Skinny Dipping Read online

  “Oh?” She was ready for it, bracing herself. He was going to ask her out. A thrilling sensation soared through her, she’d just been kicked to the curb and she was getting asked out on a date. She would have to refuse, she was after all, still in love with Derek, wasn’t she? And there was no doubt in her mind that they would get over this hiccup. It was a mere bump in the road.

  A million reasons of how to reject him, all in the nicest possible way, came to mind.

  “I want to buy your wallet.”

  She froze. Guess she wouldn’t need to reject him. “What?” Her mind whirled with questions. Was it the tie? Had she gone too far with the tie?

  His eyes were blank, serious. “I want to buy your wallet,” he said a second time.

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

  The man was watching her intently. She could barely meet his gaze. “I wouldn’t have anywhere to put my things?” She realized she was contemplating the crazy offer.

  “Okay,” he said, his brow furrowing. “What about a trade, I’ll trade you my leather wallet for your surf wallet. I’ll also give you one hundred pounds. What do you think?”

  She wasn’t thinking straight because quite frankly, she didn’t understand, didn’t how to respond. “Gosh, what an interesting offer.” Then clarity slapped her in the face. “Too strange for me, I’m afraid.” She stood up, holding her bag.

  “On 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, stuffing his personal things in his trouser pockets. He held the wallet up, fanning out the compartments, showing them to be empty. He held a one hundred quid note out towards her. She’d never seen a one hundred quid note before. Didn’t know they even existed. “Surely your niece wouldn’t mind? Even a twelve year-old knows the value of one hundred quid.” He handed her the wallet, and the money.

  She turned the leather over in her hands, focusing her attention at the quality. It was expensive, she could tell. Her mind was working in overdrive, thinking about his strange proposition. What if he called the police, and said she had stolen his wallet? He was well dressed, in a tuxedo, and arrived in a Porsche. She didn’t really need a men’s wallet, or a surf wallet either, for that matter. With one hundred quid, she’d be on her way to buying something designer. A niggling thought crept into her mind. If he really wanted a surf wallet, surely he could buy one? He had the one hundred quid.

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

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

  “We’re not really strangers,” he said, standing up, his gaze upon her. “After all, I know everything you’ve got in your bag.”

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea.” She thrust his leather wallet and the money back into his hands. She turned away, rushing from him, up the stairs, getting far away.

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

  “Not going to happen.” She went toward the entry.

  “Maybe I’ll see you round,” he called. “You can sleep on it?”

  Sophie dared a glance over her shoulder. “I doubt it,” she said. He was still watching her, what a creep. But worse, what a fool she’d been, to think anyone would ever fancy her.

  She tried to put him out of her mind as she entered the grand hotel. An unfamiliar sensation shot up her body as she checked the canvas wallet was still in her handbag. Imagine if she’d taken his leather wallet? The man was probably a thief, a criminal, and she’d end up in cuffs because the wallet was a piece of evidence from a crime scene. Or something….

  She focused her mind on the signs, following the cardboard arrows to the London Annual Advertising Awards. She walked through the corridor, trying to forget the stranger. He’d asked for her wallet. Strange. Quirky. Unforgettable. She needed to think of advertising ideas just like that encounter.

  The arrows took her to the hotel ballroom, where a small table was set up outside. She could hear the music inside. A band was playing a familiar tune. Behind the table an assistant sat, tapping her long, manicured fingernails.

  “I’m Sophie Smart and I should be on the guest list.”

  The assistant looked at her watch. “Smart, Smart, Smart.” Her nail ran down the register.

  “Table 94.” The assistant gave Sophie a nametag.

  “Thanks,” Sophie nodded. “Do you know if Matthew Silver’s here yet?”

  The woman scanned her eyes over the guest list for the second time. Sophie noticed Matthew Silver’s tag sitting on the table, the embossed letters looking up at her. “It’s okay, his tag’s here. I guess he’s later than I am.”

