Skinny Dipping (Skinny Sagas) Page 3

  “If only I had that effect on all women.” His voice was low. “Falling at my feet and all.”

  The cheek of him.

  Sophie darted a glance in his direction. “You might increase your chances of women falling at your feet if you were… nice.”

  His eyes widened. “Nice?” A mocking expression spread across his face. He started gathering her things. “I’m a concerned citizen and I’ve even come to your aid, haven’t I?”

  “Not because you’re nice or well mannered. You feel obliged, not concerned.” For the first time she appraised his eyes. They were large…the kind she could lose herself in. She tore her gaze away. Whatever was she getting into, studying this man? Besides, she had somewhere to be.

  “I’m letting you off the hook from any obligation here. It’s cool – really. I don’t need help. I’m not the type of girl who always needs help. I’m a competent kind of girl.” Sophie looked anywhere but at him. She focused instead on the ground, grabbing two – three – four chocolate wrappers, and shoving them back where they came from.

  “I’m making an extra effort to be nice and well mannered. You might even consider me charming? What do you think about that? Is that okay?” he questioned pointedly as he handed her a bottle of nail polish, his eyes twinkling playfully. God he was irritating.

  “I’m okay, thank you,” she muttered. “I can get everything, like I said. I don’t need help.”

  “Everyone needs a hand sometimes.” He remained stubbornly crouched next to her. His hands reached, picking up her personal possessions. A mischievous grin crossed his face. “You like chocolate? Yet so slim.”

  “They’re for work.”

  “Yeah, right. I know women can’t resist chocolate.”

  Sophie glared. “You see these wrappers.” She shoved one in her handbag. “They’re all in the name of research for an advertising client.”

  “Is that what you call it, ‘advertising research’?”

  He was purposely teasing her. Yet she couldn’t help herself. “It’s true,” she said. Sophie saw a fifth chocolate wrapper and held the foil up to him. “This is precisely why you don’t understand women.”

  “I’m trying hard.”

  “I recently heard something memorable. I’ll quote from a concerned citizen. ‘Make things happen. Don’t just try to do something’.” She repeated his words right back to him.

  He chuckled. “Can’t argue with that,” he nodded and handed over her hairbrush, which looked like it had combed a horse’s mane. Her makeup bag. Her perfume. Her synthetic purple wallet, with surf patterns and a Velcro pocket.

  He turned the wallet around in his hands and frowned. “A surf wallet?” Sophie almost shuddered, hearing the word “surf”. She couldn’t stand the water, the very thought of it scared her.

  He touched the canvas almost tenderly. “I picked you as someone who liked chocolate, fast cars and adventure. I would have expected hand-stitched leather.”

  “I do like leather.”

  He clutched the wallet. “Then why do you have this?”

  “A gift from my niece, Annie,” she explained.

  “So you like the beach and swimming? Is that why she bought it for you?”

  “I’m not sure why she bought it. She’s twelve and it was a sweet gift.” Sophie tried to yank the wallet from his grip. Bizarrely, it was a moment before he let go. Giving him a sidelong glance, she wondered if he was flirting with her as she finally placed the wallet in her bag.

  He held up her apartment keys with the mini tennis ball on the keychain next. “Makes sense,” he said with a smile. His fingers remained hooked around her keys. He was obviously toying with her because once more she had to pry her keys from his fingers, momentarily brushing his fingertips as she did so.

  He passed her a colourful cardboard box. A tampon packet. Sophie took the box from him. Her neck felt hot. She wished the company spent more time making the box discreet rather than making such bold packaging. Yet the way the man frowned, as if he was contemplating something else entirely, not even noticing the box, nor what it contained. Thank God.

  His whole expression changed and softened. There were tiny creases around his eyes. He shifted as he noticed her surveying him. “I have a proposition,” he volunteered, and a blush touched his cheeks. She was surprised to detect a bead of sweat on his forehead, his whole demeanor transformed. For some reason he wouldn’t quite meet her eye.

  “Oh?” Sophie braced herself. “A proposition?” She couldn’t shake her initial impression of him stalking after the taxi. But the change in his behavior reminded her of something else, like he was about to ask a girl out.

