Taking His Own Page 6

The morning wears on, as hot and humid as any in Malaysia at this time of year. Mariam’s hopes of catching a big crowd from the Sunview start wearing thinner. It’s coming up to twelve, and I’m sat behind the bar cracking through the tough red skin of a juicy rambutan fruit with my fingers, when I notice someone sitting at one of the tables outside in the shade of a palm tree. It must be one of the businessmen from the conference – he’s in a shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the jacket hanging over the back of the chair. It always amazes me that men can stand to wear business dress in the heat here, even with the sea breezes rolling in.

  He’s got his head turned away from me, looking out to sea, but something about him prickles at my memory. A sense of danger lights up in the base of my spine. I lick the sticky fruit juice from my fingers and consider not grabbing the menu, leaving the stranger out there to think we’re closed and eventually get up and leave.

  Mariam would kill me. Losing a customer based on what? A hunch? We’re in broad daylight here. There’s nothing that could go wrong. I jump down from my stool, grab the menu and sashay out to the seafront tables, blinking in the sudden sunlight.

  “Hi, welcome to the Snack Shack,” I begin. “What can I get –”

  Chance fucking Madison turns his head, shading his sinfully dark eyes against the glare, and grins at me as if it were ten years ago and he’d never taken a sledgehammer to my teenaged heart.

  “Hi, Zara.”

  He was expecting me. He was fucking expecting me. I hold out the menu at arm’s length in a shaking hand and drop it, splat, on the table.

  “What can I get you to drink?” I ask, spitting out the words as if I’m challenging him to a knife fight. God damn Mariam and her slutty little uniform. What I wouldn’t give now to be wearing jeans.

  Chance keeps his eyes fixed on my face. I can’t decide if nothing about him’s changed in ten years, or if everything has. He looks older now – in a good way. A dark blonde beard grazes his jaw and his upper lip. His face has gotten squarer, more masculine – a man’s face, not a boy’s. There’s a presence to him that I don’t remember from before. He seems bigger; there’s a sense of power even in the way he sits. His shoulders are broader, filled out with muscle. His eyes hold me with calm strength now, not the boyish brightness that I remember. But the spark in their centre, that spark that used to hypnotise me, that’s still exactly the same.

  Fuck, he knocks every Louis, every Stuart the Surfer, every Buff Benji clean out of the water. He’s a thousand times more handsome than I remember. The air between us has heated up to a thousand degrees and we’re standing in the shade.

  “How’ve you been?” he asks casually. I can’t think straight enough to come up with an answer. I guess when it comes down to it I’m not much of a wit.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Chance beams at me as if I’ve fallen at his feet and showered him with a thousand compliments. That smile devastates me inside, but I manage to keep it together and fix him with my trademark glare. My heart is hammering, beating out the high alert. I need to get away from him, and quickly – I’m starting to remember all too well the effect that smile can have on me.

  “I was hoping to meet with your father.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “Really. I want to make a donation to his orangutan sanctuary.”

  “And since when were you interested in orangutan conservation?” I demand, snatching the menu back up. Like hell is he going to stay here a second more than necessary.

  “Since it was your father who needs the money,” he says plainly. My god, he is absolutely brazen. I feel a shiver of delight run through me at his words and I’m instantly disgusted with myself. I need to end this conversation, now. The last person on earth I want to feel happy about speaking to is Chance.

  “Looks like you wasted your trip. My father isn’t going to want to speak to you. Not one person in my family has the slightest interest in anything you have to say.”

  I stalk back in and behind the bar, hoping he’s got the message. When I hear the door open again behind me, I don’t know whether my heart sinks or leaps up again – and I hate that. I don’t need this confusion in my life.

  I put the bar between us and whirl around to face him again. “It’s bad enough you’ve stalked me to Malaysia, now you’ve got to follow me around at work too?”

  “I didn’t come here for you,” he says, laughing. “Honestly. I was visiting some friends, and I took the opportunity to do a little business. That brought me to the hotel across the road, and I heard that the café here was owned by one Mariam Jacobs. That’s a name I thought was worth checking out.”

