“What?” I ask as he begins to walk toward the deck door. He took my phone! My low heels click on the wood ramp toward the boats as I call out, “Hey! My phone!”
He waves it in the air as he takes a sip of my martini. He frowns and dumps the rest in the ocean. When he gets to a sailboat I estimate is about twenty-five feet in length, he hops on with ease and turns toward me. I stop moving at the edge of the boat and hold out my hand as I scowl in aggravation. “Please give me back my cell.”
He glances at the empty martini glass and scowls as he asks, “Do you like these things?”
“I--”
“Hey, Ms. Russo. Great day for sailing, isn’t it?”
I glance over at a blond guy who just climbed up from the galley. He’s the son of a friend, and I gave him an internship at my company last summer. “Hello, Keith.” I glance back at Charlie and ask, “Do you work for this man?”
“I do,” says Keith. “I decided to go for my MBA in the fall and thought I’d spend one last summer goofing off before I get serious.”
I stare at Charlie as I speak. “Wonderful.”
Charlie is grinning at me, and he asks me, “Why don’t you join us? Your companion is late, and it would serve him right if you took off on a sail instead of waiting.” He hands the empty martini glass to Keith and asks me, “It was a man you were waiting for, wasn’t it?” He turns to Keith. “Never keep a woman waiting. It’s very bad form.”
Who is this guy? I glare at him. “So is taking a woman’s phone and drink, and making her chase you to get them back.”
“You weren’t drinking it.” Charlie reaches out his hand to me and says, “Climb on and check out the Impostor. If you don’t want to go for a sail, I’ll give you the phone back and insist on paying for your lunch.”
Keith’s voice is low when he says, “Bitsy’s coming.”
I turn to see he’s telling the truth. The last thing I want to do is deal with her anger if Charlie takes off before she gets here, and suddenly, getting on the boat is appealing. I turn back and take Charlie’s hand to let him help me aboard. His grip is firm, and my gaze darts to his powerful arm as he tugs me toward him. I say to Keith, “You better get us moving.”
After Charlie takes my glass back from Keith, he leads me to a seat. The navy-blue cushion is soft under my bottom as I sit. My pulse quickens a bit at our escape plan, as if I’m back in high school and breaking the rules. The boat pulls away as Bitsy descends the ramp, and I chuckle as she waves her arm at us. I say, “This isn’t going to go well for you.”
“No.” Charlie sighs. “Probably not.” He glances at my empty glass in his hand and says, “Why do people drink these things? I have beer on board if you’d like one, and I bet I can rustle up some lunch too. It’s the least I can do after kidnapping you.”
My stomach growls as I try to remember the last time I had a beer. He appears to be sincere, and while I’m sure I’m with a well-dressed, used-car-salesman kind of guy, we’ll have to sail a bit before returning to avoid Bitsy, so I say, “Yes. Thank you.”
When Charlie goes below, I watch Keith as he turns off the diesel engine. Pulleys rattle as the sails lengthen to propel us with wind power. The sky is a deep shade of blue and reflects on the water as it sparkles in the sunlight. I lift my face to the cool breeze and taste a hint of salt in the air as I breathe it in. What am I doing on a stranger’s boat? This whole thing is crazy, and I’d be an idiot if not for the fact that I know a young man like Keith wouldn’t work for a kidnapper. A shiver of excitement dances down my spine, because this is fun. I don’t normally do spontaneous, and it feels rebellious. I’m having a small adventure with an attractive man, even if he is a bit on the domineering side. It’s bound to be better than my date would have been.
When Charlie emerges from the galley, he has a tray, and I notice two cans of cheap beer and grilled sandwiches. He sits beside me and sets the food down as he says, “I took the liberty of making your sandwich the way it should be eaten. No special orders on the Impostor.” He pulls a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket and slides them onto my face as if I’m a child.
I welcome not having to squint. “You’re kind of pushy.”
