Hot Silver Nights: Silver Fox Romance Collection

by Ainsley Booth

  When Megan’s assessment strikes a nerve, I don’t respond right away. The two of us have a history of pushing each other’s buttons, and I’m trying to keep my emotions in check. My daughter is a capable adult who reluctantly took the reins of my company and propelled it forward. I know she loves her job now, and we’re past the days of Megan trying to hurt me. I take the time to consider her words. I realize she’s got a point. Charlie did play to my perceptions. I’m saved from having to reply when the waitress comes to take our order.

  As we enjoy the high-calorie goodness of burgers and fries, I tell them about my plan to downsize. As expected, Megan thinks the idea is a good one, while Alex believes I’m having a midlife crisis. I don’t spend much time worrying about my younger daughter’s dismay, because I can’t get what Megan said out of my head. Charlie did manage me like a good deal maker, and it worked. He was interested enough to court me in a way I’d notice, and while it’s painful to admit my perception of his social status mattered, it did. My stomach churns with my meal as I think about my pettiness.

  After dinner, I hug my girls good-bye in the parking lot, and when Megan embraces me, she says, “Call Charlie. Don’t let a good thing get away.”

  I gaze at my daughter. For years I tried to give her hard truths she didn’t want to hear, and now she’s doing the same for me. We’re a lot alike in our logical approach to problems, and I’d be a hypocrite if I didn’t listen. “Thank you, Megan. I will certainly consider the advice.”

  Alex says, “I agree. If he’s as hot as I’ve heard he is”--she glances at Megan--”and makes you happy, then I think you should give him another chance too.”

  “Thanks, girls. I appreciate the input.” We make plans for a family day at the house next month so Trina can see them. “I look forward to seeing you again soon.”

  Once I’m behind the wheel of my car, I pull the door shut with a solid thud. I take a moment to check my emails, but I don’t open any of them, because Charlie is on my mind. I open up my text messages and click on Charlie’s. I read the last exchange we had where he told me to wear my halter dress for The Dating Game, and my heart aches. I long to hear his faint accent, which comes out stronger when he’s relaxed with a glass of wine or a can of beer. And I want to feel his skin under my fingers as I touch him or taste his lips as I kiss him.

  I’m still very much in love with Charlie Pierce, and I miss him. A tear is moist on my finger as I swipe it away.

  Chapter 17

  I grit my teeth, and my muscles stretch as I pull my arms back to lift my golf club up in the air. I swing the driver down with all my strength to hit the ball. But instead of a satisfying crack, I get a thud that tells me I topped it, and it will travel a much shorter distance because of it.

  The golf pro says, “You--”

  I glare at him as I snap, “I lifted my head too soon, and I put too much muscle into my swing.” I shove my club into my bag, and metal rattles. “I’m awful at this game. I know.”

  “Diana.”

  “Don’t.” I shake my head. My lesson is supposed to go for at least another half hour, but I say, “I’m done for today.”

  My cleats clatter on the asphalt path as I begin to walk away, and a caddy rushes up to me. His eyes appear too big for his face as he stammers, “Sh-Should I put up your clubs, ma’am?”

  “No. Sell them. Throw them in the dumpster. I don’t care. I’m never golfing again.” I walk off before he can figure out a response, and a scowl takes up residence on my face as I head toward the bar.

  When I get to the restaurant, I zone in on the bartender, Jack. I bark out my order as if he works for me and not the club. “Dirty martini, please.” A bar stool scrapes on the wood floor as I pull it out to sit, and I notice I still have my golf glove on. I peel it from my hand and wad it up in a ball. I have no idea why I tried to play a game I hate for so long. I reach out for my drink before Jack has a chance to set it down, and I gulp down a mouthful of gin. It makes me shudder, and I slam the glass down on the bar as I mutter, “God, I hate martinis.” And why do I drink a cocktail I hate too?

