Take a Chance on Me (17 page)

‘But …?'

‘But it worked.'

‘It worked? He said yes?'

‘Indeed. As of now MCA Associates and Ms Sadie Turner can be partners. If we can seal this deal, you will earn your commission for your finder's fee, and the subsequent payment for overseeing the studies to publication in peer-reviewed journals. In addition to which, you will become Europe's sole importer of Frish, and hold the distribution rights for the whole of the UK.' He held out his hand. ‘If that's what you want.'

Sadie let out a little squeak. ‘
Do I ever!
'
She couldn't help the massive beam spreading across her face. Glad that only Simon was in the room, she finally allowed herself to relax fully, stopped holding her belly in, and took a massive deep breath.

I can't believe it!

She went to hug him, then decided to just shake his hand right off his shoulder.

‘May I reclaim my hand, please, Ms Turner.' He grinned.

Sadie smiled into the middle distance.

‘Pheeeeeew!' she said, allowing it all to sink in.

‘Pheeeew indeed,' he said, putting his hand on her arm, and bringing her back to the present. ‘But, Sadie, we have the rest of the company due diligence to go through, before we can sign. And there's more. And I'm afraid it's a bit of a bombshell.'

‘Oh hell, what now? I mean, do go on.'

‘Mr Anderson has postponed his other appointments due to the pressing nature of the latest turn of events.'

‘He has? You mean because of the Tremain Group?'

‘Yes – they are arch-rivals, I'm afraid, as you could probably tell. They worked together once – we all did.' Simon looked sad for a split second, then continued. ‘Then they fell out, and a while back, he beat Mr Anderson to an executive island. And a chain of health food restaurants. But Mac trumped him on a yacht purchase last year. Tremain's face was a picture, if I recall. They thought they had it in the bag with their underhand methods.'

‘This Tremain guy sounds like a piece of work.'

‘Indeed he is, as you say, a “piece of work”. A big piece. Now his group seem to be intent on stealing away Mac's business at every opportunity. And – sad to say – vice versa.'

‘Oh.'
Now I understand.
‘He doesn't like to lose, does he?'

‘Not at all. In any capacity. I fear it will be his undoing one day. That's one of the reasons I was keeping my ear to the ground for someone like you, Sadie, for a deal like yours. One he will excel at. One that's perfect for his current situation – he needs to triumph over adversity, shall we say.'

‘And I'm guessing Tremain is the adversity. So he'd better act fast then, huh?'

‘
That is precisely, Ms Turner, why Mr Michael Anderson is travelling immediately to Hawaii.'

Sadie's mouth fell open.

‘As we speak, he and BJ are en route to the airport. BJ's private jet will be flying directly to meet the manufacturers in Hawaii tomorrow and secure the deal within two weeks. Even faster than the thirty days they stipulated. Mr Anderson is, after all, a fast worker. One of the fastest.'

‘You can say that again.'

The irony was lost on Simon.

‘Well, since time is of the essence it seems Mr Anderson wants to cover all the avenues in this one trip – and that includes his chief asset.'

Sadie looked perplexed.

‘You, Sadie. Mr Anderson has reserved a place on the plane for you.'

‘Is there a phone I can use, please?' Sadie asked, breathlessly, fiddling with her jacket, and checking her newly collected suitcase while she waited. The pretty receptionist in the hotel lobby signalled for Sadie to wait a second while she finished her phone call.

Sadie's mind was racing, and in true fashion, she got clumsier as the nerves kicked in. A yacht yesterday, and now a private jet.
What the hell do you wear on a private jet? Not a business suit, not repeating my Club Class faux pas
, she thought. But realising most of her other clothes needed washing, she just shrugged and reached round to undo the button of her tight waistband. She exhaled properly for the first time that morning, and began fiddling with the leaflets on the counter near the receptionist. The girl raised an eyebrow as several of them cascaded down over her keyboard, and Sadie smiled sheepishly, and pinned her arms tightly to her sides. Finally, the girl finished her call and asked Sadie to repeat her question.

‘Bien sûr, madame,' she answered, pointing towards a courtesy phone at the end of the desk. Sadie sprinted towards it.

She could sure use some friendly words from home right now.

If her mother could cope for another few days, Sadie's roller coaster ride was about to go stratospheric.