  “The only big business on the island is oil companies and deforestation,” I snap. Chance shrugs.

  “I said I wanted to make a donation, didn’t I? Doesn’t that balance the scales?”

  “Not even close.”

  “Well, let me talk to your father about it. I’m looking to hear an expert opinion. Kelsey Technologies doesn’t have any investments in Malaysia – yet.”

  That’s too much for me. Kelsey Technologies – of course. The one true love of Chance’s life. The business he ditched me for. I feel a wave of anger rise up so powerfully that it threatens to overwhelm me. I don’t know whether I want to slap this man – this tall, handsome, half-stranger who’s so familiar to me and yet so alien – or to fall into his arms and beg him to tell me why he left me all those years ago.

  Of course, I know why. I just have to look at him. His expensive suit, the gorgeous smell of his pricy cologne. The expert cut on his hair. The body honed by a life of fine dining and personal trainers. He’s rich. He’s insanely rich. Even if I hadn’t obsessed over every mention of Kelsey Technologies in the news and on google for the past ten years, I would know it the minute he walked in here.

  And to get rich, he had to leave me behind.

  God, I hate him so much I need to get out of here this minute, or there’ll be blood on the floor.

  “Mariam,” I shout, my eyes fixed on Chance’s sculpted face with such ferocity it’s a wonder I don’t melt him clean away. “You’ve got a customer out here.”

  Then I rip my pink shirt over my head and fling it into the laundry bin in the corner, tear off the mini skirt to reveal my orange bikini, grab the surfboard that’s propped against the wall and get the hell out of there. Away from the Shack. Away from Chance Madison. Away from everything about my past which I hate.

  I just hope the sea can wash it all away this time.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Chance

  That girl used to be mine.

  That’s all I can think about as I watch her walk away from me, her tanned hips swinging against her surfboard as her feet pound the sand. She’s a dream on two long legs. More beautiful than I even remember her. An athletic, raven-haired, blue-eyed goddess. And once, she was mine.

  I held her. Had her. Possessed her. Made love to her. I knew everything about this woman who now can’t bear to be in the same room as me. The thought that I was so carelessly lucky makes me shake. To think that I used to believe it would last forever.

  I can hardly drag my eyes away from Zara as she splashes her way into the sea. I can sense her rage all the way back here at the bar. She’s angry. It’s seductively good to know that I’ve made her feel that way. If she can feel rage, that means she still feels something.

  What I’m feeling now is akin to madness. My skin is prickling all over. The way she looked at me as she pulled her top over her head set me on fire. No-one, in all these years, has come close to touching the intensity she reaches with just a look. Her eyes reach down into my soul and flip every switch.

  I’m hard as a fucking rock. It took every last bit of my self-restraint not to leap over the bar and kiss her when she stripped off in front of me. Her body is insanely attractive. My mouth is aching to explore it again, to remind itself how good she tastes all over.

  She used to be mine. I can’t get away from th
at thought. I had her, once, and I knew what heaven felt like those too-few times I fucked her before we were ripped apart. Before it was all over.

  The minute I heard her sister owned this café I knew there was no hope for me. No way I’d be able to stay away. The chance of seeing Zara again pulled at me too powerfully to resist. Hell, I didn’t have to come to this conference on Sarawak at all. I wasn’t lying when I told her Kelsey Technologies has no business interests in Malaysia. The only interest I have here is her.

  I know I’m going to see her again. There’s no way I’ll be able to stop myself laying out the plans. I’m a moth to a flame. I don’t care if she claims to hate me, if she rails against it. God, even the taste of her hatred now was unbearably delicious. One look and I’m addicted again.

  Zara, you used to be mine. Now that I’ve seen you, I won’t stop until I have you back. That’s a promise I’m keeping, princess.

  My mind’s called back into the room by the sound of Mariam’s frantic yelling. “Zara! What the hell?”

  She’s waving uselessly at the pinprick of Zara’s head out on the waves. It’s much too late. Zara’s gone. Out of earshot, out of reach – for now.