  The answer hits me like a ton of bricks. Because that’s what I thought the founder of a successful company does. Now I work on my golf game, because that’s what retired CEOs do. I spent so many years worrying about the impression I left on people, that I created stupid rules for myself without considering if I actually liked the things I thought I should do. I’m an impostor in my own life.

  I jump when I hear a familiar voice. “I bet an ice-cold can of beer could help right now.” Charlie sits down next to me, and I gaze into the deep-blue eyes of the man I love. My anger slips away as longing for his arms to hold me takes over. He asks, “Bad day?”

  I sigh and swallow down the lump in my throat as I regain my composure. “It’s a long story.”

  He holds out his hand. “C’mon. Spend some time on the water with me. I’ll even feed you lunch.”

  I stiffen my shoulders as I prepare to turn him down. “I--” My daughters’ advice to give Charlie a second chance comes back to me, and I let my guard down as I sigh. I miss him so much, and the fact he didn’t tell me the truth about being Chef P. doesn’t feel like such a big issue right now, because being on the water would help. “Does it include a can of beer?”

  I take his hand as he says, “Of course.”

  As we walk down the plank, I notice the gold lettering on his boat that reads Impostor. I recall when Charlie called himself an impostor in the country-club world. Just like me. I’m not a Laura or Emily, the women in my golf league, and I’m definitely not a Bitsy, but I wanted to fit in and impress them all. I played my part well. I think about how Charlie said I came off as cold as many of the women here do and realize I played it too well.

  I remove my shoes before Charlie helps me on the boat, and the wood deck is smooth on my feet as I walk over to take a seat. I cringe a little when I remember the way I brushed Charlie off when he asked me out as Chef P.

  I gaze at him and say, “I get why you didn’t tell me you were Chef P. at first. I’m sorry I was such a snob.”

  “Apology accepted, but don’t let me off the hook so easily, Diana.” He tilts his head toward the galley. “Let me get you a beer.”

  When he returns, he sits next to me and hands me my drink, and he drags his hand through his hair as he sighs. “I should have told you who I was on our first date, but I wasn’t sure you’d have gone out with me a second time if I did.”

  “Why?” I recall our first kiss. “I thought I made it quite clear I liked you.”

  He smiles as he glances at my mouth, and I think he remembers our kiss too. “You did. But I had already tricked you into being on the boat and was still reluctant to let you know I was Christopher, the date you were supposed to be with.”

  I frown as I twirl the cold beer can between my hands. “I had no idea I seem so rigid.”

  Charlie shakes his head. “It wasn’t you. It was me and my old insecurities popping up.”

  “You’re insecure?”

  He sits up and turns to face me. “I had a lot to lose if I didn’t impress you. I researched Diana Russo, founder of Bellae. Your reputation didn’t make you out to be the type to give second chances.”

  He’s right about my reputation. I learned early on I had to be strict as a woman in business to succeed in what was still a male-dominated world. I honed my public persona with the help of a great PR team to make sure nobody thought I was an easy mark, and it served my career well. “People aren’t always what they appear to be online. And why was it so important to impress me? You don’t strike me as the kind who wants a woman who doesn’t want you.”

  He twists toward me, and his hand is warm on my knee as he says, “I fell in love with you long before we met in person. Remember how I always answered you right away as if I actually did work on the site all the time?” I nod. “That’s because I had my phone glued to my body with the website open so I’d get the notification as soon as you m
essaged me.”

  I smile as I remember how often I’d check into Chef Impostor for the same reason. I wasn’t able to admit the depth of my feelings, but Chef P. had my attention. We spent many evenings keeping each other company. I place my hands on his arm. “I was just as available.”

  He leans in closer. “We hit it off from the start, but you wouldn’t let yourself fall for a chef. I also knew if I’d given you the same old boring date Christopher Pierce offers, I’d only get one shot, so I showed you Charlie.” His mouth is only inches from mine, and I look at his lips longingly with the desire to kiss him. “The real man behind the other two faces. The man you claimed you wanted and needed”--he rubs his thumb over my lower lip, sending a zing of pleasure through my body--”but didn’t know how to get.”