  Her skin prickled. Surely not. Flirting was one thing but he wasn’t going to ask her out. No man lusts after a klutz.

  She pretended to take stock of the contents of her handbag and rearranged items inside. A thrilling sensation soared through her. What if he was going to ask her out? She would refuse. He had made an effort after their confrontation over the taxi by helping her out and if she admitted it, he was charming. But she was still in love with Derek. And there was no doubt that she and Derek would overcome this current hiccup. It was a mere bump in the road.

  Sophie waited for the man to speak. He inhaled and stared deeply into her eyes. He scanned her face, searching for something. He wore hope on his face. Her heart twisted in her chest. Oh God. Please don’t ask me out. Not now.

  She fumbled with the strap on her bag and contemplated escaping up the stairs, avoiding the inevitable awkwardness. She’d been there before. These situations were particularly tricky. Maybe if she was single for a few years, then maybe she might be interested. Sophie mentally rehearsed the words to say.

  He seemed to flounder for a choice of words. “I want to buy your wallet.”

  Sophie blanked her face. Her notion of rejecting him was obviously quite off the mark. “What?” Her mind whirled with questions. Was it the tie? Had she gone too far with the tie?

  His expression appeared serious. “I want to buy your wallet,” he repeated.

  Her cheeks reddened. How could she have ever thought he’d ask her out on a date? Derek dumped her after living together, and Derek really knew her. Like really knew her. Her flaws. Everything.

  He scrutinised her intently. She felt flustered and confused by his attention. God she was a dope. “I wouldn’t have anywhere to put my money.” She realised she was pondering the inane request.

  “Okay,” he considered her response and his brow furrowed. “How about a trade? My leather wallet for your surf wallet? I’ll also give you a hundred pounds. What do you think?”

  Sophie’s thoughts weren’t quite rational because, quite frankly, she didn’t understand, didn’t know how to react. “Gosh, what an interesting offer.” Then clarity slapped her in the face. “Too strange for me, I’m afraid.” She stood up with her bag.

  “A hundred quid and a wallet swap. It’s an excellent offer. Come on, live on the edge. Stranger things have happened.” He proceeded to empty the contents of his black leather wallet. He jammed his personal items into his trouser pockets. Sophie half expected to witness the removal of a condom from the inner pocket. There wasn’t one. So he was in a relationship. The flirt!

  He held the wallet up and fanned out the compartments, proving each to be empty. He proffered a hundred pounds in cash. “Surely your niece wouldn’t mind? Even a twelve year-old knows the value of a hundred pounds.” After pushing the money inside, he relinquished his wallet and thrust it at her.

  Perplexed, Sophie turned the leather over. She focused her attention on the quality and craftsmanship. The wallet was expensive, she could tell. Her mind worked in overdrive, deliberating his strange proposal. What if he called the police, and said she had stolen from him? He was well dressed, in a tuxedo, and had arrived in a Porsche. She didn’t stand a chance. Still with a hundred pounds, she’d be on her way to purchasing a designer handbag.

  A voice of caution sounded loudly in her mind.
If he really wanted a surf wallet, surely he could buy one? He obviously had the money.

  “What’s the worst thing that could happen?” he insisted. “Take a chance on me. I took a chance on you.” He touched the tie around his neck.

  Sophie's head darted around the hotel driveway. There were probably security cameras monitoring their every activity. There would be camera footage if anything went wrong. “We’re strangers.”

  “We’re not really strangers,” he asserted. “After all, I know everything you’ve got in your Mary Poppins bag.”

  Sophie finally returned the leather wallet. She didn’t take the money. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Seeing his expression, a burst of sympathy shook her body. Maybe she should just do it? He looked relatively sane and normal. But he could be a thief, a criminal, and she’d end up in handcuffs because the wallet was a piece of evidence from a crime scene. Or something….

  “I’ve got to go,” she said. Bag in hand, contents roughly where they should be, she turned and sprinted up the last dozen steps. Of course her coordination was perfectly fine now. She felt him observing her as she rushed away.