  Mariam’s not changed much in the last ten years. She’s got a few more piercings – nose and belly button, and a couple of tattoos up one arm. She wears her hair loose and bedraggled, as if she spends all her time out in the sea. Living in this place clearly suits her.

  “Sorry about that,” she says, with a fake waitress’s smile. I realise with a jolt that she has no idea who I am. “What can I get you?”

  “Just a coffee, please.” Out here they drink it with condensed milk, and it comes out dark on top, shading pale at the bottom, and extra sweet. Mariam’s eyes flick over my arms, tanned and muscular in my pushed-up shirt sleeves, and her smile softens, becomes a little more real.

  “Sure. You like it sweet?”

  I clear my throat. “I’d also like to speak to your father, please. If he’s around.”

  Mariam beams, surprised. “Oh, you know Daddy? I’ll call him right over. What kind of business do you do with him?”

  “Nothing, yet. But I’m hoping he’ll accept a fairly large donation. It’s probably best if you don’t tell him who I am, Mariam. I’m not sure he’ll come for me.”

  Her eyes flash wide when I use her name. She looks at me a little closer – uncovers the traces of the boy under the beard and the suit. “No way.”

  I grin. “I’m told I clean up well.”

  “Chance Madison?”

  I’m half-expecting a smack, after the welcome I got from her sister. But Mariam launches herself towards me and wraps me up in a huge hug. “I can’t believe Chance Madison the billionaire is actually sitting in my café!” she squeaks.

  I pat her on the back awkwardly, concealing my grimace of disappointment. So it’s not Chance Madison from school she’s so delighted to see. Well, let’s be honest. These days it almost never is. Chance Madison the billionaire has a much better ring to it. That’s just how people are.

  Not that Zara seemed at all impressed. In fact, the way she looked me up and down, you’d have thought my Armani suit had personally offended her.

  “I’m going to call Daddy right now,” says Mariam. She’s almost jumping up and down with excitement. “Don’t go anywhere!”

  She’s forgotten my coffee. I guess billions don’t buy you good service here at the Snack Shack. Strange to think the Jacobs sisters have settled on running a beachside café. I never knew much about what Mariam wanted out of life, but Zara had her heart set on nursing. She was finishing off her A Levels by correspondence course back when…

  My mind shies away from the memory of that time. I’ve been very lucky in life. Never known much of darkness. But the loss of Zara still stands out to me as a gaping black hole that I’ve never been able to fill.

  Mariam and I shoot the breeze easily enough until her father arrives. If she remembers that she was never too impressed with me while I was dating her sister, it’s certainly all forgotten now. I tell her all the news of the old schoolfriends she left behind in Mayhew – those I’ve managed to keep in touch with, at least. She’s as surprised as everyone always is to hear that James got married last year. No-one ever thought he’d find the woman to tame him.

  If she notices that I can’t stop my eyes trailing over to the window, following that lithe figure as it rides the waves like she’s their queen, Mariam doesn’t say a word about it.

  Adam Jacobs arrives a good twenty minutes sooner than I would’ve expected if he was driving over from the North Sarawak Orangutan Sanctuary, but the motorcycle helmet he drops onto the bar top soon explains it. This is the man who always left me feeling I had something to prove. I can’t deny I’m nervous about seeing him. I feel like a boy in a rented suit again. He looks me up and down suspiciously, the wrinkles around his eyes a touch deeper than when we last met, but the take-no-prisoners aura still just as raw.

  “This is your wealthy donor?” he asks Mariam roughly. She nods, shoving me forward.

  “Daddy, this isn’t just anyone. This is –”

  “Sure, I recognise him. Chancell and Peggy’s boy, come to visit us all the way from Mayhew. Well, I’ve seen you in the papers, Mr Madison. What is it I can do for you?”

