Take a Chance on Me (6 page)

‘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 naff off and go pickle yourself.'

‘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
sunrise
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 from the doorway. 'Oh, and be careful, Mac. I'm not sure I can cope with another lovelorn socialite with her eyes on the prize. I'd just 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, in a waft of Old Spice.

‘She's not like that,' Mac said to himself in the mirror. ‘
Is
she …
deckhand.
'

He practised a smile briefly, but then it faded and he chewed his cheek. It
had
been a long time. Nothing – and no one – had been tempting enough. None of the business deals, none of the rich men's gadgets, and none of the eligible women Simon Leadbetter kept insisting he meet. Even the extreme sports barely filled the gap. And they were getting more and more extreme. And the gap was getting wider and wider.

Maybe this was what he'd been waiting for – maybe
she
was what he'd been waiting for. A challenge, yes, that must be it, and so different to all the others. He certainly felt different in his body.

Well, let's make it a ‘one night only' to remember
.

Incognito. Designer stubble, and tousled hair untouched by gel nor coiffed by professionals. Old denims and a plain T-shirt. No expensive watches or telltale bespoke stuff tonight – no cufflinks or statement rings. No lobster, no champagne. He'd have beer, common-sense food, and no-nonsense company – he couldn't wait.

Mac the billionaire was officially off duty.

There was a message-waiting light flashing when Sadie finally checked in to her hotel room. She sighed with relief when she saw her missing luggage dutifully delivered and marvelled at the decadent suite that she'd been booked into by the advisor who had arranged her meeting with the billionaire guy. Her heart skipped a beat again. Sixteen hours to go. What if she got tongue-tied? What if she botched the presentation completely? What if he said no …
Stop it.
Taking off her jacket and tight skirt, she went straight to the huge bathroom and dumped her sodden bag in the shower tray. Marvelling at the roman baths splendour of the decor, she briefly toyed with the ‘his and hers' expensive toiletries by the ‘his and hers' sinks in a bathroom that was almost the size of her lounge back home. The towels were impossibly white and supremely fluffy, the lighting was plentiful and flattering and she pondered whether to run the bath or take a shower. In the end she decided to run a bath anyway and make her mind up afterwards. She poured almost a whole small bottle of bath soak into the running water and sat wrapped in the pristine bathrobe breathing in the aroma. Her worries were starting to wear off. Rubbing her temples, she went out to the mini bar and glugged a whole bottle of water in one, then pressed a few buttons to listen to the answerphone message.

Beep
. ‘Mum, Georgia's taken my jeggings again, and, no, this time I'm not going to be calm. Oh, and good luck for tomorrow.'

Sadie slumped down on the bed and smiled a mother's half-smile, the one you give when your kids drive you mad but you love them anyway. The machine carried on.

Beep
. ‘Mum, Nana started it. She told me I can wear Abi's jeggings to the sleepover 'cos they were in the washing basket so she can't need them, can she? And anyway they make me look like Kate Moss.
And
she's only jealous 'cos my legs are longer than hers 'cos I take after Dad's side and she doesn't. And talking of Dad, he's cancelled yet another visit, by the way. And Nana put the phone down on him – it was well dramatic! So … em … anyway, hope you're having a nice time and good luck with the billionaire guy.'

Beep
. ‘Mum, Georgia may have Dad's legs but she's got your bum, so if she stretches my jeggings again, she's buying me new ones this time.'

Beep
. ‘Darling, it's your mother. Go away, Georgia, and finish your Greek. Okay German, whatever, it all sounds the same to me. Take no notice of the girls, my love, and I'm sorry they found your hotel number but your mobile wasn't answering. I said not to worry you with arguments about
jeggings
as you're probably preparing for tomorrow. So, if you are, don't worry about calling us back. I told them Mummy needs to concentrate so leave her alone tonight. Hang on.
What
, Georgia? … Yes, yes,
Mum
not
Mummy …
Anyway, my lovely, call me tomorrow after you knock 'em dead, okay? We'll survive till then. Well, I will, but poor Herb's stressing out about the bowls match tonight. Greta is a poor substitute apparently. Oh, well, nice to know I'm missed. Bye.'

Sadie started undressing as the machine continued to play.

Beep. ‘
Oh, I forgot – this might please you – it's your mother again, by the way. There's been a bit in the
Guildford Gazette
about you winning that competition – a big write-up like that hunky journalist promised. Do you remember the nice young blond guy with the big shoulders? The one who was so impressed that someone from our little village had won something so big? I told you he quite liked you. He's used a big photo of you accepting your marketing award in Hawaii on page five! You'd think that PR company would have issued a better one though. You can't see your face very well actually, but it's an impressive award they gave you, isn't it? Don't know if it'll fit in that spot in the shop where you wanted to put it – we might have to move the mung beans as well as the alfalfa. Erm, what else? Your hair definitely looks better now it's blonde. And … No, Georgia, I'm not telling her about your father now, the machine's just beeped at me and I think it's going to cut me—'

Beep.
‘Sorry, darling. Damned machines. Just quickly, something to make you smile. Takings were up today – quite a bit, actually. That bit of PR seems to have helped. But I might as well tell you, I've got my final thousand to put into the bank account – Tom Rosebery's secretary let me know you needed it or they'd bounce stuff. I don't know why the silly man can't talk to me himself. But after this last transfer I'm afraid that's me done, my darling. It's all gone. You've had yours and Helen's had hers – well, most of it. Her nutritionist's course wasn't anywhere near as much as I've given you, but she'd just had her redundancy money even if she did blow it on those silly Jimmy Shoes … yes, Georgia, Jimmy Choos, whatever. Go away, I'm talking to your mother – well, her machine anyway – and it'll cut me off in a minute if I'm not quick. So anyway, sweetheart,' and here the voice got faster, ‘at least you don't have to worry while you're away and anyway if this deal comes off we won't have to worry at all, right?
And Sadie – you know you can do it. Good luck tomorrow, love. Sleep well. Nighty-n—'
Beeeeeeep.