  “You could make a man very happy, just by doing a simple, profitable trade.”

  “Not going to happen.” She reached the hotel entrance and hurled a glance over her shoulder. He shrugged, now appearing amused by the whole incident. He’d recovered from his nutty ideas. He once again displayed the confidence she’d first seen.

  “Maybe I’ll see you around,” he called.

  “I doubt it.”

  He smiled slowly and their eyes connected, but only briefly as she rushed inside the grand hotel.

  Following the cardboard arrows to the London Annual Advertising Awards she raced through the corridors, trying to forget the stranger. Strange. Quirky. Unforgettable.

  The arrows led her to the hotel ballroom. A familiar tune could be heard from inside. A small table was set up outside and an assistant sat behind tapping her long, manicured fingernails.

  “I’m Sophie Smart.”

  The assistant pointedly examined her watch. “Smart, Smart, Smart.” Her nail ran down the register. The assistant nodded and finally gave Sophie a nametag. “Table 94.”

  “Thanks,” Sophie nodded. “Do you know if Matthew Silver has arrived?”

  The assistant scanned the guest list for the second time. Sophie noticed Matthew Silver’s name tag on the table. “It’s okay,” Sophie interjected, “his badge is still here. I guess he’s later than I am.”

  She entered the ballroom, instantly recognising a potential client, Tom Johnson from Barney’s Chocolate Bars. Sophie definitely had plenty to discuss with him. All those chocolate wrappers in her bag were there for a reason. She planned to convince Tom Johnson that she was his ultimate advertising consultant.

  Sophie inhaled deeply and dived in headfirst. She could do this.

  Matthew Silver did not turn up to the gala.

  ***

  After the London Annual Advertising Awards, Sophie subconsciously jumped in a taxi.

  The car stopped outside the apartment, and the taxi driver quoted an exorbitant fare. He'd been a friendly cabbie and, without meaning to, Sophie had shared the difficulties of the past few days. Yet now she rubbed her ears, hoping she'd misheard, maybe he’d misquoted. The taxi parked in the lonely London street. The fare was all the cash she was carrying.

  “You've got it right I'm afraid.” The cabbie winked, leaning forward. “You have a good night now.”

  Sophie stumbled out of the car, dashed up the steps to the front door. But for some reason the key refused to fit the lock. The key Carol had given her was definitely the right one.

  The tennis ball swung on her keychain. Realisation hit like a lightning bolt. Sophie was standing outside Derek’s place. She had no cash for another taxi, but despite the situation, there was no way she could ring the doorbell. She fled down the stairs and away from the flat that not so long ago had been her home.

  Desperately looking for cash, Sophie turned out the contents of her Velcro wallet. Nothing. No money. That crazy offer of a hundred pounds was certainly sounding attractive now.

  She swallowed. She needed to get to her new flat. The only option left was to catch the night bus. The journey would take hours.

  In heels and a tiny black dress, alone and with no other solution in sight, Sophie began to walk.

  At least it wasn’t raining.

  Chapter 3

  Waking up exhausted but suddenly hopeful, Sophie instantly checked her messages, feeling slightly pathetic as she scrutinised her mobile. Her heart ached. There was still nothing from Derek.

  There was, however, a text from her dad. “Please call me.” Much to Sophie’s envy, her dad would be blissfully asleep; it was too early to buzz him back.

  There were no missed calls or texts from Matthew Silver.

  Stifling thoughts of Derek, she focused on Matthew Silver’s absence from the gala. She couldn’t fathom his last minute acceptance and then his no show.

  As she rolled out of bed, Sophie wondered how to express her annoyance in a satisfying and professional manner. The hour was too early for her to rush to Clarks and arrange a meeting, and emails were often misconstrued.

  An idea germinated. It was primetime for sporty types to take a dip in the pool. Sophie’s new home was situated in Highbury, a stone’s throw from Highbury Fields, which was strolling distance to Matthew’s swimming centre.

  It was highly likely that Matthew, owner of a swimming chain, would be the type to swim laps before work. Besides, it wasn’t as if he would be curled up in bed, hungover after too many drinks at the gala.