  The man who sent me flowers and swept me off my feet with a romantic boat ride. The one who understood what I needed for my insecurities and sent chocolates to show me I was desirable. The guy who helped me shed my impenetrable CEO shell on a dance floor and reminded me of the fact that my things are not important to be happy. I reach up and place my hand on his cheek. “I’m glad that’s who I got.” I lean forward and kiss him. It’s a tender kiss, and when we break apart, I have to blink back the tears that have formed in my eyes. “I missed you, Charlie.”

  “I missed you too, Diana. Can I get a second chance?”

  I nod before I kiss him again.

  Chapter 18

  “Diana.” Charlie scowls at me.

  “Just one more, and I’ll stop,” I plead.

  Charlie sighs before he lifts a piece of apple pie up with his fork and poses for me. My phone camera clicks. “My mouth hurts from holding it open so long.”

  “Poor baby. It’s tough being a social media star,” I say as I scroll through the pictures I took to find the best one. I grab one to crop, and when I’m done, I upload the picture to his Chef Impostor profile. I talk as I type in the caption. “Apple pie at Emma’s Diner in East Cove.”

  Charlie and I are sailing down to Florida on his boat and hitting every coastal diner we can find along the way. At each one, we ask the server for their best pie and review it. It didn’t take long for Chef P. from the Chef Impostor and his trusty sidekick, me, to garner attention with our daily reports.

  I glance at Charlie. His face is tanned from our time on the water, and it emphasizes the way his blue eyes sparkle. I reach over for a bite of the pie, and when I put it in my mouth, I hold it there so I can determine my scores. The crust is flaky and melts on my tongue before tart apple flavor takes over, and it’s followed by a sweet aftertaste that remains once I swallow. “This is top-ten material.”

  “I know,” says Charlie over a mouthful of dessert. “It is really good.”

  I look down at the score sheet before me, and my pencil scratches on the paper as I begin to write in numbers for the various categories. Our fame reaches far beyond anything I ever expected, and we get daily offers to buy spots on our top-ten list, which is not for sale, as well as requests for us to visit diners. The reviews are so popular that an entire section of the Chef Impostor site is now dedicated to perfect pies, and Charlie tells me enrollment in the site is at its highest ever.

  “Oh my god!” a woman squeals as she rushes over to us. She wipes her hands on her white apron before she reaches up to check her hair. “You’re Chef P.!” She takes a moment before she looks at me and says, “And Diana.”

  I kick Charlie under the table before making a slash mark at the bottom of my score sheet. In addition to rating the pie, I keep track of how many women have a crush on my boyfriend so I can tease him about it later.

  “That we are,” says Charlie.

  She blushes as she says, “I’m Emma. Do you like the pie? I know people around here love my apple, but I make a good blueberry one too.”

  Charlie says, “Diana likes it so much she thinks it might make the top ten.”

  Emma looks at me. “Really? Oh my gosh.” She glances down at the pie plate, which has only crumbs left on it. “You only got one piece? Goodness, let me get you more.”

  She’s about to scurry away when I say, “Wait. Do you think I could get your picture with Chef P. to post on our profile?”

  “I--” She smoothes out her apron as her cheeks redden further. “I’d love that.”

  Charlie slides over on his booth seat, and I say, “Sit right next to him, please.” Once she’s settled, Charlie puts his arm around her, and he whispers something in her ear that makes her giggle. I click a few times to capture her beautiful smile. I glance down at the image to see she’s glowing. “Perfect.”

  I listen as Charlie engages Emma on the fine art of making crust while I work on adding her picture to social media. She leaves with instructions to wrap up two more pieces of apple pie for us to take with us.

  “You are a marketing genius, babe,” says Charlie. “We may have to take this on the road when we’re done with the coast.”

