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

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.
    Don’t
say it Sadie, think positive. Always think positive.
      ‘It’s… unfortunate. I’ve got an
important meeting first thing in the morning so I sincerely hope it will be there this evening… Yes, that’s the right 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 up, 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 good God.
     ‘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. Even bigger than the Nomusa. She squinted up
to try to see him. She could hear metal against metal, and smell engine oil and
soap suds… 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 the earlier one. Couldn’t help it – you were talking so loud.’
    ‘I
was…?’ said Sadie.
    ‘You
asked “why me?”,’ he interrupted, ‘I’m guessing something always upsets your
plans, right? Well it 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. After all, she felt out of place amongst all
this opulence. But finding someone with an accent 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.’
    ‘Well
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, all don’t call me darling,’
    ‘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 laughed. ‘Except on Sundays.’
    Oh
he’s such a smart Alec.
    ‘Bikinis,
sarongs…’ he went on, ‘Pedal-pushers and pumps at most – that’s the de
rigeur dress code for these yachts.’
    Yes,
a smart Alec who’s making me feel stupid. ‘ I know that! But there’s a reason I’m dressed like this, actually ,’
Sadie said, pulling her jacket down