Take a Chance on Me (20 page)

Yes, you were right to make her the offer – thinking of the deal, always what's best for the deal.

And any more thoughts of pleasure were forbidden. They were not – repeat not – to be about any woman. For the foreseeable future. Dammit – if she could do it, so could he.

Back in his seat, Mac smiled a satisfied smile to himself and allowed one last indulgent reminiscence. Then he shook himself to ward off any further fanciful feelings as far as Sadie was concerned.
Nice to be back on track,
thought Mac.

Totally.

From now on, it would be just him. Women were trouble. And this one was undoubtedly more trouble than most.

Nothing could have prepared Sadie for the heat and humidity as she cast her eyes on ‘real summer Hawaii' for the very first time now the weather had turned into full-on summer. Unlike her first arrival at Kona International airport two weeks ago for the marketing conference on the big island, Kapalua airport here on Maui was quite stark – apart from some garlands and a colourful Hula girl taking pictures for tourists, and a faint smell of hibiscus.

Sadie breathed in the warm early afternoon air, humid and fragrant, deeply inhaling, and feeling her shoulders relax. Her magical mystery tour was continuing and the next crucial steps were just around the corner. She wouldn't forgive Mac in a hurry though. It wasn't the first time she felt belittled about what she was capable of – by someone who mattered. She'd divorced the last one, but the wounds were all too easily reopened.

Maybe she'd allow herself the tiniest sulk on the way to the hotel.

Sadie was ushered into the waiting minibus along with the staff, while Mac and BJ were guided beneath huge sun umbrellas to their waiting limousine.

The journey wasn't far, but Mac began to wish he'd travelled alone as, despite the cool air-conditioning of the sleek saloon, BJ was like a furnace sitting next to him leaking sweat all over the seats.

Watching Sadie sitting on the back seat of the minibus in front of them, laughing and glowing, his heart filled with derision.

She could turn on the charm when she wanted to, couldn't she
?

Especially with her fellow passengers, many of whom she'd befriended during the final stages of the flight, much to Mac's annoyance. He felt a twinge of an ancient emotion – could it be jealousy? Really? Now that would be ridiculous. No, it had to be frustration, that's what it was – frustration at being wrong-footed so badly. Several times.
And all within forty-eight hours
.

When they arrived at the hotel, Mac jumped out of the car with relief but reached the minibus just as Sadie emerged. He smiled – courteously – and held out his hand to help her dismount. She looked like she was about to refuse, but then she glanced at his staff gathering all around them, and seemingly changed her mind. With a gracious smile, albeit not with her eyes, Sadie slid her hand into his and stepped down from the minibus. Her hand felt soft, warm. He held it for only a couple of seconds, but he felt the warmth of it long afterwards. As he watched her rear disappear into the hotel in front of him, without a backwards glance from her, he wondered if he should make sure his room was as far away from hers as possible – or as near as he could get.

Two hours later, Mac returned from the gym and opened the door to his hotel room, wiping down his perspiration with a towel. He stripped naked, then walked into the shower, not noticing a note being slid underneath his door.

After getting dried, he sat with just a towel draped around his waist, and threw open a big vertical trunk. It went almost everywhere he travelled, and had been packed by his valet for the flight – super-fast, as usual.

He reached past the designer suit bags into the back section and brought out an old, battered wooden jewellery chest with rusting black iron rivets holding it in place, and a chunky padlock. Retrieving the key from a concealed pocket in the trunk, Mac opened the chest and looked inside.

His tank watch sat there, plus the thin gold chain with the silver St Christopher that had sat around his neck on the boat yesterday afternoon. He put it back on ultra-carefully.

But before he closed the lid, he hesitated. At the bottom of the wooden chest, right at the very bottom, some old photos and a sheaf of papers cried out to be touched. He picked them up. Perhaps in this state of flux it was the right time – maybe like this he could deal with the distant past. Where he began. Where he reinvented himself. Before any women got in the way or rivals put a fly in the ointment.

This tightly bound package was the link to his roots – and it was the photos that opened the doorway the widest. An old creaking doorway that unleashed an avalanche of memories filled with pain and regret. He knew he could never forget, but found it difficult to force himself to remember.