Sadie threw herself backwards onto the bed and sighed a massive sigh. What would she do without her mother? And her sister, Helen. She wouldn't have survived the last four years of Single Mothers R Us, that's for sure. Long hours at her shop to make it a success, to keep paying the bills – just. And to keep the girls at the local village school, with its must-have school uniforms and must-go educational trips, in spite of what her stingy ex-husband had tried to make her do.

Without her sister, who was to thank for Hawaii in the first place, ironically, but who was
persona non-grata
at the moment because of the way it had happened. Helen needed to learn not to take Sadie for granted, so was getting the silent treatment for a few weeks. That was in spite of Helen having forced Sadie into a life-changing situation in Tuscany a couple of months ago, one which she'd never have ventured into on her own – an amazing adventure involving two very hot Italians. But a bit of space would teach Helen not to take liberties next time.

And, of course, without her mother Sadie definitely wouldn't have been able to drop everything when the amazing offer had landed in her lap in Hawaii. To help pull off the deal of the century with a product that couldn't be more up her street. It was truly fate.

And if there was anything Sadie believed in, it was fate.

Fate and destiny.

She hauled herself off the bed and walked back into the bathroom to turn off the bath. Flicking on the wrong light, she got a reality check. In the harsh brightness of spotlights around the mirror, she found her mother looking back. Eurgh! Sadie flinched and turned away. Then looked back and tried pulling her cheeks back towards her ears, giving a slight lifting effect. Then she gave up, shook her head and picked up her sodden handbag.

The whole soggy contents came tumbling out into the shower tray, and she sifted through, separating her precious documents and placing them onto a towel to dry. Then she held the bag up, pulled off a speck of seaweed and smiled, transported back to that moment on the deck. She closed her eyes as her fingers found her cheek, remembering that toe-tingling kiss, then her lips. Then she grimaced as she removed the piece of seaweed that had made its way onto her mouth, and sighed.

‘
Why is it always me, indeed,' she mused out loud.

Careful Sadie, keep your feet on the ground. One night, remember – no Prince Charming, no white charger.
But, hey, the way she was feeling, a jester on a pony would have sufficed.

Beats being at home making organic chilli con quinoa for three.

She tested the water in the bath, nodded her head, then went to sort out her newly delivered luggage – covered with stickers and battered from its journey via Milan. Thank goodness she'd packed a suitable dress. It wasn't expensive but it would do. She was just thankful to finally be out of the tight business suit, and into something more comfortable for the evening ahead.

She also thanked her lucky stars that both her vital laptop, iPad – in need of charging – and backup USB stick had been safely packed in her suitcase not in her submarine-bag.

She couldn't resist. Opening the all-important presentation for the hundredth time in the last two days, she instantly got heart-stoppingly nervous once more, thinking about tomorrow's meeting. Especially about the mountainous task she'd been given. She perused the document.

Thirty days to find an investor, they'd said, and earn herself a huge bumper commission. Debts solved. Bank of Mum repaid. Ex-husband's alimony a mere formality. And be part of a new worldwide product distribution team that would take the international health food market by storm.

It was all happening so fast – perhaps those ‘laws of attraction' books really did work, and all that ‘ohmming' and manifesting and visualisation was beginning to pay off. Or maybe she was just in the right place at the right time to have come across the money men chasing down a deal that was quickly circulating amongst the exclusive clique of venture capitalists? The advisor had explained to her that that was how it all worked, amongst the super-rich. With their ‘superyachts.'

Putting feelers out amongst her old university research department contacts had returned a very swiftly interested team of scientists eager to be involved in this exciting new power water called Frish. Some had even heard of Bill Galloway, the inventor, and were really impressed when she told them about her offer. Maybe now they wouldn't laugh at her and her high hopes.

She was going off in pursuit of her dream – to help improve the health of the nation. So what if it was only the health of Godalming, her little village near Guildford? She had to start somewhere, but admittedly so far it had been a bit of a struggle. The good folks of Surrey might have
heard
of manuka honey and acai berry, but they weren't rushing to buy it just yet. Still, maybe this new Frish performance water would be her salvation – in more ways than one.

Sadie finished checking her presentation and turned off her iPad, then pulled off the bathrobe and the rest of her clothes including the big knickers that helped her get into the skirt. Her belly-pooch sighed in relief and she squidged it. It had been with her as long as her youngest daughter had, and was her weak spot. Another reason why she'd been happily devoting her life to work. And so what if it had cost her a social life? It had all been worth it, hadn't it? If her last attempt at a relationship was anything to go by, she wasn't missing much. Damian had been like having another big kid in the house. Mind you, his stupid shiny red Ferrari had cheesed off the girls' dad so much it was almost worth it just to see it wipe the smug look off his face.

She smiled to herself at the memory of that last awful session in the bedroom, kinked her little pinky finger and wiggled it, remembering it was true what they say about ‘little' men and flashy cars. Another reason why he didn't last long.
In any sense.