“Diana!” I paste on a tolerant smile for Bitsy as I walk toward her. I had gift packages of Bellae cosmetics sent for each guest in the audience tonight with the hope she’d feel as if she owed me a favor. Unfortunately, it didn’t get me out of being a contestant on her version of The Dating Game. When I reach the woman, she grabs my arm, and I wince as her talon-like nails dig into my skin. She whispers, “I made a little change to tonight’s program I think you’ll like. Christopher was more than willing to pay as much money as needed to be one of the men vying for you instead of being my bachelor.”
Now my smile is genuine, because I can pick him and avoid going on an awkward date with some man who doesn’t want to do it any more than I do. I guess my generosity did work. “Thank you, Bitsy. I really appreciate that.” I have to wonder how many men she’s blackmailed into bidding for me, and I imagine she’ll be pulling in a good chunk of money. As much as I dislike her, I can’t help but admire the way she gets results.
She steps back to survey my outfit. I’m wearing the same halter dress I wore on my date in the city with Charlie, and apparently, it meets Bitsy’s approval too. “Very sexy in an elegant way. Lovely choice, Diana.”
Warning bells go off in my head, because Bitsy isn’t nice unless she wants something. “Thank you. Now where would you like me to wait until it’s my turn on stage?” I’m not looking forward to being paraded out before the audience while Bitsy sings my praises. Fortunately, I leave for the bidding, since I’m not supposed to know who my contestants are.
“Right this way.” As we walk, she says, “We need to have lunch after all of this. I’m dying to hear all about what Christopher Pierce is really like.”
There it is. She wants the scoop nobody else has. I refrain from shaking my head as Bitsy ushers me into a small conference room. I notice Nicole standing at the small bar.
She smiles at me. “Diana, I’m so sorry you got roped into this too. But I’m awfully glad to see you.”
“Same here.” Nicole is wearing a red dress that flatters her youthful figure, and I say, “You look stunning.”
“Thanks.” Ice clinks in her glass as she says, “My god, I’m nervous. Want a drink? Perhaps a shot of tequila?”
I chuckle. “No. I’m fine. And you will be too. Think of it as a presentation.”
“I feel more like I am the presentation.”
“I think we are.” I reach for the water pitcher, and liquid gurgles into my glass when I pour. “But in a few hours, this will all be over and we’ll be free.”
“Until Bitsy’s next great fundraising idea.”
I tilt my glass toward her. “Isn’t that the truth.”
When it’s finally time for me to question my contestants, I’m grateful for the bright lights of the stage, because I can’t see the audience or anyone’s judging gaze. I’m sitting in a high bar chair, and there is a partition separating me from my three male contenders. I lift my shoulders to sit tall, and my index cards are slick in my hands as I prepare to ask my first question. “Bachelor number one, in a world without fancy cars, how would you pick me up for our date?”
I hear the deep voice of a man I’m sure I had a date with a few months ago as he tells me about the horse he’d ride as he pretends he’d be Prince Charming. All the men play their parts well and offer me creative suggestions that keep the audience laughing. I run through a few more questions until I get to the last one. Charlie is the final contestant to answer me. I say, “I’m not a good cook but want to make you dinner. What do you suggest I make?”
“I’d suggest a simple pasta dish. Fettuccini Alfredo is a good one.” I smile as I think about Chef P. teaching me how to make Alfredo sauce. But then I frown, because while I recall telling Charlie that Chef P. helped me with a cooking technique, I didn’t mention what it was. “But a man like me would never let a woman like you make it alone.” This gets a few chuckles, since most members of the audience know who he is, and a few women in the audience let out sighs before he continues.
When Charlie describes how to make the roux using the same analogy Chef P. did, I become suspicious. The fact he practically repeats what Chef P. told me verbatim makes me curious if the two men spoke about me. My stomach rolls a bit with my unease as I wonder how they discovered I was a mutual friend, but I push my worries away for later.