  She entered the ballroom, instantly seeing a potential client, Tom Johnson from Barney’s chocolates. At least she’d have a lot to talk to him about. All those chocolate wrappers in her bag were there for this reason – to get the Barney’s chocolate work. She just needed to be smooth and sell.

  Matthew Silver didn’t turn up to the gala.

  Chapter 3

  After the London Annual Advertising Awards, Sophie directed a taxi back to Derek’s place. Halfway there, realization hit like a lighting bolt and she rerouted the taxi to her new Highbury flat address.

  The car stopped outside the blue door. She removed her wallet from her handbag, and the taxi driver quoted an exorbitant fare. She rubbed her ears, hoping she misheard, maybe he misquoted.

  “It’s okay lovie. We all move round at times, your secret’s safe with me.” The cabbie winked, leaning forward. “You have a good night now.”

  She stumbled out of the car, ran up the steps to the front door, and wondered why the key refused to turn in the lock. The tennis ball swung on her keychain. Her keychain for Derek’s place. She was using the wrong set. Awareness bubbled up inside her and finally she managed to open the door with the right keys.

  She wobbled up the unfamiliar staircase, thrust open her bedroom door. She shimmied past the maze of cartons in her room, and stripped off her clothes, lying down to sleep. Even with alcohol streaming around in her system, the bed felt far too cold, far too roomy. Usually Derek’s body was there, next to her. She used to wrap her legs around his body to seek warmth, or put her cold feet between his thighs. She stretched out into the space, moving herself into the middle of the bed.

  She wouldn’t cry, wouldn’t be one of those pathetic, snivelling girls. Even after all the champagne drunk at the gala, she felt an overwhelming sadness. She felt hollow, empty. She cast the thoughts aside, willing the visions of Derek to stop plaguing her mind. They didn’t.

  ***

  With images of Derek still haunting her, Sophie thrust her body up out of bed at six thirty the next morning. There was no point torturing herself, because she didn’t want to remember anymore poignant moments she’d spent with him. There was no point wallowing, although it was too early to go to work.

  She grabbed her mobile phone. Nothing from Derek. A text from her Dad. “Please call me.” It was too early to reply, he’d be asleep.

  She wiped the sleep from her eyes. Her head fuzzy, thick her brain was possibly full of cotton wool. As she dressed a germ of an idea began to grow. Her new home in Highbury and Islington was a short stroll from the Highbury Aquatic Centre, one of the swimming centres which formed part of the Silver Swimming Chain. It might be too early for work, but early enough to go to the pool and introduce herself to Matthew Silver. He didn’t turn up at the gala, but that wouldn’t stop her from turning up at his pool.

  Pulling garments out of cardboard boxe
s, she found suitable clothing to wear to work, something to make a first time impression. This was an excellent idea. Today they would meet, and she would put a face to the name, Matthew Silver.

  Sophie dashed out of the Highbury house, energised, striding determinedly toward the pool. She got there and read the sign. “Highbury Aquatic Centre” and almost jumped back.

  Did she have a lapse in sanity, the lack of sleep, the stress, making her momentarily crazy? She suddenly felt queasy. Her stomach somersaulted, churned. She hated swimming pools or any building which contained a body of water larger than a hot tub. She was surprised she was at the swimming centre now.

  Inhaling, and gripping her handbag, she held onto her reserve. She’d come to the Highbury Aquatic Centre to meet Matthew Silver. She’d do her best to see him. There was no need to actually go near the water. With absolute caution, she walked inside the building, head darting, noticing a girl standing behind a reception counter.

  She marched to the reception bench and to the pretty girl standing there with long slim legs, poking out of a pair of blue shorts. Sophie placed the girl in her mid-twenties, noticing the toned physique, and wishing for the same muscle definition.

  “Hi there,” Sophie said. “I have an appointment with Matthew Silver.”

