Hawaiian Affair (Part 1 of 4) (Hawaiian Affair - 30 days to sign the deal - and stay out of love) (5 page)

‘Well?’
he asked.

‘A-are
you always such a quick worker?’ she gasped.

‘Only
with anyone in a tight navy suit and very inappropriate footwear.’

‘Even
the women?’

He
laughed.

‘Mac
– I need you - now please!’ came the Captain’s voice again.

‘With
you in a sec, Cap’n. Just finishing up here.’ He turned to Sadie, ‘Or have we
just started?’

She
smiled.

He
beamed back at Sadie, he genuinely glowed, and she felt a thrill of awareness,
a rush of adrenalin. And an overpowering urge to dance a little.

‘So
you’ll come?’ His pleasure was so youthful, so exuberant. But romantic
interludes had definitely not been on the agenda this trip.
Oh God…

She
frowned.

‘Look,’
he said, ‘if you’re too busy, or you don’t want to, then just say. I’m a bit out
of practice at all this asking-out stuff. It’s just that you happen to be very
attractive,’ to which Sadie looked down before she started blushing, ‘and fun.
Plus I happen to be celebrating the end of an era, so I’d like very much for
you to join me. If you’d like to. Unless you have other plans…’

‘It’s
not that.’

‘Or
maybe you’ve already got someone.’

‘It’s
not that either…’

‘So?’

 ‘Well,
I would
like
to meet you this evening…’

‘I
sense a ‘but’.’

‘…but,
well,’ she bit her tongue. Her usual response was so nearly out of her mouth
- but I have to get back to my children
. But for once, she didn’t.

Not
for precisely 22 hours and fifteen minutes.

She
took a deep breath.

‘
But
,
it would mean interrupting my very tight itinerary and rescheduling my commitments.
And as for asking my “staff” to entertain themselves at dinner tonight – they
won’t like it, won’t like it at all.’ He hung on her every word. There were no staff,
nor any elaborate plans for dinner, but she was quite liking playing along. And
it had been ages since she’d been out on the town. ‘
But..
it’s not
impossible.’ He brightened. ‘In fact, I have to say it
is
quite
appealing, the prospect of taking some time out from yet another packed
business trip.’

‘My
thoughts entirely.’

‘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.

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 signs.
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 sun
rise
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.