Simon's words echoed in her head while she waited in turn for the phone.
You've got an hour before we take off from the private airfield.

She considered her suitcase full of dirty suits, damp shoes and big pants, plus no sarong in sight and only a tiny bit of factor 50 left. Sadie had nearly declined. But there was no way she could miss out on an invitation like this one. The taste of adventure she'd just had, and the desperate need to secure this deal, gave her no choice. Plus there was an uneasy feeling that this was also a test. Another one.

Of course I'll join you.

The taxi to the airport was waiting outside.

Now all she had to do was break it to her mum that it would be dinner for just three again tonight, because Sadie wouldn't be coming back. Having already given up one bowls match to keep an eye on the girls, her mum wouldn't be happy. Sadie knew she was pushing it and she felt like a teenager again as the phone rang in Turner's Health Store.

‘Mum, it's me. I've got some news for you and I'm not at all sure you'll like it.'

Mac was waiting on the private jet, gazing out on to the tarmac.

The journey to the airport in his chauffeur-driven car had been tedious. Mac wanted time alone to think, but BJ McKowski had insisted on coming along. Never one to miss out on a drama, BJ had promptly cancelled his plans and would now also fly to Hawaii. Usually it was all good banter, listening to BJ go on and on about wine, women and sarongs. But today the non-stop chat had been plain annoying.
Another sign it was time for a change
, thought Mac. Maybe Simon was right. It was too late with this deal, though, so best take advantage of his business partner's private bar, private jet and public liability.

Monaco wasn't as bad as St Tropez for wall to wall eye candy, but BJ had still given a commentary on every pair of breasts they'd seen through the tinted windows as they wound their air-conditioned way down the tree lined avenues, a wavering heat haze visible just above the parched pavements. The day was even hotter than yesterday, if such a thing was possible, and Mac felt a pang of regret. He tried to work out what it was, rubbing his stomach and furrowing his brow.

‘You got an appetite for some of that ass? I'd join ya if I wasn't betrothed – you know what women are like when they get a ring on their finger – hold on tight and never let you go,' BJ had said, then stopped. ‘Apart from your … Well, hey, look at those – I swear they're
real!
'

Mac ignored him. He needed some peace and quiet to process the last twenty-four hours of groundbreaking events, but he got neither. In typical BJ fashion, a constant stream of jokes about how Tremain might whip Mac's ass this time, filtered past the muzak playing in the back of the limo. The older guy took delight in making Mac bristle with a less-than-PC appraisal of Sadie and her ‘assets'. If they hadn't been about to take an international flight together, he'd have jumped out of the car right there and let him continue on alone.

Once seated on the plane, BJ continued his onslaught. ‘That Turner gal filled that skirt in all the right places, didn't ya think?' he said.

‘Can't say I noticed,' Mac replied, not looking BJ in the eye.

‘Come on, Mac, I've known you enough years to recognise when you're enamoured of a lady. You were watching her, more than her presentation.'

Mac hadn't responded.

‘Although,' BJ went on, ‘I found
her
“PowerPoint's” rather intriguing.'

Rolling his eyes, Mac finally gave in. ‘Yes, okay, she was quite attractive,' he said, knowing his old colleague well enough to wisely opt for the shortest route to being left alone.

This time, it didn't work.

‘There, I knew it. Ya see, I can read you like a book.'

‘Business and pleasure, BJ. Business and pleasure.'

‘There's always an exception, Mac, my friend.
You
of all people should know that.'

‘I've told you before, that was the reason why there's now a rule.'

‘Rule, schmule. I remember the rack on that lawyer gal – you must have been gagging for it by the time you got together and did the dirty deed?'

The hiccup had been years ago but BJ had a long memory, and took sadistic pleasure out of reminding Mac of it every so often.

‘Leave it, BJ.'

‘It wasn't your fault the boy's father had a change of heart, you know. But it's best the child was with his parents – his real parents. You of all people have to agree with that, don't ya? Lucky escape, tho – you all but had a ring on that little lady's finger.'

‘No, it was fate, BJ, old boy,' said Mac through a clenched jaw. ‘Fate and destiny.'
And Mac would have controlled his own fate, if he'd just stuck to the rule
.

