Twice In A Lifetime

“Near enough, then. Keep working at it. I am sure you’ll get there in the end. You always do.”

“Sometimes you realise what you wanted was nothing more than a juvenile mistake.”

She winced. “True.” She stood and picked up her hand luggage again and then turned to face him. She reached her hand out to him to shake. “I am glad to see you, you know. I have wondered about you. I never really got…closure, I guess you could say. But now I know things worked out the way they were supposed to. Thanks for helping. I know you are really busy. I don’t want to take up any more of your time. I will email you and you can keep me up to date on progress with Sam’s case. That is probably the best.”

He stared at her hand in astonishment. That was it. She walked into his life, sirens blazing, and then she expected to walk away again, no questions asked.

No, that was not the way it was going to play out this time.

The annoyance mounted in him. What did she think she was playing at?

She was going to see all the things she missed out on by choosing Sam. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Her head snapped up to meet his gaze. “I have a return flight booked. I need to get to the airport.”

“Cancel it.”

“I can’t cancel it. I can’t afford to change my flight. I can’t even afford this flight.”

“Lucky I have a private jet.”

“Congratulations. I have a mortgage I can’t afford and a cat that won’t stop peeing on my carpet. I guess you win,” she shouted over her shoulder as she made her way for the door.

“If you leave now, I won’t help Sam.” It was blackmail and he was not above it.

She dropped her case and spun around on her heel. “You said you would. You are many things, but you have never been a liar.”

“It has been a long time—you have no idea what I am capable of. You didn’t expect to come in, demand I help your tearaway friend, and then leave again. Oh, I can see by your face you did. That’s not the way things work here in the real world. If you want me to help him, you will stay until it’s done.”

“I can’t afford to take any more time off work. I have service users—”

“Make time. Life is about choices, Sarah. Stay and I help Sam or go and see what justice the Emiratis have in store for him.”

She looked him square in the eyes; defiance flashed in their aquamarine depths. “Why? Why do you want me to stay?”

Liam let out a breath. Sarah was here. After a decade of wondering where she was and what she was doing, she was here with him. And he wasn’t ready to let her go again, not yet. Ten years had passed but the emotion was still there, as raw and palpable as ever, all the hurt, all the anger, all the betrayal. And all the passion. He just needed a few days with her, maybe a week. She wasn’t the only one who needed closure.

Christ, why did he want her to stay? Because he wanted her to see what life could have been, because he wanted to punish her, because the idea of helping Sam made his skin crawl, or maybe because, even though he could never have her, he never stopped wanting her?

No, it was because this time when she left, he wanted to be able to close the door for good. He wasn’t going to waste any more of his life chasing ghosts. “Because nothing in life is free.”

“I can’t stay.”

“I already told you, I would let you use my company’s jet.”

“It’s not that.”

“What is it, then? Is there someone waiting for you in Edinburgh? Do you have a boyfriend?”

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “No, I don’t have a boyfriend. I have real responsibilities. I think you can understand that.” She gestured to the large office space that lay just outside his door. “I have people that need me. I have my work. I have Dave. I have—”

“You just said you didn’t have a boyfriend.”

“Dave’s my cat,” she said.

“Of course he is. Christ, Sarah, you sound like a spinster. You can’t go away for a week because you have a cat. Can you hear yourself?”

“Yes, I can hear myself. Can you hear yourself? You don’t even sound Scottish any more.”

“Thank you.”

“It is not a compliment,” she said.

“I don’t think speaking properly is an insult.”

“You don’t speak properly any more. You sound English.”

“Because I went to university in Cambridge. This is what you would expect me to sound like.”

“Well, good thing I didn’t go, then,” she bit out.

The colour was intensifying in her cheeks, going from pink to an angry scarlet. It had always been her tell; she wore her emotions. “If your goal was to spend your life in the gutter, then, yes, it was a good thing you turned down your place at Cambridge.”

She balled her hands into fists. “I turned down my place at Cambridge because my friend, no, our friend needed us. But you left and never looked back.”