Is it time to look? Has it been long enough?

A pained expression crossed Mac's features and he breathed out slowly. Removing the first photo from the stack, he gazed upon a twenty-year-old group shot – a dozen or so raggle-taggle children, all boys, in front of a building in serious need of a paint job. A young Mac stood on the end, by far the tallest, and a smaller, skinnier lad with sandy hair rested his head against Mac's shoulder, his hand covering his face. As it always had in photos. Mac inhaled sharply and shook his head.

No, not tonight.

He delicately replaced the old curled up photographs and papers, then laid the bundle carefully back at the bottom of the chest and locked it. Gingerly he slid the chest back into its resting place in the expensive trunk, and closed it once more.

Towel drying his hair, he walked out of the bedroom and noticed for the first time the small envelope by the door.
What the …?
Opening it, Mac noticed rounded handwriting on hotel notepaper and read the name. It was from Sadie.

Dear Mac

I know we haven't got off to the best start. But we both need each other – so to speak – to make this deal work. I admit I was very offended at your insinuation that my children would prevent me doing a good job, and you must have your reasons. But I assure you, I won't let you down.

Can I ask that we be civil to each other, at least? Since we will be in such close proximity for the next couple of days? Then, after that, as you suggested, we need not see each other again – in any capacity – unless we absolutely have to.

I am very sorry for what happened between us, in the way it did, anyway.

Plus, you're very generous to have put your faith in me and the product, and I want to thank you. I do believe that we can do great things together. So to speak.

Either that or drive each other mad. Joke.

See you later at the dinner.

Sadie Samantha Businesswoman.

Smiley face.

Mac smiled. If there was one thing this woman had, it was guts.

Considering it was early hours of the morning body-clock wise, most of the entourage had an afternoon nap. Then, that night, after a bracing wash and brush up in the coldest shower she could stand, Sadie appeared at the top of a long sweep of stairs, and felt full of trepidation. Far below, people were talking and laughing, people she had to impress.

But first she had to get down there.

Several people turned to look at her as she took her life in her hands and descended. She realised their eyes were following the progress of ‘those' heels clacking down the precarious looking staircase. Slow, slow progress.

‘Taking up stunt work?' said a voice at her ear as she exhaled a big breath having reached the bottom step. She jumped slightly, but knew from the cologne who it was – Mac. Dammit, she knew from her body's reaction to the memory of that cologne. Mac's strong steadying hand held her elbow.

‘It's a posh do! I had two choices and I didn't think you'd want me to turn up in my Ugly boots.'

‘Do you mean Ugg boots?'

‘No, I actually mean Emu boots, but I didn't think you'd know the difference.'

‘You'd be surprised what I know about women's footwear. I invested in an Australian manufacturers once. You know what? Our first task tomorrow morning, “partner”, should be to make sure we buy you different shoes.'

‘We? I'll buy my own if that's okay.'

‘That's actually what I meant.'

‘That's actually
not
how it sounded.' She shook her elbow free and noticed him looking her up and down. ‘And don't worry, I'll buy myself a different dress too.'
Damn the man, starting me off again. Damn all of them.
Get the deal done, that's what matters.

‘But I like this dress,' he added.

‘I bet you do.'

‘I got your note.'

‘Good.'

‘It was under my door.'

‘I know. I put it there.'

‘I forgive you,' he said.

‘Hmm. You do, do you? Well, I'm still mad at you – a bit,' she snipped.

‘But you'll let it go, right?
Entente cordiale
and all that?'

‘No, I'll have champagne.'

Mac made a ‘ha-ha' face.

‘Anyway, while you were busy preparing for your Hollywood entrance, I was sniffing around. We might have a problem,' he said, handing her a drink from a passing waiter.

‘Oh?'

‘Bill Galloway's son, Peter. Apparently he swings towards Tremain's methods of doing business more than anyone knew. Tremain's been weaselling away behind the scenes this last week. Peter now wants his big bucks via the fastest route possible. Could mean trouble. We need to get him on side.'