He pops a can of beer and hands it to me. The metal is slick with condensation and cold on my palm as I take it. “I am. But food happens to be something I’m known for.”
“Really. Why’s that?”
“It’s my business. Have you ever heard of Chef Impostor?”
I smile at him as I think about Chef P., my one friend these days. “That’s you? I love that place. I might have a small obsession with the classes right now.”
“Is that so?” he asks as I take a sip of my beer.
It’s icy in my mouth, and the slight metallic flavor from the can is surprisingly good. It takes me back to the days before I had money. “I just gave my business to my daughters a few months ago and decided to pass some of my free time learning how to cook.”
“How’s that going for you? You strike me as much too young to be retired.”
“It was always my plan to retire before fifty, and if you’re talking about my cooking, let’s just say my personal chef is very secure in her employment.” The truth is, I’m a lousy cook, which is why I became friends with Chef P. In the beginning, he was like a tutor as he coached me through a couple of processes I couldn’t master, and it turned into a friendship. I think about Chef P.’s encouraging message earlier and smile.
Charlie nods toward my untouched sandwich. “Try it.”
I pick up the warm bread and crunch into butter-coated grilled focaccia. Flavor explodes in my mouth. I recognize turkey, avocado, sweet bacon, and what I think is sun-dried-tomato mayonnaise. I cover my mouth full of food as I say, “Oh my god. So good.”
Charlie’s voice lowers in tone and reverberates through me. “Now that’s what I like to hear a woman say.”
A flush heats my cheeks in a manner I’m not used to, and I realize I might have a crush on the guy who swept me away on his boat. I raise my eyebrows at him in reply before I take another bite. I’m going to have to work on my flirt, because something tells me my adventure has only just begun.
Chapter 2
“I can see it,” says Charlie. “You have the face of a model—no wonder women love your makeup.” He puts the remains of my sandwich in his mouth.
I’ve heard a version of the compliment from hundreds of men over the years, but not so much any longer. When I was younger, it was true, but now I have the face of a woman in her forties, and no amount of makeup can hide it. I pretend I believe him, though, because he did sound sincere. “Thank you. But I like to think it was what’s in my head that made me successful.”
“Of course it is.” A gust of wind blows a strand of my hair across my face, and Charlie reaches out to move it for me. “I’m sorry, I’m rusty with flirting and just blurted out what I was thinking.”
Goodness. Now I’m blushing again, and I glance down at the can of beer in my hands. It’s empty, but I seem to have a need to hold on to something. “I am too. I was so focused on raising my two daughters and creating a successful business that I haven’t had a relationship in a long time.”
“Divorced?”
I glance up and say, “For about twenty years now. You?”
“Fifteen. I worked too much to cultivate my marriage.”
I nod as I recall how my passion for Bellae was a bone of contention in my relationship. I ask, “How did you get started on your path to greatness?”
Charlie holds up his beer can and says, “Should I get us two more before I launch into my life story?”
“Sure.”
Our dishes clatter as he grabs them, and he descends into the galley. I lean down, and the leather of my shoe is firm in my hand as I remove my heels and tuck them into a mesh pocket I notice on the side of the boat. I wiggle my toes in freedom as I turn to let the wind blow my hair away from my face. As I gaze out at the water, I realize I’m having a wonderful
time and chuckle to myself as I think about how this is the last thing I expected to be doing today.
“There’s something about staring out over the ocean that’s soothing, don’t you think?” asks Charlie as he sits next to me.
I turn to face him and take my can. “I agree.” I take a sip of my beer before I say, “Life-story time. I didn’t forget.”
Charlie gulps his mouthful as if he’s being scolded, and he says, “I’m going to share a secret I don’t tell most people. I started out flipping burgers at a greasy spoon.” I detect a slight Boston accent in his voice. “I couldn’t afford college and likely would have flunked out, so I went to work. I discovered I loved cooking and managed to get through culinary school instead.”
Of all the dates I’ve been on in the last few weeks, this man has the least amount of fancy credentials, yet he’s already the most interesting. I say, “I worked my way through school too. It’s hard.”