It was his turn to be angry. She made it sound as if he abandoned her. “Is that the way you really see it, Sarah? Because if you do you are remembering someone else’s life. That is not how things went down. Let me remind you how it really went. We worked our asses off to get places at Cambridge. We had our lives mapped out and then you chickened out at the last minute. Sam was an excuse. You never had any intention of leaving.”

Sarah took a deep breath. She tapped her foot and silently counted to ten in an attempt to control her rising anger. “How dare you? I would have left but someone needed to be there for Sam.”

“Why did it have to be you? Why do you always have to rescue people?”

“Because I don’t see anyone else queuing up for the job. First sign of weakness from Sam and you cut him off, the same you did with me.”

Liam grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him. “I am not the one who jumped ship, sweetheart. That was all you. You turned your back on us.”

She didn’t pull away; it had been so long since Liam touched her, and she didn’t care if it was only anger fuelling him. She could feel his hot breath against her. Somewhere in there was her Liam. She needed to see him again, any small part, to prove to herself she had not imagined it. “I didn’t turn my back on us. I turned down my place at Cambridge. There is a big difference.”

“No, there isn’t. We had a life planned and you gave up on it.”

“It’s all or nothing with you, isn’t it, Liam?”

“Yes. And you could have had it all too.”

She shook her head. No, she couldn’t. Liam had left. He was always going to leave; she shouldn’t have been surprised. That was what men did, after all. She’d thought he was different, but it turned out her mum was right: men were all the same. “Look, Liam, I am tired and hungry and more than a little annoyed. I just want to get home to my bed.”

“I can’t help with the annoyed, but as luck would have it I have food and a bed. It all came with the new accent, package deal.”

The sound of a bed, his bed, made her stomach do a back flip. She needed to get away before she did something stupid like start to believe sharing his bed was a good idea. “I can’t just leave Dave.” It sounded pathetic even to her but entirely plausible given her lack of social life.

“Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Make another excuse. Call whoever you left in charge of your cat and tell them you will be home in a week.”

“I didn’t—”

He cut her off again. “Don’t lie again, Sarah. It really doesn’t suit you. We both know you would never leave any creature unattended. You’re a bleeding heart—even the thought of someone in distress upsets you. You will have given someone a key just in case you were held up and didn’t get your flight back.”

He was right but she was not going to admit it. “Fine. Dave is fine. I just don’t want to spend any more time with you.” The truth was she wanted to spend as much time as she could with him, and that was what scared her. Despite his harshness, she could already feel her heart opening to him, searching for the connection that had been severed too many years ago. Spending any more time with Liam would be too painful.

“You really need to stop lying, Sarah. You’re rubbish at it.”

“Liam, I don’t think it is a good idea for me to stay here.” That much wasn’t a lie. It was a horrible idea. It was as clever as ripping off a scab just to pour acid on it. “I can’t afford a hotel.”

“Then it is lucky for you the new accent also came with a penthouse. Amazing the things you miss out on when you choose a life filled with addicts and prostitutes. You too could have had more than a cat and a two-bedroom terrace in Craigmillar.”

She pulled away from him and he did not stop her. “How do you know where I live?”

“I know a lot of things, Sarah. I must say I am disappointed—you couldn’t even make it a mile away from the scheme. You have got to learn to set the bar higher. You couldn’t even manage a new postcode.”

She clenched her jaw until her teeth began to ache. She wanted to scream but instead she took a deep breath and pushed her anger away. “Look, Liam I don’t want to be here and you don’t—”

“Stop telling me what I want and what I know. You don’t know the first thing about what I want.”

“What do you want, then, Liam? Tell me.”

Liam ran a hand through his hair again. His office was suddenly hot. He loosened his tie and undid his top button. What did he want? A good question, one he had been asking since she walked in. He wanted to taste her. He wanted to bend her over his desk and make up for lost time. He wanted to make her regret choosing Sam. He wanted to get her out of his system once and for all. He wanted to show her the life she could have had. But most of all he wanted her to regret choosing a life without him. And when it was all over, he wanted to not wonder about her any more, he wanted to stop caring so bloody much about a girl from his past. “I want you to stop fighting me on this.”

