Take a Chance on Me (2 page)

She shuddered at the alternatives, all too dismal to contemplate, each of them meaning she would still have to lean on pain-in-the-butt Stuart.

Sadie took a moment to catch her breath and looked out at the amazing view on the other side of the jetty. In front of her was the bluest sky she'd ever witnessed, and the most luxurious harbour. She felt like she was on one of those travel programmes and expected Judith Chalmers to come creeping out from a yacht with a microphone, looking all orange and shiny. Sadie was old enough to remember Judith Chalmers' travel shows, another fact that bothered her slightly – she wasn't getting any younger. She caught herself mid-thought.
No! No negativity. Come on, Sadie, think positive.

One minute and some serious focus work later, she was allowing herself to feel a little elation. After all, she, Sadie Samantha Turner, had made it this far.
Who would have ‘thunk it'
as her girls were fond of saying.

Not her critics, who kept telling her she'd never amount to anything, especially Stuart – and his mother.

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.