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

And
maybe just once not to be the sensible one. Just once not to have to obey every
rule. Just for once, not to be... herself.

What
do they say? What happens in Monaco stays in Monaco...?

Suddenly
another voice broke the tension.

‘Mac,
are you finishing up? I’m heading ashore soon.’ An older, distinguished man
appeared in a uniform. He raised his eyebrow when he saw Sadie.

‘Aye
Aye - Cap’n!’ Mac replied.

The
older man rolled his eyes, and then ducked back inside, mumbling to himself.

Sadie
snapped out of the daydream. ‘Sorry, you really mustn’t let me keep you from
your work,’ she said, ‘wouldn’t want you to get in trouble with your boss.’

‘Actually,
I’m the boss.’ he replied, grinning. Sadie eyed up his frayed shorts and oily
hands and smiled. Along with the cockney accent, it didn’t convince her - she
knew a wind-up when she saw one.

‘Hmmm,
sure
you are,’ she said. Mac was looking at her strangely. ‘Seriously,
he looks like he runs a tight ship. You wouldn’t want to cross him, I’m
guessing, the Captain? He’s the boss of your boat, right?’

Mac
hesitated, and then laughed. ‘Well, yes, he’s the “boss of the boat”.’

‘Well
then.’

‘And
no, you’re right - you definitely wouldn’t want to cross our Captain Wiltshire,
all right. You wouldn’t like him when he’s angry - he’s a real slave driver to
us mere deckhands and no mistake. In fact, when he’s in the mood, he’ll make
you walk the plank as soon as look at you!’

‘Well,
before he splices your mainbrace, you’d better get on with scrubbing the deck,
or… shipping ahoy, or...whatever.’ Her clichés dried up along with her courage,
and she was starting to feel a little weak beneath the piercing, inquisitive
gaze of those eyes.

‘Wow,
sounds like you’re right at home with all the ship talk. No wonder you had your
eye on a cruiser.’

‘A
what?’

‘Sunseeker
– cruiser – that “boat” on your brochure – theirs is a cruiser.’

‘Ahh,’
grinned Sadie, ‘and what is this? The “Nomad” - you said?’

‘Yes,
this
is the Nomad,’ he said, puffing up proudly. ‘She’s a Superyacht.’

‘Ohh,
ri-i-i-ght, a “super” yacht,’ she nodded, not sure if he was still winding her
up or if that was a real term. In any case, it was time to own up. Being
footloose on the French Riviera with all its colour and character was making
her more carefree than she could recall – taking the edge off her inhibitions.
Freedom and champagne were a fatal combination. Sadie always got ‘honest’ before
she got drunk.

She
leaned in towards him. ‘Actually can I tell you a secret?’

‘Only
if you don’t have to kill me after.’

‘I’m
really
not
buying a boat... er, cruiser. I was just killing time. The
sales guy thought I was someone else, you see. So – promise you won’t tell anyone
- I gatecrashed.’

‘You
didn’t
!’ Mac leaned in. So close now, she could smell his heady fresh
male odour.

‘I
did. I couldn’t tell him the only boat I’ve ever owned is a gravy boat.’

He
laughed – the warm, throaty sound reverberating in the air. He had a great
laugh.

‘But
I tell you something,’ she went on, aware she was rambling, but unable to stop.
‘When I get my next million, I’ll definitely bear it in mind.’

‘Ahh,
so you’re one of those landlubbers who comes to all the viewings, but never
signs on the dotted line!’

‘What
can I say – so many boats, so little time.’

‘I
thought that was men.’

‘Nope
– no time for men, unless they’re rich!’ Sadie giggled.

Mac
didn’t. 

Out
of nowhere, the Captain’s head suddenly reappeared. ‘Mac can I have a word?’ he
said, making Sadie jump slightly.

‘Can’t
it wait? I’m a bit … busy,’ Mac replied.

‘Best
if it’s now,’ the Captain said, and he disappeared inside again with a ‘
harumph
’.
Mac hesitated, turned to go, then turned back and touched Sadie’s arm.