  The girl frowned and looked up from the reception counter. “Really?” The girl glanced at a hanging clock, on the wall behind her. “Matthew doesn’t usually turn up for another thirty minutes. He didn’t mention he had a meeting this morning. 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 met. “I’m Eve. Matthew’s personal assistant.”

  “Eve,” Sophie said brightly, and analysed Eve’s face intensely. Her hair was pulled into a knot on top of her head. The colour was almost ebony, black as night. Sophie’s mind whirred, combining a picture of Eve with her black hair, stars shimmering in the night sky. Forming her mental picture, she’d remember Eve’s name. Eve. Eve. Eve. She’d got it, locked it in, and used imagery to form a memory.

  “Eve,” Sophie repeated the name. “What a pleasure to finally meet you in person. I’m not sure if you remember but we’ve spoken on the phone quite a few times haven’t we?” Eve would remember that Sophie hounded her to speak with Matthew almost on a daily basis. She hadn’t resorted to begging, not yet. Although she had turned up to his place of work, uninvited.

  “So, did Matthew actually plan this meeting?” Eve asked, carefully. “Or have you turned up on your own accord?”

  Sophie folded her arms in front of her chest, lowered her eyelashes, summoning all her methods of persuasion. Start with a smile. Think of a story. Draw her in. Get her onside. The girl was young, what would she possibly understand?

  “Eve, have you ever been stood up?” Sophie widened her eyes, if she went to acting school she could probably even learn how to make them glisten.

  “Yes.” Eve’s face flushed.

  Sophie brought a hand to her chest, sighing visibly. “It feels awful doesn’t it? All the effort, getting dressed up and everything.” She swallowed, Acting 101, she was onto it. “Especially when everyone keeps looking at the empty seat next you – it’s rather embarrassing. Especially when he keeps cancelling, and my boss is blaming me for not delivering. I’m feeling kind of desperate to talk to Matthew. Otherwise, I’m afraid I might lose my job. They think I’m not being persistent enough.”

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

  Sophie nodded her head. “He stood me up. As you well know, we were supposed to meet at the gala last night, and he didn’t even bother to let me know he wasn’t coming. I left several messages on his cell.”

  “It seems very strange,” Eve said, biting her lip. “I saw him leave in a tuxedo, and get into his car.” Eve was a loyal personal assistant.

  “Eve, I’m finding the working relationship with Matthew really difficult. I thought I would come here, and see if we can work something out, so we can just get the job done.”

  “He’s been really fragile lately.”

  “That doesn’t mean he had to be rude.”

  “He almost fell off the rails. That’s why he had an eighteen-month sabbatical.”

  “Oh?” Sophie said, leaning over the bench. Drugs? Alcohol? “Is he okay now?”

  Eve shrugged. “He’s better, he’s getting it together. What do you want to do? Wait?”

  Sophie looked around the reception. “I guess I don’t have many choices. I’ll wait, but only until eight-thirty.”

  “I’m terribly sorry. Do you know anything about the pool chain?”

  “I know a bit.”

  “Well, I’m not just Matthew’s personal assistant, but I’m also the resident coach at the pool and am absolutely happy to help you in any way I can.”

  “Hmmm…” Eve was very helpful. “Matthew is the one who wanted to be more involved. Maybe you could talk to him about getting more involved, relieve him a bit.”

  The girl clasped her hands together. “Do you like swimming? I can give you a pool tour.”

  Sophie looked at the girl, she was really trying. “Eve, I’m not really good with water.” She faced Eve. “I’d love to hear more about the coaching here, though. It might help with the campaign.”

  “I mostly coach. Matthew, well, he doesn’t teach anymore. As you probably know, Matthew used to be a serious racer until ….” Eve’s voice trailed off and she looked down at the desk, shifting papers.

  Sophie furrowed her brow. “No, I didn’t know he raced, do you think he would like a campaign with a sporty angle?”