“Yeah, but when it’s something you want, you manage. Where did you go?”
I slide back on the cushion so that my legs are extended and lean on my elbows to soak up the sun. “Finish telling me your story, and then I’ll tell you mine.”
He gives me a look I can’t quite place. “I worked in Boston restaurants for a while and then as a personal chef. During that time, a friend who made his money teaching cooking classes to groups told me attendance was down because people were learning online.” He scoots back to sit next to me, and the hair of his bare thigh tickles my leg as he says, “I got the idea to combine social networking with podcasts, and voila, a new business venture was born.”
“From what I’ve seen, a very profitable one too.” I don’t believe for one second this man isn’t smart.
He shrugs. “I do okay.”
He’s being humble, because Chef Impostor just put out a cookware line, and it’s being touted as the next best thing since nonstick pans hit the scene. “So what’s your story?” asks Charlie.
“I came from meager beginnings too. I got academic scholarships to afford college and then went off to business school. I landed a job in manufacturing, which taught me about production and supply-chain logistics, but it was a trip to the makeup counter at the mall one day that gave me my business idea.” I glance over at the man next to me and notice his strong profile, which makes me think of a Greek god. His gaze nearly takes my breath away, and it takes me a moment to continue. “I took stock of what was offered, the amount of money women were willing to pay for cosmetics, and knew I could do it better.” After I take a sip of my beer, the can clatters in the cup holder where I set it. “So I did.”
“And now you’re enjoying the reward of your hard work.”
I lie back on the cushions to stare up at the sky. “Kind of.” I think about how there are days I wish I were working again because I’m bored and want a challenge. “I miss running a business.”
“What do you miss most?” he asks as he lies down beside me.
“The marketing. With technology and social media outlets changing in a nanosecond, there’s always something new to learn, a new strategy to figure out.” I smile as I think about how I annoy my daughters with the latest ways to engage online. “My poor children suffer through a mother who has time to know more than they do about the latest social media channel.”
“I wish I had your passion for that. I’m more about product development and reaching out to discover what customers need before they realize it.”
I recall how Chef P. went above and beyond to help me make good Alfredo sauce and say, “You’ve trained your staff well. I’m impressed with the level of hand-holding I’ve received.” I think about how I’ve stuck around on the forum and watched the friendships of the people who hang out there. “The idea to build a community was brilliant too. I know there are people who visit you every day and don’t like to cook.” Like me. “But they return for the camaraderie.”
“Thank you. I like to think it’s part of what makes Chef Impostor successful too.”
I remember Charlie mentioned working too much to cultivate a marriage, but he’s got a sailboat and apparently a well-stocked galley that indicates he spends a significant amount of time on the water. “Do you get out on your boat often?”
“I’m trying to. Like you, I decided it was time to enjoy what I’ve accomplished, so I’m making a concentrated effort to find balance in my life.”
It might be the slight buzz from alcohol that makes me brave when I ask, “And that includes kidnapping women sitting alone at lunch tables?”
“Hey.” Charlie sits up and turns to gaze down at me. “I rescued you from another boring date who would have been filling your ears with his latest stock predictions or golf handicap.”
And I’m grateful. I sit up too. “So you were doing me a favor?”
“Wasn’t my lunch much better than a barely-toasted, white-bread turkey club with limp fries?”
I chuckle because he described that meal perfectly, and the sandwich he made me was tastier than any version of a salad I would have gotten. “Yes.” I reach over and tug my beer out of the cup holder. “And this might have been the best part.”
Charlie grins as he grabs his drink and holds it up in a toast. “I knew I picked the right woman to steal away. It takes a savvy person to appreciate ice-cold beer in a can.” He leans forward, and my pulse quickens at his proximity as I gaze into his eyes, the color of the water. He says, “One more reason. You were quick on your feet with Bitsy, and that is very attractive.”