‘Well, I think it's high time you put down some roots. You're not gettin' any younger.'

Mac resumed staring out of the window. BJ tried a different approach.

‘Although you do still run like a greyhound, I'll give ya that. I know how important this deal must be for you. I couldn't believe mah ears when ah heard you pull out of tomorrow's training event in London. But are you still on course for the big one? How
is
the training going?' he asked, changing the subject.

Mac sighed. ‘Not a bad swim this morning. I didn't beat last week's times though, when I had Frish. Definitely helped my stamina.'

‘Yeh, if it gives
you
more endurance, it's definitely the right product to add to our portfolios, assuming we can foil Tremain. But here's what I wanna know. Does it also
make “things”
last
a whole lot longer
, if ya know what I mean?' BJ laughed, beginning to shred Mac's nerves. Fortunately, just at that moment, the stewardess came along with BJ's lunch order.

Mac took himself off to the on board bar to get some water.
What a morning.

He toyed with his drink, standing at the small bar at the front of the plane. When he'd seen Sam … Sadie … in the meeting room, Mac had nearly fallen over in surprise. He was perturbed by seeing her there, but more importantly, by the sudden realisation that the very first thing he'd felt was that old devil – suspicion.

She
had
lied to him, deceived him. But this time
he
was just as guilty. Nevertheless it had still unsettled him.

Old habits die hard.

She'd looked amazing, a total professional, commanding in her sexy, fitted skirt-suit. And ‘those' shoes.

But should I have confronted her straight away? Given her no time to think?

No, not with Simon there, let alone BJ and the entourage. Couldn't risk losing face.
I'd never hear the end of it if they found out what had happened.

That she'd flatly denied tracking him down to surreptitiously bed him was consoling, but not enough to prevent him being absolutely mortified that he'd slept with one of his business contacts – albeit a potential contact. After vowing
neve
r to do it again.

Last time, when it had all gone wrong, Simon had given Mac some wise counsel.
You're both over twenty-one. Either accept it, do the deal and move on, or throw in the towel right now.

Since Mac chose very carefully when and where his towel got thrown, and whose ring to throw it in, there really had been only one option.

Now as he stood at the bar and nursed his iced water, he felt the pang of hurt deep in his stomach. The damage had still been done.

Mac remembered the rest of that conversation with Simon. How Mac had ranted about living life by his own rules from then on.
No one else in the way, no one to consider
. Turning to extreme sport for comfort, religiously training for the toughest of all triathlons – the Ironman – he'd never missed a session or an event. Yet even his rigid routine was taking a back seat since this Sadie Samantha Businesswoman had arrived on the scene.

What turmoil one woman could bring.
He smiled.

But it would all be worthwhile to beat Tremain again. And it would be of some comfort – much more minor of course – to see the smile on Sadie's face when they signed the deal and Sadie could collect her payment. The one that would save her business. Mac gulped down the drink and pushed the glass forward to the barman for another. He felt the icy water sliding down inside his chest, calming his stomach.

This business opportunity had fired up his juices more than anything he'd been offered in a long time. But it was only being up against his biggest adversary … wasn't it?

Mac sat down in a plush chair near the bar and flicked through his iPad looking belatedly at the pages of the proposal, responding to the niggly feeling in his gut that he'd missed something. But he couldn't concentrate and found himself skimming through instead of his usual fine-tooth combing. His mind kept coming back to Sadie, struggling to balance the out-and-out suspicion with a feeling of protectiveness and compassion. To see her, so green and new, fired up with a spark in her eye at the thought of achieving something so huge, so unjaded by years in the boardroom … it awakened a part of him he thought had died long ago. And he was the one who could help her dream come true.

He twinged a little, realising with a jolt that it was that very thought that was bringing the
warmest
glow to his chest. Despite their rocky start. Well, fine, so he was helping a newbie – a single businesswoman in need – maybe he was more into charity work than he thought.

He could only assume her
real
reason for last night's game was exactly what she'd told him at the time – that she simply preferred one-night stands. She was that sort of woman. Well, fine by him, he was no one to talk.

At least with Sadie he was assured that last night would have no impact on their business relationship going forward. She was a true grown up. A dedicated single woman, if he remembered the conversation right, putting business first, so nothing to get in the way of this deal being swiftly finalised. Nothing.