  Eve waved her hand. “Don’t worry about it, he doesn’t publicise it anymore. Matthew and I used to be in the same swimming squad, although he’s years older than me. He’d do anything to be in the water, but things have changed quite drastically. After the accident, he was lucky to even walk through those doors.” She pointed to the turnstiles which led presumably to the pool.

  “Accident?”

  Eve leaned over the reception desk. “I guess now you’ve heard, with him being away so long after the accident, his hotel chain is now in serious trouble. Now he’s always in Brighton.”

  “Oh, is that why he doesn’t swim as much?”

  “He’s busy with the hotel chain but not getting in the water is probably more to do with Rebecca.”

  “Rebecca?” Sophie said, hoping Eve would elaborate, this gossip was getting juicy.

  “Come and look at this. These are all Matthew’s. He was pretty good, really good. In fact, the whispers around the place were that he was Olympic standard.”

  Eve skirted the reception desk, beckoning Sophie to a large glass cabinet filled with trophies and ribbons.

  “You know Sophie, I could help you, if you’ve got a fear.”

  Sophie shot the girl a glance, how did she know? She was very perceptive. “Ahh…nope. No, not really my thing, getting into water.” She shook her head. “No chance. No way. No thank you.”

  “Really? Why not?” a shocked voice said, echoing round the reception room.

  Sophie spun around and her hand came to her chest. The tall blond man, the owner of the Porsche, was standing in front of here. Right here, in this reception. What on Earth was he doing there?

  His blue eyes danced. “I would have thought you’d love water, being an avid surf lover and all. If I knew you better, I’d even think you owned a surf wallet. Velcro perhaps?”

  Her heart beat wildly in her chest. He was a stalker, that’s why he wanted her surf wallet. A creep. A voyeur. “I never actually said I liked the surf. I said my niece thought I might like the purse.” Sophie shot a look at Eve, looking at her for protection, but Eve simply shook her head.

  “You’ve met.” Eve went behind the counter and sighed. “I knew it. You conned me into thinkin
g he’d stood you up.”

  “But he did.” Sophie’s gaze narrowed. Clarity coming to her mind. Surely, this man, with the flaring temper and the outrageous propositions, couldn’t be the rude Matthew Silver? She struggled to lift her jaw up. “He didn’t turn up to the gala,” Sophie insisted.

  “Ah,” he lifted his finger up. “But I did. You saw me there.”

  She tried to compose herself, divert her gaze from hovering on how his t-shirt clung to his athletic frame. She hadn’t realised he was so muscular. He looked so much better with the suit jacket off, showing incredible shoulders and arms. He extended his hand. “See? I told you we weren’t strangers. Pleased to meet you, Sophie Smart.”

  “Matthew Silver,” she said, looking up into his face. She didn’t need a memory game to remember this man’s name. Oh no. Last night’s events were stamped into her memory, and since she’d been trying to contact him for what seemed like eternity, his name was always on the tip of her tongue.

  Eve shook her head behind the reception counter and busied herself with some papers.

  Sophie glared at him. “Was this all a game to you? Coming all the way to the hotel, meeting me, not bothering to introduce yourself, and not even attending the gala?” She placed one hand on her hip.

  His lip twitched, only slightly, but she saw it. Was he laughing at her? “I did meet you outside the hotel. I got to know you quite well, don’t you think? I now know the full contents of your Mary Poppins bag.”

  Her face reddened as she clutched her handbag.

  “Now be careful that you don’t trip now. There’s a step here, and another one over there.”

  Sophie crossed her arms. “It took quite some time to get those tickets, since you gave me so little notice that you wanted to go. If you didn’t want to come you should have said. I have other clients who were dying to go with me.”

  “Really? I can see why.” His voice was playful.

  “Yes.” She realised he was almost laughing. “You’re enjoying this.”

  He widened his eyes in innocence. “I love getting your daily messages, so maybe we should make this a daily meeting. You coming to the pool.”