Twice in a Lifetime (Carina) (7 page)

“It’s on your company’s website. British-born McPherson received a first at Cambridge, before moving to New York to head up the global desk at Dean and Strachan.” She parroted his bio.

When his eyes narrowed in question she said, “Of course I looked you up. Your nana is dead. I had no one to call to keep tabs.”

“Fair enough.”

“And while we are on the subject, you are Scottish-born. Whenever I read that part, I want to score it out and change it. You are from Scotland. You are Scottish. Edinburgh born and bred.”

“How often do you read my bio?”

Her eyes widened. She opened her mouth to speak several times before she muttered, “Oh, shut up, Liam.” Her cheeks now looked sunburnt.

God, he wanted to kiss her, right here, right now. Thank Christ for Dubai’s decency laws, because they were the only thing keeping him from pulling her onto his lap. She was as sweet and irresistible as she had been a decade ago. He would have thought her job would have taken away some of her wide-eyed optimism, but it was still there, strong as ever. He admired that about her as much as it annoyed him. He knew people would eventually disillusion her but he was still impressed that she remained hopeful in everything.

“I’ll print you out a copy. You can read it to your heart’s content.” He was more pleased than he should be that Sarah had taken such a keen interest in his life.

“This is our stop,” she said, ignoring him.

He looked down at her hands, soft, feminine, perfect, He wanted to lace his fingers through hers. There must be another woman that could fascinate him as much as she did. He needed to start looking harder.

“I think Marks & Spencer is this way.” She pointed with her left hand as her right clutched her newly acquired store schematic.

“They have Marks & Spencer in the UK,” he protested.

“Exactly. I know how much things should cost there.”

“Just buy what you want.”

“Said the man who owns the company that runs twenty billion pounds and was eight per cent ahead of the market last year.”

“You really did study my bio.” He did not try to stop the smile that pulled on his mouth. He had wondered many times if she regretted choosing Sam, or ever thought about what could have been. Clearly the door was not as firmly shut on the past as she wanted him to believe.

“Of course I did. Let’s not pretend that either of us thinks I am above that.”

“Fair point.”

“Now help me read this map so I can figure out how to get to Marks & Spencer. Oh, look,” she exclaimed. “They have a Next too. That is me sorted.”

“You can’t come to Dubai and buy things you could find on Princes Street.”

“I think you will find I can,” she said as she started off in the wrong direction.

“It is over here.”

She scrutinised the map. “I knew that. I was testing you and you passed. And they have a Top Shop. I feel a bargain blouse coming my way.”

“I am taking you to a proper store to get you some summer clothes.”

“I don’t have money for that, Liam.”

“I don’t know if you heard, but I run twenty billion pounds and I finished the year eight per cent ahead of the market.”

She shook her head. “I am not going to let you buy me clothes. That is so
Pretty Woman
. You know I hate that film. At work I have met more than my share of real prostitutes, and none of them look like Julia Roberts and none of them are stupid enough to think a punter is going to come along and rescue them.” Her eyes widened as she realised what she had said. “God, Liam. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I can be a real ass.”

A glacier formed in the pit of his stomach. “Don’t worry about it.” He shrugged. “It’s another life.”

Sarah nodded and smiled but it did not reach her eyes. She reached out and tried to touch his arm but he pulled away before she could. She was looking at him with the same pity and embarrassment the social worker did when he was a kid. “Don’t look at me like that, Sarah. The past is the past. It is over. That’s not me.”

“I’m sorry, Liam,” she said again and this time he did let her touch him. Her fingers gently caressed one of the scars from an old burn. He did not speak for a few minutes.

“I don’t like that you know things that are not in my official bio.”

“I know. I will never bring it up again. Not even in passing or a joke. It was really stupid of me. I just wasn’t thinking.”

“The problem isn’t you talking about it. The problem is you knowing about it. You know everything. I don’t like that. I don’t like the way you look at me when you remember.”

“I’m sorry,” she said again.