“What will it accomplish, me staying here? Other than winding each other up.”

“Consider it a holiday.”

“Ha!” she scoffed. “If it was a holiday I would have packed sun cream and condoms, and I would be with someone whose company I enjoyed.”

“I remember you enjoying my company quite a bit,” he said as he pushed back a strand of her golden hair that had escaped its clasp. The smooth skin on her cheek was as soft as he remembered. He couldn’t stop himself from thinking about what else felt the same. “So lucky for you I have a medicine cabinet full of Durex and SPF thirty.”

Her eyes widened. It was hard to tell if she was surprised or angry; he would settle for either as long as it made her squirm. He had forgotten how much he loved making her blush. And he had loved that she gave as good as she got. They really had been good together. She would realise she had made the biggest mistake of her life by giving up on them. And this time it would be his choice when things ended. He wasn’t going to play the daft laddie again. He knew what he was getting into this time. He would have seven days to get her out of his system once and for all.

He picked up her case and led her to the door and past Gemma’s desk. “There is a lot to do in a week. Best get started now. Gemma, I am off. Please phone my driver and tell him I am on my way down to the car park. I am on my mobile if there is anything pressing, otherwise I will see you in the morning. Have a nice night.”

Gemma’s gaze darted to the clock on the wall. “What? I mean—but the American market hasn’t even opened yet.”

“Lucky my Bloomberg works at home too.” He smiled.

“Yes…of course… It’s just that you never leave before the market closes. I just thought…” She looked from Sarah to Liam and frowned.

“As stimulating as the closing bell is, I have more pressing issues to take care of tonight.”

Chapter Three

They were driven to a hotel ten minutes from the office. Even through tinted windows, the bright sun made Sarah squint. She noted the lack of pedestrians on the streets; everyone must have been indoors or in air-conditioned cars. She didn’t blame them—the air was so hot, she could feel her lungs drying out with each breath. Somehow the streets were lined with lush green gardens with bright pink and purple flowers; clearly there was not a hosepipe ban in effect here, unlike back home, where if it didn’t rain for a month everyone was told to stop watering their lawns and conserve water. It didn’t look as if there was much conservation of any sort going on here.

From the outside, the hotel looked like a course in modern architecture, all steel and glass, reflecting the sun. The inside was something entirely different; it was a case study in gaudy opulence. The floor was polished white marble, with thick crimson and gold rugs dotted about. Several massive pillars created a semi-circle, above which hung a chandelier the size of a grand piano, strung with thousands of crystals. Excess at its best. Covering the walls with dollar bills would have been more discreet.

A porter approached them and asked to take Sarah’s bag.

“No, thank you. She will be staying in the penthouse with me.”

The man nodded and gestured to the elevator.

“Nice place, not unlike the block we used to call home,” she said without looking at Liam. She was too busy taking in the garish surroundings; even the elevator had gold buttons. “Except back home someone would have stolen these by now. If there is graffiti in here, I would swear we were back in Scotland,” she said as her fingers brushed over the cold metal.

The elevator door opened. “Wow,” she said before she could stop herself. The walls facing out of the elevator were made of glass allowing one-hundred-and-eighty-degree views of the city and marina.

“Which one is your office building?” She could not remember which way they had driven.

“That one.” He pointed at a tall building just past a structure that looked like stair steps.

Liam took a key out of his wallet and placed it against the control panel on the interior wall.

“Good evening, Mr McPherson,” an automated voice said in a crisp English accent as the door closed.

“Did the elevator just speak to you?”

He nodded.

“If she could hand me my slippers and an Irn-Bru, this would be a decent holiday.”

“I don’t think you can get Irn-Bru in Dubai. Not that I have ever tried.”

“I don’t know which is more sad—the fact you have never tried to buy an Irn-Bru here, or the chance they might not have it.”

