Hot Silver Nights: Silver Fox Romance Collection

by Ainsley Booth

  “Bitsy, have you lost weight?”

  She smiles at me. “How sweet of you to notice. I was just thinking about your daughter Megan and her handsome husband, Nick, today. I heard he managed to get the grant.”

  She’s good. Last spring, my son-in-law didn’t realize he was making a deal with the devil when he got Bitsy’s help with his grant to create a mentorship program with his prep-school students and inner-city children. “Yes,” I say. “And I hear he has you to thank for it.”

  “Yes.” She smiles at me as if she’s a serpent and I’m her next meal.

  I throw out a morsel to distract her. “Nicole mentioned she’s helping you with the dating-game fundraiser, and I can’t wait to cheer her on.”

  “I’m so glad you’re free that evening.” Uh-oh. I’m tempted to step back, as if I can escape her jaws. “Because I need a contestant for the more mature crowd.” Bitsy makes the word mature rhyme with couture, as if it’s less insulting that way. “She must be attractive, and of course you were the first woman who came to mind.”

  I take a long breath in and let it out slowly as I silently hex Bitsy with premature wrinkles. And in that time, I don’t come up with one single excuse that will fly, so I force a smile and say, “I’d be honored to help.”

  “Fabulous!” squeals Bitsy, and she offers me a coy smile. “Perhaps I can entice a certain bad boy to play too.” She gives me an actual hair flip before she leaves, and I try to keep my jaw from hanging open. I turn on my heel as I process how I was just played so well. I can’t think of any executive in the corporate world who could have managed that better. Bitsy has found her calling, and it only adds to my irritation as I approach the pro shop for my lesson.

  When I get there, I discover my instructor is going to be late, and it’s suggested I go warm up with a free bucket of balls for the driving range. The metal handle of my container squeaks as I walk, and I clunk it down. I suppose hitting a golf ball isn’t a bad way to deal with my annoyance over being coerced into getting on stage and making a fool of myself as three men who don’t want to go out with a woman my age bid for a chance to date me.

  I recall Bitsy’s jab about Charlie, and my annoyance slips away. He sent me roses. I smile and pull out my phone to text him a thank you, and after I send it, I think of a way to show my appreciation.

  “I can get tickets to any Broadway show you’d like to see. Name it and a date, and I’ll even throw in dinner at the restaurant of your choice.”

  Charlie replies right away.

  “You’re welcome, and let me do some research on the show. I’d love to go with you.”

  I take a deep breath and clutch my phone to my chest for a moment. Charlie makes me so happy I want to squeal like a girl. I notice the golf pro approaching me, and he smiles as he asks, “Diana, you’re falling in love with the game, aren’t you?”

  Happiness fills me as a huge smile forms on my face. “Something like that.”

  Chapter 6

  Charlie picked a Broadway show that was a love story, and when I teared up at the end, he handed me a tissue and put his arm around me. I’m not sure why this man is single, because he manages to do all the right things. I texted my driver as we were leaving the theater. A siren blares in the distance as cars whoosh by, and I spot Reggie right away as we make our way through the thick crowd on the sidewalk.

  “Ms. Russo,” Reggie says. “I trust you enjoyed the show.”

  “We did, thank you.”

  “Where is our next stop?” asks Reggie. Charlie wouldn’t tell me the restaurant’s name, and gives Reggie an address in Queens. Charlie and I slide into Bellae’s limo. It’s usually reserved for my daughter Megan since she took over the helm, but she’s been in Europe this week, and Reggie was available. The leather is cool on the bare skin of my back as I lean on it. I don’t get a chance to dress up much now, so I wore a knee-length halter dress that shows plenty of skin in a tasteful way.

  Charlie is wearing dress slacks and a button-down shirt open at the neck. He begins to roll up his sleeves, and I ask, “Would you like me to turn up the AC?”

  He grins at me. “No. I’m just getting prepared.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re going to kill the animals we eat.”