  “My company’s looking to support some conservation work to offset the negative impact of an investment we may or may not be making in some of the property development companies on the island,” I say. I’m not exactly lying and I’m not exactly making it up as I go along – call it a mixture of the two. Really, I’m just hoping it doesn’t sound like a plan I invented this morning, on the plane down from James’s holiday home on the Perhentian islands. If this were a real business transaction, James would be handling it – I work behind the scenes. But if James knew what I was doing here, he would drag my ass back to London so quickly I wouldn’t know what had hit me.

  Luckily, Adam’s no businessman. “That’s a lot of corporate words to say not very much, Chance. Why are you here?”

  “I want to give the sanctuary some money,’ I say. ‘And I’d like your opinion on some of the big businesses on Sarawak.”

  It’s amazing what a little financial lubrication can do. Adam’s bristling brow softens immediately. “How much are we talking?” he asks.

  “How much do you need? I have complete control over the charitable giving sector of Kelsey Technologies.” Another white lie. I have complete control because I’ve just invented it. It’ll take some time to sort out the paperwork, but the headache I’ll get from James will be worth having – I hope.

  Adam motions for me to take a seat. He’s visibly warmed towards me. I don’t remember ever seeing him smile when I was dating his daughter, but he’s beaming now. If I wasn’t used to money buying me this sort of treatment, it would be depressing. But you can’t blame people for being people. “I must say, I’ve heard a fair bit about your business,” he says. Mariam starts pouring him a foaming beer from the tap in response to a casual wave of his hand. I hesitate, and nod when he raises his eyebrows at me. Best to accept whatever hospitality is on offer. I need to keep Zara’s family sweet. “Since when was your company so interested in the environment?”

  Since this morning, in the hotel lobby, when I found out everything I could about your work, Mr Jacobs. And particularly since half an hour ago, when Zara told me I ought to be. “We like to keep our philanthropy out of the press,” I say.

  Adam’s telling me at length about the various needs and necessaries of an underfunded orangutan sanctuary – the food, the security, the habitat – while a light flow of businessmen begin filing into the café now that the final session of the conference has ended. I skipped out early, naturally – my most important business was here. I’m just starting to relax into our conversation, to believe that everything’s going well, when Adam drains his drink and catches his eye on something at the far end of the room. Something I don’t quite manage to see. His hackles a
re immediately raised. No more smiles on that bearded face.

  “These are your types, are they?” he asks, giving a general wave at the men sitting down at Mariam’s tables. Shirts are being unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, ties hung over the backs of chairs. It’s too hot to be formal any longer, and it’s the end of the day. I recognise a few of the men I’ve been talking with over the course of the conference.

  “That’s right,” I say. I can tell before the words leave my mouth that it’ll be the wrong answer, but there’s no point denying what’s so obviously true.

  Adam licks lager foam from his lips. “You’ve been at that conference across the road. Made any contacts there?”

  “A few.”

  He stands up. “Yeah. I know the sort. Well, it’s been good catching up with you, Chance.” His tone makes it clear that he doesn’t mean a word of it. I can feel my grasp of the situation slipping away, and I have no idea how to get it back. “Thanks for your offer. Very kind. I don’t think we’ll be taking you up on it.”

  I stand with him. I’m a few inches taller than he is, but he stares me down as if I’m two feet high. “Are you sure about that? Adam, I’d like you to consider –”

  “It’s Mr Jacobs to you, thanks.”

  Adam doesn’t wait for me to respond. He waves to Mariam, picks up his helmet and leaves the café without a backwards glance.

  What the hell happened there?

  I look around at the six or seven customers sitting on the tables, trying to work out who spooked him so badly he would up and leave at the very thought of being associated with them. There’s no-one here who stabs orangutans for a living, that I know of. Just a handful of wealthy men kicking back in the Malaysian heat.

  Mariam scurries over immediately, her face alive with concern. Anyone could tell from a mile off that the conversation ended badly. “What happened? Is Daddy in one of his moods again?”

  “I’m damned if I know what I said,” I admit.

  “Don’t worry too much about it. It’s probably not you, it’s just… When things go well for Daddy, we hear about it. When things go badly, he doesn’t say a word. But boy, do we know it.” She listens to the motorbike revving outside with an expression of concern.