“I haven’t had an Irn-Bru in years.”

“Remember the time we went to Portobello and drank vodka and Irn-Bru on the beach until three in the morning. Sam was so sick, he could not stand up, and you carried him on your back the whole way home because we didn’t have money for a taxi.”

The muscles in his jaw tightened. “I remember.”

The elevator door opened to the penthouse. To Sarah’s relief, the decor looked nothing like the foyer; it had clean minimalist lines. The walls were painted a crisp white and the floors were a simple polished oak. At the opposite end of the room there was a glass wall incorporating patio doors that led to a massive balcony with a full-size swimming pool and a hot tub. Her entire flat could fit on the balcony. She resisted the urge to say wow again, but that word kept repeating itself over and over in her mind. She had known Liam had done well for himself, but she didn’t really understand it until now. He really had made it. For an inexplicable reason it made her happy and sad at the same time. She wished she had been able to see him achieve it. He had wanted this life for ever. She was happy he had made it, so why could she not get rid of the nagging feeling of disappointment? Maybe it was because he had changed so much to achieve it. The Liam she knew would not have blackmailed her. He would have helped Sam because it was the right thing to do.

She shook off the sudden sentimentality. She might not want to be here but she was determined to enjoy the next seven days. She had not been on holiday for far too long, and, like it or not, this was as good as it was going to get. “I wish I had brought my swimming costume.”

“Just go naked. I do,” he said. A smile played on his full mouth. He looked far too much like her Liam when he smiled.

She swallowed hard to dislodge the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat. It was far too easy to picture his tanned, lean form, naked in the clear water. She knew from memory, even the sight of him shirtless was enough to leave her breathless.

She shook her head to try to dislodge the image.

“No one can see you,” he assured her.

“You could see me.”

“Nothing I haven’t seen before. If it helps, I am imagining you naked right now.”

“Stop that.” She swatted at him, missed his arm, and her hand connected with the hard wall of his stomach.

“Still feisty as ever. You can take the girl out of Scotland, but you can’t take Scotland out of the girl.”

“Too right. Now please stop thinking about me naked.” Her cheeks were growing hotter by the minute.

“Feel free to picture me naked.” When his smile deepened, the dimple on his right cheek appeared.

“No, thank you.” But she was. She was remembering the first time she had seen him naked and hard for her. She had to squeeze her eyes shut to stop the scene playing in her head. She needed to stop seeing him the way he was. He wasn’t hers any more.

“Suit yourself, then,” he said as he led her past a sitting room to a large bedroom.

“Take my room. I will have the guest room at the front.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to take your room.”

“Take it. I work odd hours. I don’t want to wake you.”

“Are you sure?” She was about to say something about him being kind enough to let her stay with him and then she remembered she wouldn’t need a place to stay if it weren’t for him. “Fine. I will take it,” she said a bit more harshly than she had intended.

She laid her bag on a chair and sat down on the king-size bed, the fluffy white duvet cover puffed up on either side of her hips. She glanced at the wood and metal frame of the headboard and wondered about all the things he had done in this bed and all the women he had done them with. Why she cared was beyond her; it wasn’t as if she had been celibate for the last ten years, yet there was a smug satisfaction in knowing she was his first.

“If you want any clothes washed, just leave them in the hamper. The maid will get them in the morning. If you’re hungry, just phone room service. I have a menu in the bedside table.”

The sound of room service made her mouth water and her overdraft hurt. She pulled out the menu and was reminded again how much she could not afford this time away. She only had a single change of clothes, and those were meant for when she landed back at Heathrow. The only clothes she had packed were a wool jumper and another pair of jeans. She would melt if she put on a jumper but she doubted she could afford to buy anything else; something told her Dubai wasn’t a cheap place to shop. She glanced at the clock radio beside the bed. She still had time to make her flight. “Look, Liam. I need to get home. I can’t afford to stay here. I don’t have any clothes and I can’t even afford a starter off this menu. And quite frankly any place without Irn-Bru is not a place I want to be.” She tried to make light of the situation. It felt awkward admitting to Liam she could not afford to even visit his new life.