‘Stay
here a sec, will you?’ he asked, ‘I have a question for you.’

‘Er…OK,’
Sadie replied before she had time to think about it.

‘In
fact, come up and make yourself comfy on the lounger over there – but take off
your shoes before you board.’

‘You’re
kidding me, right?’

‘No,
it’s protocol - if you’re going to be a rich yacht owner, you’d better get used
to it!’ And he disappeared inside.

Sadie
was left standing there, fighting a losing battle with her conscience.  A
feeling of foreboding was being beaten by a buoyant thrill of flirtation. She
rubbed her chest. It filled with palpitations again, as she forced herself to
think of tomorrow’s make-or-break presentation and a boardroom full of
grown-ups. One deep breath later, she was clutching her shoes and walking
slowly up the gangplank, holding tightly onto the rail.

What
am I doing?

The
young Sadie wouldn’t have hesitated to let off steam with a very wild night
out. But the older Sadie had packed her away - years ago - along with the short
skirts and crop tops, and the belly button piercing she’d never managed to
re-insert after the instructor at Center Parcs wouldn’t let her abseil unless
she took it out.

Years
ago.

I’m
not that person anymore.

I
don’t belong here.

She
shook her head and turned to leave, but just then Mac reappeared at the door.
He was smiling but appeared to have been duly reprimanded, and was called back to
the doorway briefly by the Captain who muttered something under his breath then
hovered a while before shaking his head and turning away.

‘Sorry
about that. Where were we?’ said Mac, re-joining her near the loungers.

‘About
to say goodbye I’m afraid. Good luck with your power-yacht.’

‘Superyacht.’

‘Is
that really a thing?’

‘Yes
it’s really a “thing”.’

‘Well,
that, then. Now I’ve really got to go.’ She stood up and went to put her shoes
back on.

‘Oo
– not on here,’ he stopped her. ‘The Captain will kill you if you make any
marks on his precious deck that I’ve spent the last hour scrubbing.’

Sadie
stopped mid-bend, lost her balance, and the whole world went into slow motion.

To
Sadie’s utter dismay, her leg went one way and her bag went the other. She
swayed unsteadily, nearly toppled over the side, and then lurched straight
forward - right into his open arms.

Her
precious designer bag, however, made a bid for freedom. It swung loose, and
before she could react, it was in the air, over the railings and down the side
of the hull, making a small plop as it fell into the sea, yards below.

‘Oh
my God! It’s sinking, it’s sinking!’ she cried, making a bid for the edge.

‘Hold
on, Trouble!’ He pulled her back.

‘My
life’s in that bag!’

‘Well
we’d better get it back then, hadn’t we? Allow me…’

In
one smooth movement, he launched himself over the side.

Sadie
was speechless. She felt her knees going weak, and tottered further along,
trying to get a better view.
Please God let him bring it back.

She
squinted her eyes, breathed deeply, and waited for him to reappear. Her mind
went into overdrive, playing out various ‘no-mobile’ scenarios, and struggled
to even remember her home number. The seconds ticked by and Sadie’s mind raced
as she looked up and down, left and right. Shoeless, on the deck of a
multi-million pound yacht, it suddenly felt terribly, terribly wrong. She
should have left earlier, whilst the going was good. Before the doofus inside
her came out to play. 

Why
is it always me?

Moments
later there was a tap on her foot and a massive squelch by her feet. There, in
all its water-logged glory, was her best posh bag. 

Or
more accurately, her only posh bag.

It
didn’t matter that it had been half price in the sale, it was her pride and joy
- a combined gift from her mum, sister, and two daughters for Christmas and
Mothers’ Day all rolled into one.

Thank
God it wasn’t leather.

Two
hundred pounds worth of Lulu Guinness bright red designer vinyl was unique
enough with its cameo queen’s head on one side. Now the PVC Queen had a green
sea-weedy beard. Sadie watched in a daze as her gallant hero hauled himself up
onto the deck, cascades of water running in rivulets over his shoulders, past
his neck chain, down his chest and across his washboard stomach before
cascading down his bronze thighs.