  It was an excellent idea. This morning they would meet, and she would finally put a face to the name Matthew Silver.

  ***

  Sophie marched to the Highbury Aquatic Centre. However, when she arrived she froze as she realised what she was doing. Entering a swimming centre was an inconceivable idea for Sophie. She blamed this ludicrous decision on lack of sleep and breakup stress. Damn Derek.

  Her insides were turning over. Her stomach churned. Sophie detested swimming pools or any body of water larger than a hot tub. Despite this somehow she’d convinced herself to visit the swimming centre. That was stupid.

  Inhaling and clasping her handbag as she gazed at the rectangular timber and glass building, she reminded herself why she was in the very place she wanted to bolt from. She had come to the Highbury Aquatic Centre for the sole purpose of meeting Matthew Silver. He might not even be there, but since she’d turned up, she’d endeavour to introduce herself. There was absolutely no requirement to make acquaintance and pump his palm while standing next to the pool. She could keep her distance from the water.

  Taking a deep breath, Sophie strode inside. Scanning the room she noticed a girl manning the reception counter, poring over a notebook. She placed the girl in her mid-twenties. She was a looker. The girl must be Eve, the girl helping Matthew until he found an appropriate personal assistant. Eve was often the recipient of Sophie’s persistent calls. Now she’d arrived at his work, uninvited, like some type of interloper.

  “Hi there,” Sophie volunteered. “I’m here to see Matthew Silver.”

  The girl glanced up from where she was leaning over the reception bench. “Really?” She frowned and studied the clock hanging on the wall behind her. “Matthew isn't scheduled to show for another thirty minutes. What’s your name?”

  “Sophie. Sophie Smart.”

  The girl’s eyebrows flew to the top of her head. “Hello,” the girl said, recognition in her voice, although they had never physically met. “I’m Eve.”

  “Eve,” Sophie answered brightly, analysing her face. Eve’s hair was pulled into a knot on the top of her head. Her hair was ebony, black as night. Eve. Evening. Sophie’s mind whirred, combining a picture of Eve with her charcoal hair, stars shimmering in the evening sky. Forming her mental picture, she’d be able to retrieve Eve’s name. Eve. Eve. Eve. She
used imagery to form a memory. She locked the picture in her mind.

  “Eve,” Sophie repeated the name. “It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person. I’m not sure if you recognise my name but we’ve spoken over the phone.”

  “So, did Matthew schedule a meeting?” Eve queried, carefully. “Or have you turned up of your own accord? He’s a busy man.”

  Sophie folded her arms, lowered her eyelashes and summoned all her methods of persuasion. Start with a smile. Think of a story. Draw her in. Get her on side. The girl was young, what would she relate to?

  “Eve, have you ever been stood up?”

  “Yes.” Eve’s face flushed.

  Sophie visibly sighed. “It feels awful doesn’t it?” She swallowed. “Especially when the other guests keep looking at the empty seat next to you – it’s rather embarrassing. That's what happened last night. I understand Matthew is busy, but my boss is blaming me for not delivering. I’m desperate to talk with him. Otherwise, I’m afraid I might be fired. They think I’m not being persistent enough.”

  Eve chuckled. “That’s definitely not true is it?” Her brow furrowed. “There must be some mistake. Matthew’s not like that. At least he didn’t used to be.”

  “I'm sure he has a superb reason. We were scheduled to meet at the gala last night. He didn’t bother to notify me that he wasn’t attending. I left a number of messages.”

  “It sounds strange.” Eve chewed her lip. “As a matter of fact I saw him leave the centre in a tuxedo. He leapt in his car and drove away.” Eve was a loyal employee, not about to bag her boss.

  “Eve, I’m finding my professional relationship with Matthew hard to establish. He’s completely disengaged.”

  “He’s really fragile lately.”

  “That doesn’t mean he should disrespect my time.”

  “I probably shouldn’t say this but he almost fell off the rails. That’s why he had an eighteen-month sabbatical.”

  “Oh?” Sophie leaned over the bench. Drugs? Alcohol? “Is he alright now?”