He looked at her incredulously. “I think I can afford some holiday clothes and a meal or two.”

“I am sure you can. We have established that. You are obscenely rich and I am still as working class as you can get. You have a jet and I have a Fiat Punto that barely passed its MOT. If you are keeping score, that is another point to you.”

“You are the only one keeping score.” He sat down on the bed beside her. He took the menu from her. “What would you like?”

She shifted along the bed so their legs were no longer touching. She would like to not feel like the poor relation. She would like to feel as if she knew this stranger beside her. She would like to be on the flight home. There were a million things she wanted and none of them were being here with him. “No, thanks. I am not hungry.”

“I can hear your stomach growling.”

“I told you I can’t afford anything on the menu.”

“And I told you I could. I feel like we are talking in circles here. Just tell me what you would like.”

“I am not going to let you buy me dinner.”

“Why not? I am going to have dinner.”

“Because…” There was so much to say but her pride stopped her.

“Because you never want to be indebted to anyone. You always have to stand on your own two feet,” he said as if he were reading her mind.

“Maybe,” she admitted. She never depended on anyone for anything. The last person she had counted on was Liam, and that had not ended well.

“It’s just dinner and some clothes. I will give you my card and I will have my driver take you to the Mall of the Emirates. You can get whatever you need there.”

“I am not going to let you buy me clothes. I don’t need a handout.”

“Why is it you spend your life helping people, giving them handouts as you call them, but when the tables are turned you refuse to accept anything?”

“It is totally different and you know it.”

“Why? Because you are somehow above needing help? Why, Sarah, I would say that makes you a snob.”

He was baiting her and damn her if she didn’t fall for it. “I am not going to owe you anything.”

“You owed me something as soon as you started calling in favours for your mate.”

“What do you want from me? Did you want me to see how well you have done? How rich you are? Because I see it. Well done, Liam.”

He stood up and crossed to the door. “I am ordering you a steak. It will be here in an hour. I suggest you use the time to get cleaned up. There are fresh towels in the bathroom. You can wear my dressing gown while I send down your clothes to be washed.”

She collapsed down on the bed. She could use a shower. But she did not want to let him think she was obeying him.

“Screw it,” she murmured under her breath. She was going to have a shower because she wanted a shower. To hell with what he thought of her motives.

She closed her eyes and let the hot water spray against her. In addition to the one large shower head, there were strategically placed jets, each one working its magic on her tight muscles. And if she was not mistaken there was a hint of mint and tea-tree oil in the air. No idea where it was coming from but it smelled divine. It was like being in a day spa, only better because no one was coming at her with hot wax. She could get used to this.

She unfolded a towel that was as big as a sheet and softer than crushed velvet. She wrapped herself up and sighed. Yes, she definitely could get used to this.

She put on his robe and rolled up the sleeves to her elbows. She glanced at the clock—seven-fifteen, which made it just after four in the UK. The office would still be open for the next forty-five minutes. God only knew how much a mobile call to Scotland would cost. She decided to be safe and text her project manager instead. A text came with the added bonus of not having to explain any of the awkward details.

Thirty seconds later her phone rang. It was Leslie, the mother hen of Fresh Start. Leslie was the one who always made sure people, namely Sarah, looked after themselves, and took a tea break every once in a while.

“Hello, lovey,” Sarah said.

“Gillian just got your text. We thought you would be back in the office tomorrow morning.” Sarah smiled at Leslie’s gruff manner. Leslie’s nastiest tone was saved for those she loved. The meaner she appeared, the more she cared. It was just her way.

“No, something came up. I have three intake meetings this week but Gillian or Tara can cover them. And I thought you could cover the harm-reduction seminar I have scheduled for Thursday, if you wouldn’t mind. I know it is short notice but you are the best trainer we have.” It wasn’t just flattery. Fresh Start could not function without Leslie.