“Stop apologising. And stop looking at me like that.”

“I don’t know how I am looking at you.”

“Like I am the scabby, lice-ridden six-year-old kid the social-work department dropped off at the scheme.”

“That is not how I see you, Liam.”

“That is how you look at me sometimes. Like you want to fix me but I am not broken. How much money do I need to make before you stop seeing me as that kid? I thought once we were at uni you would stop—that is what I told myself. But even now, you still look at me like you feel sorry for me. I mean, I have a fucking yacht and a private plane. I don’t need your pity.” He ran a hand through his hair.

“I am sorry,” she said softly.

“Just stop bloody apologizing. I get it. For the last ten years I have been pissed that you threw away what we had. But there was never anything to throw away. You were never going to see me as anything more than the kid from the scheme. So you were right—Sam did do us a favour.”

Sarah turned away so he could not see her. It wasn’t pity she was trying to hide now, it was pain. He couldn’t have hurt her more if he had punched her in the gut. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. They never would have worked. It was true, so why did it still hurt? She cleared her throat before turning back to him; she fixed a smile to her face she did not feel. “You’re right, Liam. We know too much about each other. But, like it or not, I am here for the next six days. So we can either have a shit time or we can draw a line under everything.”

“If only it were that easy.”

“It is that easy. Let’s pretend we don’t know each other. I am a potential client. I am guessing you are very charming with clients. And I am here to invest my imaginary saving. Since this is make believe, I have a lot of saving. My yacht could eat your yacht for breakfast. And don’t get me started on my plane, my fleet of planes,” she amended.

“Why would you need more than one plane?” he asked sceptically.

“My question would be, why does anyone need a private plane, but I digress. I don’t know why I have several planes. Maybe they are a good investment?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Not unless you are an airline, and even then the forecast is not good.”

She pulled his arm in beside hers, needing to know the fragile connection they had was not gone. “See, this is why I need you. Clearly I have not invested my trillions wisely.”

“Clearly,” he said. His smile had re-emerged. “But I am very impressed with your trillions. Are you a small country in this scenario?”

She thought about it for a second. “No, that would not be terribly fun, would it?”

“So how did you make your money, then?” he asked.

She thought for a minute and then shook her head and laughed. “How pathetic am I? I have no idea how anyone could make a fortune. I still amaze myself when I manage to have something left over after my mortgage. I am guessing you would not waste your time investing my pension. I don’t want to brag but we are talking low quadruple figures.”

“That much?” he said, pretending to be impressed.

God, she loved that he still would indulge in hypothetical conversations with her. She enjoyed pontificating about the infinite number of possibilities of any given situation. The only time he had refused to play the game was when she asked what would happen if she did not go to Cambridge. There were never any acceptable variations in that scenario.

“Fine, then. Let’s not pretend I am a rich potential client. Let’s just pretend we are meeting for the first time. And you are going to be charming because it is good practice for work. And I am going to be charming because that is the way I was born.” She smiled and reached out her hand to shake his. “I am Sarah Campbell. Pleasure to meet you, Mr McPherson.”

“Likewise,” he said as he took her hand.

“Is that an English accent I detect?” She could not help having a dig.

“I don’t sound English, Sarah.”

“So informal already? Wow, you move fast, Mr McPherson. And you really do sound English.” They began walking towards the escalators.

“I only sound English because you sound like you were an extra in
Trainspotting
. Irvine Welsh would struggle to understand you. You should come with subtitles.”

“Oy! What is wrong with my accent?”

“Nothing, unless you want to be understood. Sometimes when you speak quickly I think you must be speaking Gaelic because it is certainly not English sounds coming out of your mouth.”

“Oy!” She punched him in the stomach, but, thanks to his hard abs, only her hand was hurt.

“Scottish accent and a Scottish temperament.” He grinned.

“Right, well, this Scottish lassie is gonna give ya a wee Glasgow kiss if you don’t shut yer mooth.” She put on her broadest accent.