  He taps the end of my nose with his finger as he chuckles. “I love your humor. I’m not killing any animals.”

  “Will you tell me where we’re going?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough.”

  I squint at him in mock anger before I change the subject. “Did you enjoy the show?”

  “I did. I’m always amazed at the amount of work such a production must take, and impressed by the level of acting. It was very good.”

  “Do you go often?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “I tend to find things to do that don’t require dressing up in my off time.”

  I frown. “Am I overdressed for where we are going?”

  Charlie’s gaze travels over my body as he says, “Not if you walk in front of me.”

  I lean a little closer to him as I recall the tiny shiver that raced up my spine when his hand was on my lower back as he walked with me into the theater, and I speak softly. “You like the dress?”

  “I like the woman in the dress.” He leans in and kisses my shoulder. “Very much.”

  When he moves to my mouth, I thread my fingers through his hair, and the strands are soft on my skin as our kiss heats up. I’m mindful that I didn’t put up the partition between Reggie and us, and I refrain from getting carried away. Still, the thought of sliding my hand into Charlie’s shirt and other places has my insides trembling, and I’ll be raising the privacy screen for our ride home.

  When we arrive at our destination, I’m confused. The buildings look like a series of townhouses, and I wonder where the restaurant is. As I step out of the limo, I notice a small sign over a door that requires we walk down cement steps to enter. It appears to be a hole-in-the wall kind of place with the weathered siding and old wood door, but I have no doubt the food will be amazing, so I let Charlie lead me inside.

  We’re greeted with the aroma of garlic and ginger, and a short old woman’s smile lights up her face as she comes toward us and says, “Charlie.” He leans down to kiss her cheek, and when he stands, she says, “You brought a girl. She’s a special one.”

  He says, “She sure is. Can you squeeze us in?”

  I realize he didn’t make reservations, but I think it’s because this place doesn’t take them. She smiles at me before we’re taken to a small table near the kitchen door. Not what I’d consider the ideal place, but I find out it actually is when the woman says, “Chef’s table. Just for you.”

  Charlie says, “This is why I keep coming back. You treat me like family.”

  She waves her hand at him. “You come back because we let you.”

  He chuckles as we sit, and I say, “Seems you’re a regular.”

  “You will be too once you taste the food.”

  A bottle of chianti arrives, and I barely get a chance to sip some before a tray of food appears. And it doesn’t stop coming. Charlie explains what everything is, and while I’ve had Korean food before, I’ve never experienced it with someone so knowledgeable. I try it all. The flavors are amazing, but what’s more fun for me is watching Charlie talk with the chef. His arms wave as he speaks, and I enjoy seeing his passion for food. Charlie is comfortable here, as if these are his people. I think about how his boat is named Impostor and wonder if he feels as if he’s playing a part when he’s with the country-club crowd.

  My stomach is comfortably full as I sit back and take a sip of my wine. The chef has just left, and Charlie continues to eat. He wipes his hands on a napkin as he studies me. “Full?”

  I nod. “Thank you for bringing me here. Everything was so delicious, and I love hearing you talk about cooking.” I think about how the men I used to spend time with discussed business while we ate at expensive restaurants, and though they were few and far between,
my dates of the past didn’t pay much attention to the food either, other than to ask politely how I liked my meal. I say, “Eating with you makes me realize how much I’ve missed all these years. I’ve never given food this much thought.”

  He grimaces as he places his hand on his chest. “You wound my chef’s heart.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. But I promise to pay more attention from now on.”

  When a waiter arrives, I ask, “Can I have a to-go box, please?”

  Charlie grins at me as he says, “Make that two large ones.” He reaches out a hand for me, and I take it. “I like that you’re a doggy-bag kind of woman.”

  “Really? I can’t bear to leave it behind, or wait to eat all of this again.”

  “Do you think Bitsy takes home leftovers?” asks Charlie.

  “No way.” I squint my eyes at him in mock concern. “Are you trying to tell me she’s a contender?”