Once I choose Charlie for my date, he walks past the partition that separates us. We smile at each other as he holds my hands, and then he dips me for a kiss that would make the creators of the original seventies dating game TV show proud. The crowd appreciates it as well.
Charlie’s hand is firm on my bare back as he walks with me off the stage, and I take the chance to ask, “Why did you suggest fettuccini Alfredo? That’s what I got help with from one of your chefs. Did you know this?”
“I did.”
I gaze at him to see his mouth is in a tight line. “You and Chef P. talked about me?” I ask.
“Not exactly.” I stop walking and turn to him with confusion. He says, “Let’s get out of here, and I’ll explain.”
While I’m curious, it occurs to me that the explanation may be as simple as him noticing my name on a report his employees are required to give him. After I grab my purse, Charlie asks, “Would you like to have a drink on the Impostor?”
“Sure.” The night air chills my skin as we make our way down the plank. I say, “I think Bitsy’s managed another successful fundraiser. Do I want to know how much you had to pay to be a contestant?”
I stumble in my heels on the swaying dock, and Charlie takes my arm to steady me. Our feet thud on the wood as we approach the boat. He says, “Not more than I was willing to pay to keep you out of the hands of the other two men.”
I chuckle. “Very charming. I know I shouldn’t have been, but I was a little surprised at the way the women in the audience reacted to you. Did you hear them sigh when you said you wouldn’t let me cook alone?”
We’ve reached the boat, and Charlie stops to face me. He places his hands on my waist, and his fingers are warm on the skin that’s exposed. “You’re the only one I want to sigh over me.” He leans down and gives me a kiss that makes me want to do more than sigh.
When we break apart, I slip off my heels, and he helps me onto the boat. He goes down in the galley to get us drinks, and I walk toward the bow and lean against the rail. Waves lap at the hull of the boat in a mesmerizing song as I gaze up at the stars. I think about how fortunate I am to have found Charlie, and I’m smiling when I turn to see him approaching. He’s got a bottle and two glasses and has a blanket draped over his arm. He says, “I thought you might be chilly. And I’m sure the seat cushions are damp if you want to spread it out for us.”
I take the blanket from him and get settled as he works on opening the wine. I say, “The suspense is killing me. How did you know what Chef P. taught me?”
“I’m very hands-on with my business.” Charlie gives me my full glass. “I often answer client questions, and I was the one to help you with your sauce skills.”
Wait. Oh my god. “You’re Chef P.?”
“I am.”
My chest tightens with emotions I can’t readily identify as I think about how open I was in conversations with my online friend. I told Chef P. my hopes and dreams for love. Things I realize Charlie knows too. My stomach knots up. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I tried a couple times.” I let out a huff as I shake my head, and a mix of humiliation and anger simmers in me. He holds up his hand. “I know. I didn’t try hard enough.”
I slide away from him as I recall how I gushed on about Charlie--to Charlie! “I told you things about us.”
“You did, Diana, and I’m so sorry I didn’t let you know I was Chef P. sooner.”
I recall how Charlie sent me flowers and chocolates and swept me off my feet the way I told him I wanted when I thought I was talking to Chef P. Our first date was an adventure, which is something I said I craved. He used things I said to win me over
. “Was this just a game for you?” I groan when I think about how I shared my feelings the night he turned me down for sex. “Oh my god. This is so humiliating.”
“No. Diana, don’t let it be.”
He reaches for me, and I shrink back. “You’re kidding. I let you in on my private thoughts because I thought it was safe. I trusted you--Chef P.” I clench my eyes shut as I let out another groan.
“I told you mine too.” His blue eyes deepen with the concerned look I used to find swoon-worthy, but right now it’s making me seethe with anger.
I stand up as I say, “Yes, but I didn’t get to use them to my advantage! Why on earth did you pretend you didn’t know me that first day?”
Charlie stands too. “Diana, tell me the truth. Would you have gone out with me as Chef P.?”