“I would not put it past you to headbutt me,” he said, referring to the Glasgow kiss.

“You don’t even know me,” Sarah reminded him. “But too right I would.”

After buying two summer dresses, a pair of flip-flops, and some underwear Sarah decided it was time to eat. She was more excited than she should be to have Liam with her to explore the city. She was perfectly capable of travelling alone but it was nice to have him by her side. She always had more fun with him.

Liam had been adamant about paying, but Sarah refused. Surprisingly, it had not been as expensive as she feared. Either that, or she was wrong about the exchange rate, but she was not going to worry.

She went into the bathroom and changed into a new yellow dress. “I could pretend to read this map but we both know I will take us in the wrong direction, so please point me in the direction of cheesecake.”

A Filipina waitress seated them in front of a glass wall that overlooked the indoor ski slope. Nothing screamed over-the-top opulence like skiing in the middle of a mall in the desert. Hundreds of children and their parents were wrapped up for their faux Alpine adventure, everyone wearing matching blue and maroon snow suits.

By the time the waitress had given them menus, Sarah knew that the woman had lived in Dubai for five years and she had two children living back home with her mother.

“Do you always have to get the life story of everyone you meet?” Liam asked after the waitress was out of earshot.

“I was just chatting. It is nice to talk. It is what people do.”

“I know people make small talk. But you always seem to actually care about people’s lives.”

She scrunched up her nose. “Of course I care about people’s lives.”

“Why?” he asked with genuine interest.

“Because they are people.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means, there are seven billion people kicking about on this earth and each one has an amazing story, because they are the only person that will ever live their life.”

“You can’t possibly hear everyone’s story.”

“Of course not,” she said before taking a sip of her ice water. “That would really cut into my cheesecake-eating time. Now what are you going to order? And don’t even think about trying to share my cheesecake. I have a fork, and I will use it to defend my dessert.” She held her cutlery like the weapon she had just described.

“Don’t you want to order some proper food first?” he asked after the waitress had taken their order.

“You say that like cheesecake is not proper food,” she said incredulously.

“It would not kill you to eat meals at their assigned times.”

“Who assigned these times? Because I want to have a word with them. Why should I have to eat dinner first? If I want dessert, there is no reason to eat a meal just to get to the good part. It is like some sort of culinary foreplay and sometimes you don’t want all the kissing and fumbling, you just want the sex. And I just want the dessert.”

Liam’s brow shot up in question. “But dinner is good for you. And I seem to remember the kissing and fumbling being your favourite part. The vast majority of orgasms we had together were from kissing and fumbling.”

The things Liam could do with his mouth and hands could never be called fumbling. They had discovered their bodies together, what felt good, what would take them to the edge and bring them back before diving over. Their last year in school had consisted of studying for exams and hours of foreplay. The one good thing about Liam wanting to wait to have sex until they got to university was how good he got at everything that led up to sex. But that was a long time ago. She wished her body would remember just how long it had been.

She shifted in her seat. “I’ve changed. I discovered that you only need the sex bit for the orgasm, so I have streamlined the process. No foreplay for me any more. A lot of things have changed since you left,” she said, hoping she hadn’t revealed too much of herself. After he left she stopped enjoying the intimacy of foreplay. She shouldn’t be telling him this but she had brought it up and she was not embarrassed of the woman she had become.

“But the other stuff makes it more fun,” he pressed.

Sarah shook her head. “Sex is fun. It doesn’t need to be made more fun.”

He sighed. “Fair enough. Eat dessert first and skip foreplay.”

“I will. And I do.”

“Did Jonathan and Richard appreciate that about you?” he asked.

Her back stiffened at the mention of her exes. It was more than a little off-putting that Liam knew about her personal life and all she knew was what she had gleaned from Internet searches. Sadly, there was no mention of his sexual history anywhere. And she had looked.

“What? That I now hold quickies in high regard, or that I eat my dessert first?”