  He chuckles, and I dart my gaze toward the waiter approaching with the check. I’m afraid Charlie will try to pay, and I raise my hand before my date can notice. When I take the bill, I say, “There will be no argument. I asked you out.”

  He nods at me and scores another point for letting me pay without pushing the issue. A pen scratches on the paper as I sign, and food thumps in the to-go boxes as Charlie fills them for us.

  While dinner was all about the food, when we get outside, the night becomes about us. Charlie doesn’t remove his hand from my back as we walk toward the limo, and when we get inside, the partition hums as I raise it for privacy. Before I turn around, Charlie takes me by the shoulders and places light kisses down my spine. “You’re right,” he says. “I like this dress.”

  He tugs me onto his lap and brushes his lips against my collarbone, and I begin to tremble as he makes his way up my neck. The heat of his mouth matches the desire burning in me, and when he gets to my lips, I hold his face in my hands as our kiss deepens. A multitude of emotions overwhelms me. I haven’t been with anyone in years, and suddenly, I’m afraid. I envision the way my naked body looks in the mirror each morning, and the uneven skin tone of my face under my makeup. Insecurity makes me break our kiss to climb off his lap.

  “Diana?”

  I shake my head and blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “Not in the limo.”

  “Of course,” he says as he reaches for my hand.

  “I have a reputation, and--”

  “Shhh,” says Charlie as he puts a finger to my lips. “I understand.”

  I doubt it. How do I tell him I don’t have the confidence I had with my younger body? And even though I feel sexy in my dress, I won’t once it’s removed. How do I say that’s not all I’m afraid of? That I’m scared to death I’ll make sex awkward because it’s been so long I’m not sure what I’m doing.

  I take Charlie’s hand and squeeze his fingers. “Thank you for being a charming, compassionate man.”

  When we pull into his driveway, he tips my chin up with a finger and says, “We’ll take this slowly. It’s been a while for me too.” He brushes his lips over mine and says, “Thank you for a wonderful evening, Diana. Next time, it’s my treat.”

  I smile as he steps out of the car, because he wants a next time. And god help me, even though the thought of his rejection scares me to death, I do too.

  Chapter 7

  The next morning, I awake with a mix of emotions. I’m upset with myself for the way I shut down last night. I wanted our kiss to become something more, and I let silly insecurities get in the way. That is not how Diana Russo of Bellae would have reacted given any challenging business situation, and I can’t believe my heart is so insecure.

  The silk sleeve of my robe is soft on my arm as I slide into it, and I make my way to the kitchen. I manage to get the milk out for a latte when the doorbell rings. Since Trina doesn’t come in until eight, I go get it. I open up to a man holding a package wrapped in gold paper with a red ribbon tied in a bow like a present. He’s wearing a polo shirt that reads Perkins Chocolatiers on it, and he asks, “Are you Diana Russo?”

  “Yes.” I frown because I don’t think this is a delivery guy.

  “Someone with more money than sense paid me to bring this to you as soon as possible. He must have screwed up bad.”

  The box is cool in my hands when I take it from the man, and I say, “Hold on, let me get you a tip.”

  “No need, ma’am. Your guy more than covered it.”

  “Okay.” This has to be from Charlie, and I say, “Thank you,” before I shut the door.

  The package is heavy and thuds on the kitchen counter when I set it down. The paper tears as I rip it off, and I discover an ornate wooden container that resembles a jewelry box. When I open the drawers, I find they’re filled with chocolates. I chuckle at the enormous amount of confections as I search for a card, but I don’t find one. I’m sure it’s from Charlie, though, so I grab my phone to call the man who forced a chocolatier to hand deliver a package before business hours.

  Charlie answers on the first ring, and I say, “The only day I eat chocolate for breakfast is Christmas morning, but today I’m making an exception.”

  “Have you had one yet?”

  “No.” I poke at the candy as I decide which one to try first. “But I’m about to.”

  “Find the one on the top shelf that is a square with dark chocolate drizzled in a circle over milk chocolate.”