“What?” I recall how Chef P. asked to meet me for coffee. The truth was I didn’t think I’d have much in common with a cook, so I avoided the subject. “That’s not fair.”
“No? You gave me enough clues online that I figured out who you were. I’d seen you here, and you appeared as cold and snobby as most of the members who look down their noses at me. But online you were a different person, so I took a chance when I asked you out for coffee. Do you recall the country-club brush-off you gave me?”
My anger is now laced with shame, and I wrap my arms around myself as I say, “Charlie, I--”
“I get it. I’m an impostor in this world, but I’ve never been one to give up based on what people think of me. Our connection online was strong, and I wasn’t willing to let you slip away. Since I knew what you wanted in a man, I decided to use that information.”
“You’re right. I did turn you down as Chef P. But can’t you see how I feel betrayed by this? How am I supposed to have a relationship with a man who lies to me?”
“You shouldn’t. I take full responsibility for what I did, and I’m not proud of it. But, for the record, I haven’t lied to you about anything else. You know the real Christopher, the real Charlie, and the real Chef P.”
My heart feels as if it’s being squeezed too hard, and all I want to do is get out of here. The leather of my shoes is smooth in my fingers when I pick them up to leave. “I wish I could believe that.”
“I’m in love with you, Diana. I’m so sorry I hurt you.”
My throat tightens, because I love him too, and right now he’s breaking my heart. Tears burn in my eyes as I step off the boat, but I won’t be shedding them where he can see. I blink them back before I turn to say, “Me too. Good-bye, Charlie.”
Chapter 16
It’s been decades since I’ve suffered from heartbreak, and the first thing I thought to do in order to recover was to take up jogging again. In my younger years, running was how I stayed sane. Right now, though, the intense aerobic exercise makes me want to vomit, and my lungs are burning as I slow to a walk.
I haven’t been able to go to the club since Charlie and I broke up, because the last thing I want to do is discuss the fundraiser or anything else that reminds me of him. Instead, I’ve spent the last few days cleaning out closets and preparing to downsize. My one positive takeaway from my brief relationship is that I’d like to live a simpler life.
I push the sweat-soaked strands of hair off my face as my heart rate returns to normal. Before I put my house on the market, I want to consult my daughters. I may not have been the most nurturing mother, but I do know they should be the first to hear the home they grew up in is about to be up for sale. I plan to tell them tonight while we’re having dinner at the Rusty Anchor.
When I step back into my house, I welcome the air conditioning on my heated skin and make my way to the kitchen. Trina greets me, and without asking, she opens the fridge to get me water. She smiles at me as she hands me the glass. “You look wiped out.”
“I am. Running is hard work at my age.”
She chuckles. “Knowing you, I expect in a few weeks I’ll hear about the marathon you’ll run next summer.”
I laugh too, because not too long ago, that’s exactly what I would have done. Since I’ve retired, I’ve lost my drive to take things to an extreme. “No. I think I’m going to stay at the jogging phase. I’m sure people can walk faster than I just ran.”
Trina says, “I like the new version of you, Diana. Moderation suits you.”
“Thanks. It’s nice to slow down and enjoy life.” I think about how when I sell my house and buy something smaller, Trina will have more free time to relax too. She’s been such a wonderful asset for me, and I’ll keep her on part time in my smaller place for the same salary. But now’s not the time for that conversation, and I’ll wait until I have solid details to discuss it with her. I say, “I’m having dinner with Megan and Alex tonight. I promise to fill you in on the juicy details tomorrow.”
“Please do. And tell them to visit more often. I miss them.”
“I will.” I recall when Megan came back from Colorado with Nick, how happy it made Trina to have more people to cook for. And I know my daughters think of her as family, since she often helped out with homework and listened to relationship drama during their teen years.
After I cool down, I get ready for dinner with my girls. I can’t help but think of Charlie when I pull on my jeans, and I spend a moment remembering our make-out session on the dance floor of the Rusty Anchor. I sigh as I wish I could have a repeat performance. If only he hadn’t lied to me.