‘Which side would you like me to get him on, exactly?' She arched an eyebrow and Mac looked away. ‘I'll do what I can – apart from any more role play,' she breezed, heading off in the direction of the table chart. One quick place setting shuffle, with the aid of the maître d', and Sadie had herself sat right next to the person in question.

Introductions, welcomes and two courses later, Mac found that his initial relief at not having to be near Sadie in ‘that' dress and ‘those' shoes had been replaced with pure frustration. And a creeping desire to throttle someone tall, dark and then some – Peter Galloway.

At first glance the FrishCo boss's son appeared charming and clever, but anyone listening for a bit longer would realise he was not as charming and clever as he thought he was.

Sadie appeared to be tolerating the young gun's cocksure banter – and elegantly sidestepping his inelegant advances. He seemed to be more keen on her cleavage than her clever conversation.

Mac could hear the boasts from across the table.

‘
Miracle
' this, ‘
ground-breaking
' that, and now, after several refills of bubbly, his magical Frish
could even help cure cancer.
Good God.

He was a danger to himself
and
the project.

He was an unknown quantity, suddenly getting in the way of the deal – in the way of Mac's next triumph. And what's more, he was flirting shamelessly with Sadie. Not that Mac cared, but it was unprofessional.

Mac smiled at one exchange. ‘But, Peter,
why
does it hydrate faster than ordinary water?
That's
my point. Where's your proof? We can't just
say
it. Even if it does. Even if anecdotal evidence backs up the claim, you can't just use it. Your new label design is great, honestly, eye-catching, powerful. But it disobeys the advertising rules. They're very strict.'

‘That's not always a bad thing. I can imagine
you
being a bit … strict,' the man said, sliding his arm around the back of Sadie's chair.

‘When I need to be.' She smiled politely. ‘But do you see, even if all this
is
true, you can't just emblazon it everywhere without the proper approvals. They don't like it.'

‘Oh, I don't know, maybe you should give it a go – you never know what you might like until you try it. Be daring once in a while!'

Mac could stand it no more. He wondered if the man was being deliberately obtuse or if this was his idea of foreplay. Pretending to listen was never a strong point of Mac's so he went over to join them. He walked around the table and sat next to Sadie, putting his own arm on her backrest, prompting Peter to remove his, and to give Mac a glare.

‘Ahh, but sadly we
do
know, Peter,' Sadie continued. ‘If you make yourself a laughing stock in the scientific press now at this crucial stage, it would take months to undo.'

‘Sometimes years,' added Mac, catching Sadie's surprised look out of the corner of his eye. ‘Especially with some of the incredible claims involved here. You'd be crucified by the cynics on the net. Best to wait for the studies, isn't it? They'll be interesting.'

‘
Someone
was paying attention,' said Sadie, quietly, to Mac.

Peter grimaced a little at Mac's intrusion. ‘Well, I'll tell you something “interesting”,' he challenged. ‘The sales update yesterday from the West Coast distribution team. Now that was
very
“interesting”. You see it seems they've found a way round all that studies bullshit.'

Mac could almost
feel
Sadie bristling.

‘Sounds
very
interesting,' Mac said. ‘Do go on.' The young man was clearly enjoying the audience.

‘In their West Coast health store outlets,' he went on, ‘we have just seen a huge jump in the sales of Frish. Stratospheric. Word is spreading about our little company now. Frish has been accepted by more stores in the last week than we achieved in the last three months. And all thanks to a contact of mine. You see, it's not just you in the running, Miss Turner.'

‘Tremain,' she said.

Peter looked surprised. ‘Yes, Mr Tremain.'

‘But – I'm just wondering – is there a reason why your father hasn't accepted his funding already?' she asked.

‘That I cannot tell you. But he has more than demonstrated to me how keen he is to help us.'

‘I'm confused,' said Sadie, blinking several times, fluttering her lashes ever so slightly. ‘Why would your father ask me to get involved if he already had an interested party?'

‘If he didn't tell you when you met him last visit, then it's not for me to say. I will, however, make no secret of the fact that if it was my decision, I would have no doubts about which strategy to adopt. And – no disrespect intended – I share Mr Tremain's belief that it would not involve a beautiful woman stalling our progress while she spends thousands of dollars on scientific research we can do without.'