  I search and find it easily. “Okay. Got it.”

  “I want you to close your eyes before you bite a piece off.” I giggle before I do as he asks. I sink my teeth into smooth chocolate as he says, “Hold it in your mouth and let it melt on your tongue.” Sweetness fills my senses. His voice gets deeper in tone. “That rush of flavor is intense, isn’t it? Like the feelings that overwhelm you when we kiss.”

  “Mm-hm.”

  “But you can’t hold on to that forever, so go ahead and swallow it down now.”

  I smile at the way he’s ordering me around, and I finish the chocolate. “That was delicious.”

  “Now open the bottom drawer and tell me what you see.”

  Wood scrapes as I tug on the lowest compartment. The chocolates are an imperfect version of the one I just had. Some are marred, and others are misshapen. “I see what appears to be seconds.”

  “Take one out and bite into it for me.” He waits for a second and asks, “How does it taste?”

  I speak with my mouth full. “As delicious as the first one.” As soon as I say it, I think I understand what he’s trying to tell me. And I realize he knew exactly what I was thinking last night. I say, “Charlie.”

  “Neither of us is the young, desirable person we once were. We’ve both got a past and are slightly weathered with time. But the passion we can share is still just as delicious.”

  Tears fill my eyes as his words fill my heart. My voice shakes a little as I say, “How is it you’re still single?”

  “I don’t believe I am any longer. Please tell me that’s true.”

  I sniff. “It’s true.”

  “Good. Now tonight I’m coming to get you around seven. Wear jeans and a tight shirt.”

  “Charlie!”

  He chuckles. “Just asking for what I want. You should try it sometime.”

  “Fine. You wear jeans too, and make sure they hug your butt.”

  “You’re kind of pushy,” he says.

  That makes me laugh as I recall saying the same thing to him the first day we met. “See you at seven. And thank you, Charlie.”

  “See you soon, Diana. Bye.”

  After I hang up, I make my latte. The grin that covers my face won’t quit, and I’m dying to tell someone about how exciting my new relationship is. But my happiness fades a little when I realize I don’t have any close girlfriends I can talk to. I spent so much time cultivating my career and raising my daughters, I didn’t have time to go out for a girls’ night or meet a friend for lunch. My social life was Bellae engagements, which I’m no longer part of. It occurs
to me that I do have Chef P., though, and I wonder if he’ll be online this morning.

  Steamed milk is hot on my tongue as I take a sip of my drink and find my laptop. I grab it to go sit on my deck. The ocean waves crash on the shore as I set up under the patio umbrella, and I find myself staring out over the water, replaying the events of the past few days with Charlie. I recall how much I enjoyed dinner last night. It was more than great food; it was an experience. I hear Charlie’s words in my head as I remember the way he’d moan over an amazing bite of something and then take the time to help me understand why the flavors we experienced complemented each other. And I think about our phone call this morning. My heart fills with warmth.

  My computer is awake and ready long before I manage to drag myself away from my thoughts. I pull up the Chef Impostor site and go right to my message folder. Chef P. hasn’t replied to my last note I sent checking in, but I don’t need him to. My heart is bursting with joy, and I’m going to share it.

  My nails click on my keyboard as I type. “I know you’re busy, but I’m so happy right now I’m about to explode if I don’t share with someone. Remember the blind date I was dreading? He turned out to be the best thing that has happened to me in a long time. I won’t get into the details, a lady doesn’t kiss and tell :), but your magic worked. He’s swept me off my feet with romantic gifts and gestures, all while managing to surprise me with a bit of adventure too. He even gets that I’m insecure about dating again after being alone for so long. Hang on to the dream, Chef P., because I’m hoping you find the same thing. All my best, Diana.”

  My laptop snicks shut, and I return inside. Trina is here, and when she sees me, she asks, “Did the new man send you all these chocolates?”

  “His name is Charlie, and yes, he did. Help yourself to them.”

  She opens the top drawer and selects one. “He’s quite extravagant, isn’t he?”