An hour later, I’m at the restaurant in my Jag. Gravel crunches under my tires when I pull in, and I notice two motorcycles. I smile to myself as I recall how much fun it was to ride behind Charlie before sadness threatens to overwhelm me. I shake it off and focus on spending time with my daughters and catching up on what’s happening at Bellae.
When I get inside, I pause to let my eyes adjust to the darkness and notice Alex waving at me. She and Megan are at the bar. Megan’s dark-blond hair is in a neat bob, while Alex has long, curly locks several shades lighter. I have no doubt Megan’s jeans are worn by use and fit comfortably, while Alex’s are likely designer, purposely distressed, and skin tight. Even though the two of them couldn’t be more opposite and were at odds with each other for a few years, they now manage to complement each other well in life and in business.
I smile at them as I make my way over. Alex says, “Mom! Are you in jeans?”
I wink at Megan. “I am. I’m getting eccentric in my old age.”
“Please, you’re not old enough to be eccentric yet,” says Megan. She scans my body with her gaze. “You look good in them.”
Her compliment is a testament to the way our relationship has warmed over the past year. “Thanks.”
She puts a twenty on the bar and stands up. “Should we get a table?”
I nod and walk us over to a booth, and I sink into the thick-cushioned bench across from Alex and Megan. “So, Mom,” says Alex. “I heard you’ve been dating.”
“It’s true. But, unfortunately, I haven’t found anyone for the long term yet.”
“That’s not what we were told,” says Megan. She smiles at Alex. “I believe the words silver fox were mentioned.”
I can imagine the gossip they’ve heard, and set the record straight. “You must be talking about Charlie Pierce. I’m sorry to report we are no longer an item.”
“Oh no. What happened?” asks Alex.
The waitress appears, and I order a beer, much to my daughters’ amusement, before the server walks away to give us time to decide on dinner.
When I don’t continue the conversation, Megan presses. “Charlie? What happened?”
“Goodness, since when did my dating life become a topic for discussion?”
“Since you got one,” says Alex. “Payback, Mom. We had to answer your questions, and now it’s your turn.”
I smile at them. “Fine. If you must know, we dated a few times before I discovered I already knew him. As a different person. One whom I had confided in online about my pathetic love life. When I found out he was both peopl
e, we broke up.”
“So he lied to you,” says Megan.
I nod as I gaze at the menu even though I already know I’m getting a burger.
“Hang on. You’re internet dating too?” asks Alex.
“No. I met him as a chef on an online cooking forum.”
“Wow.” Megan’s beer bottle thuds on the table when she sets it down. “What did he say was the reason he didn’t tell you?”
I take a deep breath as a flush of shame burns beneath the surface of my cheeks. “Your mother was a snob. When the online man asked me out for coffee, I turned him down, thinking I’d never have something in common with a chef. So Charlie tried a different approach, and I’m embarrassed to admit he wooed me with a sailboat instead.”
Megan frowns at me, and I have a good idea what’s going on in her head, considering she spent years pretending she didn’t come from money when she taught skiing in Breckenridge. Alex says, “Jeez, Mom. That’s awful, but I get it.”
“I bet you do,” says Megan as she squints her eyes at Alex. “I guess you’d never date a guy without a fat bank account either.” Megan’s husband, Nick, teaches at a local prep school, and I know how much it gets under her skin when anyone looks down their nose at his choice of profession.
“Not true,” says Alex. She grins. “If he was super-hot, I wouldn’t care if I had to pay for dinner.”
Megan rolls her eyes at her sister. “I’m not talking about hook-ups.” She asks me, “How much do you like him?”
I love him. I sigh. “He’s the first man I’ve been interested in since I can remember.”
She says, “I know Charlie lied to you, but I think you should give him another chance.” Megan leans back and takes a sip of her beer. “He played your game. You have to appreciate the clever negotiation skills.”
Hot Silver Nights: Silver Fox Romance Collection Page 8