Hawaiian Affair (Part 1 of 4) (Hawaiian Affair - 30 days to sign the deal - and stay out of love) by Debbie Flint Page B

meet the thirty day turnaround, which was why they’d
responded to Sadie so quickly and arranged this meeting so fast. Time really
was of the essence.
    Shrugging,
she launched the parachute pants onto the bed, opting for her black lace ones
instead – the baggage handlers obviously weren’t partial to lace thank
goodness, so they hadn’t been filched. Then she picked up her posh toiletries
bag – smart enough to double as a clutch bag – and made her way to The Buddha
Bar for her date. For her ‘just one night’ with the Hottest Boat Guy she’d ever
known. 

CHAPTER THREE
    Sadie
hovered outside the front entrance to the bar, unsure what to do. She bit her
lip. Through the window, she couldn’t see anyone who looked remotely like the
man she thought she’d met this afternoon. Damn . Do I go in and act
nonchalant? Or do I wait here till I spot him? What if he doesn’t show? What if...
    ‘Hi,
seen any good boats lately?’
    ‘Oh
hi!’ Sadie relaxed the tension in her stomach. Then immediately sucked it back
in again, remembering she didn’t have her Bridget Jones knickers on.
    ‘No.
Nor cruisers. Nor power-yachts!’
    ‘Superyachts!’
he corrected.
    ‘The
difference obviously matters to you, so Superyachts .’
    ‘That’s
better. Coming inside? I’ve taken the liberty of ordering already,’
    ‘Ordering
what?’ she asked, a bit taken aback.
    ‘Wait
and see,’ he said, and showed her to their table – a side booth, relatively
private, subdued lighting, but music blaring a bit too loud. They shuffled
close, to hear each other.
    On
the table in front of Sadie were a beer, a water, a juice and a cocktail
    ‘ Four drinks? That must cost an arm and a leg in here,’ Sadie said.
    ‘Sorry
– it’s an old habit. Saves time standing at the bar, and - can I tell you a
secret? It usually impresses the ‘laydeez’ if you guess their drink.’  – would
one of them hit the mark?’
     ‘And
what if none of them are right, Mr Moneybags?’ she teased.
    ‘Well
are they?’ he winced.
    ‘Actually
I could murder the juice! All that window-shopping and sea air’s built up a
thirst.’
    ‘Phew!
Thought I was losing my touch – I always used to guess what a girl drinks, back
when I was in college.’
    ‘You
must have a long memory…’
    He
poked her arm for being cheeky and slid the juice over to her with its garish
umbrella and half a glacier of ice.
    ‘Here
you go, Sam, cheers.’ For a split second Sadie wondered whom he was talking to,
then remembered what she’d told him this afternoon . Game on. ‘Samantha’ it
is.
    ‘So
what brings you to Monaco then – apart from the yacht-crawl?’
    ‘Big
meeting.’
    ‘Right.
What kind of business?’
    Sadie
was mid-sip and hesitated. She looked away. Even telling him the short answer
would bring on nervous palpitations. She downed the lovely cool juice in one,
looked him in the eye, and leaned closer.
    ‘Mac
can I ask you something?’ she said, huge doe eyes looking up at him from under
long, dark lashes. 
    ‘Mm
you smell delicious. What?’
    ‘A
favour? Would you do me a really big favour?’
    ‘Depends
if it involves fixing things. Or getting wet.’ He joked, but a flash of unease
had crossed his face.
    ‘Don’t
worry it’s nothing like that. It’s this…’
    He
furrowed his brow, awaiting her next words.
    ‘Tonight,’
she said, ‘can we please not talk about work? At all?’
    ‘Oh,
sure! ‘Course, no problem.’ He let out a breath he’d been holding. ‘It’s just
that, for a minute there, when you said a favour I thought you meant money…’
    ‘What!?’
    ‘…I
mean... ‘
    ‘What
kind of girl do you take me for, buster?’
    ‘No,
I mean… favours. When people ask me for favours it’s usually money.’
    ‘What
the…!’
    ‘Em…Not
you, though – obviously.’ Trying to change the subject, he back peddled. ‘You
know – sponsor me for this, lend me that, or asking me to buy your silence in
return for not reporting