said.

  He responded by swinging into an Atlas pose, with one fist on his forehead and the other on his hip. Wanting to make her laugh came so easily. Then picking up a remote control he poised it like a baton in the air.

  ‘Music …?’

  ‘… maestro, please,’ she quipped.

  He dramatically flicked the remote, having already picked the music earlier that evening, and the speakers sprung to life, filling the room with the sensual sound of soul music.

  ‘You certainly know your way around, don’t you?’

  ‘So I’m told.’

  He slumped down beside her on the sofa and went to kiss her again, but a look of trepidation crossed her face and he cocked his head to the side.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Mac, I …’ she paused. ‘I don’t usually—’

  ‘Neither do I.’

  ‘No, seriously, it’s … been a while. That sounds crass, doesn’t it?’

  He paused, softened, felt a flicker of concern show on his features. ‘Samantha Businesswoman really is all work and no play, huh?’ She nodded, apologetically. Leaning down on his elbow he kissed her in reply, gently, tenderly. She smiled gratefully and took a deep breath.

  ‘Can I get you anything to drink?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Eat?’

  ‘No, thanks. Game of Scrabble?’

  He laughed. ‘I’d prefer some other games, if you don’t mind … Or else we can just lay here for a while.’

  He surprised himself. Since when was he the New Man? Sadie responded by pulling him towards her by his T-shirt.

  ‘Just lay here? Next to this body? The hell we will … I was just warning you, that’s all. I’m a bit out of practice.’ And with that, he pulled her down next to him, and she sank back onto the sofa beneath his heated kisses.

  ‘Well, with what I’ve got in mind, you won’t need to worry about having many skills at all.’

  Sadie was surprised to find herself relax completely beneath his tender kiss. Without leaving her lips once, he moved her arms above her head, and caressed down the sides of her body and back up again, making her shiver with anticipation. Then he looked into her eyes, searching once more, then kissed her delicately, from her mouth, down to her neck, over her collarbone, sensuous on her sensitive skin, making her body quake a little with every move. It felt so good.

  ‘Mmmm …’ she murmured. ‘Looks like I’m in the hands of a master.’

  He responded by moving across on top of her slightly, his knee rising up between her thighs, taking her hemline up with it.

  She gripped his powerful leg, feeling the roughness of his jeans on her bare thighs. Tantalisingly trapped beneath his bodyweight, her arms still pinned above her, she responded by rubbing her body against him gently. He groaned. All the while she could feel his lips and tongue exploring her skin. His fingers traced a path back down the inside of her arm. She could feel her pulse beginning to race and her breath begin to quicken.

  Mac paused ever so briefly, giving himself time to feel the full impact of getting intimate with Sadie’s amazing body at last, having wanted her all night. He watched her voluptuous breasts heaving, her face flushed, struggling to retain her composure. Caught in the dim light of the salon, she looked alluring, and sexy as hell in the full throes of being turned on. He moved up to her face, looked deep
into her eyes.

  ‘Give me your tongue,’ he said.

  Sadie poked it out at him cheekily, retracting it just as he made a little lunge for it.

  ‘Give me it. Just the tip.’

  She extended her tongue slightly between her parted lips until it was just peeping out between her teeth. He ran his tongue around it, flicked it delicately, then sucked it gently, and her sharp intake of breath told him she knew exactly what he meant by it. Then without his eyes leaving hers, he moved back down towards her breast. Using his chin to tantalisingly pull down the stretch fabric of her dress just a millimetre at a time, he bared her skin, lower and lower, stopping just before he reached her skimpy bra. The enticing mound rose towards his mouth as she panted, the curves exactly as he’d imagined they would be, hoped they would be.

  ‘If only you knew how much I’ve been wanting to do this,’ he whispered, as he darted his tongue below the laciness of her bra, down towards her achingly hard nipple. His tongue just skimmed the tip of it. She gasped. Pausing, barely touching, tantalising and teasing her, she bucked beneath him.

  ‘If only you knew how much I’ve been wanting you to do that,’ she replied.

  So he did it again, with the other nipple this time, but still oh so slowly. He brought his head back up to her, pushed a tendril of hair back from her face, and kissed her lips softly and tenderly, as she caught her breath, then suddenly kissed her deeply, his tongue thrusting inside her mouth.

  Sadie felt the overwhelming need to have him inside her, as he continued to make love to her mouth, and tease her with his tongue. She freed one of her hands – she couldn’t resist – to caress his face, then his neck, shoulders, and down his back, feeling his rippling muscles hard beneath his shirt, his back tapering into a smaller waist. Mmmm – runner’s stomach, swimmer’s arms, well-defined thighs – the man certainly kept himself in good shape.

  Her hand went down and down, found the rounded muscles of his rear, and caressed firmly, before moving around to the front. Rubbing up and down as she moved slowly across, nearer and nearer, but not quite touching the hard ridge beneath the zip, she thrilled at his reaction as his breathing sped up to match hers. He caught her hand again, just before she moved the final inch. She hadn’t lost her touch.