But, hey, a principle is a principle – there could be absolutely no repeat of last night. Pah. ‘
Plus ça change.
' He'd just leave her behind, like he did all the others. Back to focusing on training for the next important event. He'd simply forget about her. Easy.

He glanced around the plane and felt a little panic – where was she?

‘Excuse me, sir, would you be wanting anything from the chef before we take off?' asked Nicola, chief executive-jet air hostess and proud of it, all bright red smile and robotically efficient manner. Mac snapped back to the present and shook his head.

‘What's our ETA?'

‘Captain says it'll be about fourteen hours – that'll be about midday local time. Mr Simon Leadbetter's confirmed your accommodation and onward transfers. He gave me this message for you, in case you'd switched off your phone.' She passed him a small manila envelope. ‘Will there be anything else, sir?'

‘Has Miss Turner reported to the check-in desk yet?'

‘Not that we've been made aware of, Mr Anderson, but I'll go get an update for you, sir. I'll be back shortly.'

Hmm, not much time to go. Has she got cold feet?
wondered Mac.

Sadie's feet were actually clip-clopping across the arrivals hall just at that moment, in pain and fast losing the battle with the clock. With the proposed departure time close at hand, she stopped dragging her suitcase along, kicked off her heels, put them in her tote bag, and put on a sprint.

Oblivious to the strange glances she was getting as she padded barefoot through the plush premier section of the private airport, one quick check-in later and a sprint through what looked like a short cut, and she emerged onto the tarmac a little breathless, with precisely four minutes to make it across to the twelve-seater Gulfstream GV or else she'd be flying back to rainy Gatwick, not to sunny Hawaii.

The hostess returned. ‘Warm towel, Mr Anderson? And, sir, I think we can safely say your guest is very close.'

‘Thank you,' said Mac, then followed the hostess's gaze behind him, out of the extra-large windows in the private jet. The view that met his eyes was a sight to behold for sure. He walked across to get a better view. Sadie had hitched a lift on the back of a luggage cart, suitcase and all, her bare feet trailing over the side and her hair blowing in the wind. She was completely oblivious to the bemused chauffeur, trailing along in the transfer limousine, just behind the motorised cart. The baggage handler deposited her at the foot of the stairs to the jet, and waved away her offer of a tip. Whatever charm this woman had, it worked on everybody, it seemed. This was going to be a very interesting trip.

Blustering into the cabin a minute later, Sadie found herself in awe of how the other half live, for the third time in twenty-four hours. She settled herself into the seat she was allocated, towards the back of the cabin, unable to see the other passengers as the seats were so big and so plush. Carlo, the air steward, helped to make her comfortable.

‘And, of course, more daylight through these windows plus travelling at a lower altitude means less jet lag. And no need for protective face masks as the cabin air is one hundred per cent fresh every ninety seconds.'

‘Nice. So if I sneeze, no one will glare at me.'

‘Aha-ha. Well, that's all you really need to know about these Gulfstream G5's – not that there are that many of them, Ms Turner. So fast, we will be in Hawaii mid-afternoon local time, with just one stopover – a tech-stop as it's known. Meanwhile, settle in and anything you want, you just have to ask.'

His warm smile and friendly manner helped Sadie feel at ease in such an alien environment. Now her comfort zone was so far out of sight, it was a mere dot on the horizon.

With a tuna salad on the way, and her aching feet being massaged by a vibrating heated bean bag, Sadie lowered her chair back a little, tilted it first one way then the other, puffed up the lumbar support then let it down again, then finally got comfortable and submitted willingly to the high life. Surrounded by luxury, she gave up trying to look up the aisle for Mac. Then the handsome steward asked if she would put her seat back to upright, so she started flicking through the in-flight entertainment folder.

The plane began taxiing for take-off and the comedy show she'd selected started playing before her on the little TV screen built into the side wall next to each seat – a classic about a badly run hotel. At least that was familiar.

Recounting the events of the last twenty-four hours she had to pinch herself to prove it was real – and it had all happened to her.

It was the stuff of Hollywood movies.

Well, most of it.

Some of it had been like a horror film – like coming face to face with the man you'd been down and dirty with the night before, simply to find out that it wasn't only your backside, but your
future
that lay in his hands.