My heart soars as if my high school crush just told me I was cute, and I banter right back. “You make me feel as if I’m breaking the rules, and god help me, I find that very attractive.”
Charlie glances down at my lips and then back up to my eyes before he leans in and kisses me. It’s a gentle, nipping sort of kiss that leaves me wanting more when he pulls away and smiles as if he has a secret. He says, “Breaking rules is something I’m good at. Think of the trouble the two of us can get into this summer.”
My cheeks are flushed with more than alcohol, and my skin tingles with something other than the heat of the sun. If trouble with Charlie is going to make me feel this good, sign me up. I lift my can in a toast. “I’m in.”
Chapter 3
Metal clubs rattle in my bag as the caddy carries it over to my cart. It’s women’s golf league day, and I’m paired with Nicole, the new marketing director at Bellae, and two older women who love to gossip. The sight of Emily and Laura makes me smile, because I bet I can pump them for more information about Charlie. I haven’t been able to get him out of my mind since our sail yesterday. We parted ways in the parking lot after exchanging numbers and his promise he’d call me.
“Diana!” I turn to discover Frank, my lawyer, climbing out of a golf cart, and he pats a caddy on the back before he heads toward me. I steel myself for a scolding about standing up the blind date he arranged yesterday.
I make a sorry attempt at avoiding the subject and ask, “How was your game?”
He waves his hand in a dismissive motion. “Eh. Not my best.” He grins. “Sounds like Christopher had a wonderful time on your date. I’m glad to hear you hit it off.”
“Christopher?” Charlie is Christopher Pierce? I frown but quickly paste on a smile instead. “Yes, we did have a lovely time.”
“Good. Good.” He winks. “You can invite me to the wedding.”
Considering Frank is the lawyer I hired for my divorce and the one who later informed me I should remain single for my financial health, I smirk at him. “If I get married again, you should change your profession to matchmaker.”
He chuckles at my joke and says, “Have a good game.”
I tip my visor at him. “I’ll give it my best.” I turn to walk over to my foursome. So Charlie was my blind date, but why on earth didn’t he say so? I’m not sure if I should be angry he deceived me or glad Frank set me up with him. I don’t have time to decide, because when I get to my cart, my phone buzzes in my
pocket with a text. I pull it out to see it’s Charlie—or Christopher. “Are you free later this afternoon for a sunset cruise?”
My stomach knots up as Nicole asks me, “Ready?”
I glance up at her. Her hair is slicked back into a ponytail, and she manages to appear flawless with her youth and the attention to detail that makes her good at her job. From the conversations the two of us have had, I know my daughters did well hiring her. “Sure. Would you drive?”
My cleats clack as I step into the cart to sit. I stare at my phone as I try to decide what to do. Nicole asks, “Are you okay?”
“What?” I glance at her. “I’m sorry. I’m just distracted.”
“It’s okay. Just so you know, Emily and Laura are going to grill you about your date with Christopher Pierce. Bitsy thinks you’ve sunk to an all-time low, but if you ask me, I think you’ve scored. He’s the definition of silver fox.”
I chuckle because that’s exactly what I thought when I first saw him. “Yes. He is quite attractive.” The metal bar on the side of my seat is cool in my hand as I grab it for stability while we bounce over the dirt path. “Why does Bitsy think he’s below me?”
“She says he came from the streets, and she thinks he’s on the shady side.”
“You mean like a criminal?”
Nicole grins. “Mafia, assassin—who knows what she’s imagined for him. I think it’s because he turned her down for the bachelor auction.”
“Oh god, she still does that ridiculous fundraiser?”
The brake groans as Nicole sets it on the cart, and we climb out as she says, “She sure does, and it gets worse. She’s also doing a version of the seventies TV show called The Dating Game. Apparently, three guys are hidden from a girl but visible to the audience while the woman asks the men questions to determine which one she wants to go out with.”
“My god, that isn’t much better than bidding for a man.”
Hot Silver Nights: Silver Fox Romance Collection Page 2