He
raised his arms above his head and pushed his hair back from his eyes.

He’s
a Chippendale, he’s actually a Chippendale,
thought Sadie, transfixed.

Then
he bent down and gallantly pulled off the slimy plant, tilted the bag and
grinned as a stream of water drained through the zip onto the deck. Then he
handed it back.

‘Thank
you,’ she croaked, looking up at him standing there, dripping but triumphant.

He
bowed. ‘It was my pleasure, M’Lady, to rescue your life for you.’

She
beamed. ‘You’ve no idea how long I’ve waited for someone to say that.’ Then she
surprised them both by throwing her arms around his still wet neck and kissing
him on the cheek.

‘Mmmmwah!
That was to say
thank you
,’ she said, unsteadily. But instead of letting
her pull away, he slid his arm around her waist, and drew her towards him, till
his lips were almost touching hers.

She
gasped.

‘And
this, is to say
you’re welcome
,’ he said. Then he went to kiss her, and
at the last minute, planted a lingering kiss on her cheek instead, just grazing
the very tip of her mouth. Sadie’s most sensitive bit. Her knees buckled
slightly under the powerful jolts of desire darting around her body. When he
stopped, and in reverse brushed the edges of her lips again as he pulled back
slightly, she didn’t back away.

Standing
there virtually nose-to-nose, she felt her heart pounding and knew this should
stop before it began, but she was mesmerised by those full lips that had just
touched her skin. The zing was still coursing through her traitorous body.
More,
more.
He stood his ground, looking deep into her eyes, so close she could
almost taste him. She certainly wanted to.

For
the longest moment, they were motionless, her arms still round his neck, his
arms still round her waist. He was dripping wet and half-naked and this felt
good. 

The
temptation to feel those lips again was overpowering. But she was not the sort
of girl to start something she knew she couldn’t finish. She stepped away from
him.

‘Long
time since I’ve been given a thank you like that.’

‘Long
time since I’ve needed to give one,’ she said, and felt her cheeks flush.

He
looked thoughtful. ‘Actually, I was thinking there’s another way you could
thank me.’ He suddenly seemed almost bashful.

‘Ohh?’ 
If he couldn’t hear her heart before, he must surely be able to now.  ‘And what
might that be?’ 

‘Why
don’t you meet me ashore this evening. If you’re free. It’s my last night here
- the Nomad sets sail tomorrow.’

‘Oh
God, the old “one night of pleasure”’ ploy,’ Sadie said.

He
just smiled back, and raised his eyebrows. An air of vulnerability had washed
over him, waiting for her verdict.
How endearing.

‘I,
em…’ Sensible Sadie was tugging at her conscience -
refuse, young lady. Get
out of here.
But Fun Sadie was winning the battle. Right now, she should be
heading back to a computer file full of facts and figures, budgets and cash
flow forecasts. But she felt magnetised to the spot. The epitome of torn.

But
you know every word already. Every page, every projection. 

Maybe
a little ‘R and R’ tonight would help her get centred for tomorrow – help her
go all-out to impress the investor, the top man himself – all she had to do was
make him like her and want to invest in her. And who didn’t like Sadie? This
Mac guy certainly did – she’d felt it in his body, seen it in his eyes.

‘I’m
not sure. You heard me earlier – people to see...’

‘…Places
to go, yes I know,’ he added. ‘But I’m still asking.’

A
loud ‘fairy-tale’ alert was ringing in her ears. The thought of getting up
close and personal with this sexy stranger was like her purest fantasy. But
this wasn’t a fantasy – it was real life. Although, come to think of it, the
whole of the last month had been something of a dream… so why break the spell
now? Winning a competition, jetting off to far flung corners of the earth to
pick up her prize, and beginning the helter skelter business ride she was now
clinging onto by her fingertips. So why not add a fling?
No-one would know.
And if she didn’t do it now, it might be months – years – before she got
another chance for a no-strings encounter like this.