  I think about how well the two of us get along. During the mornings, Charlie works while I manage his social media accounts, and when we’re in a port, we eat lunch at a diner and get supplies before returning to the boat. Charlie and I cook dinner together each night, and I’m becoming quite proficient under his watchful eye. Even with the close quarters we live in, we never seem to tire of each other, and we can talk for hours. “We certainly can. Are you still thinking shag carpet and lava lamps?”

  “I think something a bit bigger than a van.” Charlie stands up. “I’m going to go see if I can get Emma to squeeze two pieces of blueberry pie in the bag for us too, since we’ll be sailing most of tomorrow.”

  I nod at him, and I check my emails while he’s gone. My house is on the market, and I want to read my realtor’s showing reports. I peruse the feedback until Charlie returns. When we get outside, I inhale the salty air and glance at the seagulls crying out as they fly overhead. A couple passes us on the sidewalk, and I overhear the man talking about his golf game. It makes me think of the Sand Piper Country Club and my days trying to learn the sport.

  I take Charlie’s arm and lean into him as I say, “I’m really glad we’re taking this trip.”

  “You’re not missing your martinis and golf league?”

  “No. I like living on the boat, ponytails, and eating at diners with you.”

  “I like you this way too, but I also enjoy the Diana who likes to dress up, see Broadway shows, and eat at fine restaurants too. We can’t live this life forever.” Charlie stops walking and turns to face me.

  “I know, but we don’t have to return to the club life where you feel like an impostor.”

  “It’s only a handful of people who see me that way, and it doesn’t bother me. But what about you? Would you like to stay away?”

  “No. But I’m not going to do the things I used to do, just to appear the way I thought Diana Russo, CEO of Bellae, should.”

  “So no more martinis and golf?”

  I shake my head. I don’t plan on giving up my previous life completely. I may be moving to a smaller home and not willing to play a part any longer, but many of the things I worked hard for still matter to me. Charlie’s boat slip is at Sand Piper Country Club, and we’ll continue to go there and enjoy the amenities. And for all the Bitsys, Lauras, and Emilys, there are also women like Nicole whose company I know I can enjoy. I say, “I think I’ll take up tennis again. And switch to wine.”

  Charlie’s arm wraps around my waist, and he pulls me close. I lift my chin to gaze up at him, and the scent of his soap makes me close my eyes as I flash back to the first day we met. He took me on an excursion that has led to our current adventure. I’ve found a man who wants to spend his time with me while we enjoy the things we’ve both worked hard to have. He says, “I’m so fortunate to have found you, Diana. I never expected doing what I love would lead me to the woman I don’t ever want to live without.”

  “I feel lucky too. You’ve helped me discover what it is I want in this next phase of my
life. And the best part is I get to do it with you.”

  “I love you, Diana.”

  “I love you too, Charlie.” I reach up on my tiptoes and kiss the man who compliments me in ways I never imagined. But most of all, he’s taught me to be comfortable with who I am right now. And that’s all I want to be.

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  Look for the rest of Billionaire’s in Love - Coming April 2017

  The Billionaire's Blind Date

  The Billionaire’s Bad Boy (available as a preorder March 15 - released May 15)

  The Billionaire's Rules (available as a preorder May 2017)

  The Billionaire's Second Chance

  The Billionaire’s Secret Baby

  The Billionaire's Arrangement

  The Billionaire's Best Friend

  Read the Snow Kissed Love Series:

  Craving for Love

  Lease on Love

  Rush for Love

  Fierce in Love

  Ready for Love

  Pulse of Love

  About the Author

  Violet Vaughn lives on the coast of Maine with her three dogs. Violet also writes paranormal romance as V. Vaughn.

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  www.violetvaughn.com

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  Crazy for Cole - Kate Willoughby

  Foreword

  Crazy for Cole

  By Kate Willoughby

  Former NHL player Cole Ripley needs a stand-in girlfriend ASAP. When his friend Fedora Echeveria agrees to play along for one night, everything goes well—a little too well. They’re supposed to be pretending but it feels anything but fake.

  © 2017 Kate Willoughby

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