Hot Silver Nights: Silver Fox Romance Collection

by Ainsley Booth

  No. That wasn’t right. It was worse than that. He thought she wasn’t able to pass for a girl. Well that was going to change, that was for damn sure. After tonight, he was never going to be able to look at her again without picturing her in Full Woman Mode.

  Chapter 3

  Cole pulled up to the ugly lemon yellow apartment building in National City where Fedora lived and cut the motor. He’d memorized the directions so his mom wouldn’t suspect he’d never been there before. The outside staircases sported a stucco of sage green, creating a color combination that he found unappealing. In the courtyard, an oddly tufted palm tree that looked like something out of a Dr. Seuss book, stood guard.

  He was damned lucky Fedora had agreed to do this. After she hung up on him, he’d realized how badly he’d fucked up. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she up and quit her job because he’d been such an asshole. He’d thought he was doomed until, in the middle of breakfast, she’d called and said she’d do it—she’d pretend to be his girlfriend. He almost couldn’t believe it. Sure, she wanted an appliance for Hat Trick in exchange, but that was nothing in comparison to what he was asking for. If Slater and Flynn didn’t agree to it, he’d pay for it himself.

  “You want to wait in the car, Mom? Fedora lives upstairs…”

  “All right,” Ruth said.

  Earlier his mom had been complaining about some minor hip pain, but stubborn as always, she’d refused to bring her cane. She hadn’t wanted to look feeble when she met Fedora for the first time. He’d always admired his mother’s fierce independent streak. She was a strong woman who set goals and got things accomplished, but now that she was getting up there in years, he worried that this would become a problem. Well, at least she was staying in the car rather than dragging herself all the way up those stairs.

  He jogged up to the second floor and knocked. He could smell someone cooking something with onions and peppers and it made his stomach growl. From this vantage point, he could see into a neighbor’s backyard where he saw, of all things, a chicken coop. He’d never seen one in person before and—

  The door opened.

  He blinked.

  What the ever-loving fuck?

  Fedora stood there in the dusky twilight looking fucking fantastic. His brain actually shut down for a second to reboot. This was not the Fedora he knew from Hat Trick. That Fedora wore a thick white chef’s coat with straight sides that pretty much rendered her sexless. Her wide leg pants helped minimize burns from hot liquids. And then there were those ubiquitous black buckled clogs. They looked like they weighed ten pounds each and every time he looked at them he expected her to break out in a rendition of Edelweiss. When she wasn’t wearing that coat, she had on a loose T-shirt, usually stained.

  But all that was gone. Tonight she…she looked like a woman. Fuck. And not just any woman. She looked literally fantastic, like something out of a fantasy. His eyes darted all over, from the halter neckline of her bright orange dress to her bare legs to high-heeled shoes that made him want to drop to his knees and kiss her dainty toes, then back up to her chest. Man, she had a set of traffic-stopping boobs. And her hair. It was loose and motherfucking long. She always had it wrapped up in either a bun at the nape of her neck or in two smaller buns on the top of her head where antennae might be. Now, it fell in a thick, shiny black curtain past her shoulders.

  Fedora’s transformation reminded him of a gift he’d gotten when he was a little kid. He remembered being confused when he’d unwrapped it to find capsules that looked like medicine. He’d thought it was the shittiest present ever. Who gave someone vitamins for his birthday? Then his parents had helped him put the capsules in water where they’d magically expanded into dinosaur-shaped sponges. The delighted awe he’d felt then was similar, but not nearly as strong as what he felt now.

  A breeze kicked up and molded the thin fabric to her curvy body and—holy mother of the baby Jesus—her nipples came to attention and all the blood in his body seemed to rush right to his dick. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her breasts. Again, his brain was trying to reconcile itself to the fact that she had breasts—beautiful and plump and soft-looking. He found himself wondering what her nipples looked like. Were they large or small? A dark brown or a pale pink? Even more provocatively, he wondered what the might feel like in his hands, taste like against his tongue.

  “Do I pass muster?” she asked, slowly turning in place.

  His cheeks felt hot. Hell, his whole body felt like it was going to self-combust. “I…I…” He couldn’t seem to form words as her bare back came into view.

  She wasn’t wearing a bra.

  Holy hell.

  With a wry smile, she touched his unshaven cheek and trailed her fingertips over his stubble. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  That shook him out of his stasis. “Of course that’s a yes. I’m…I’m in shock, that’s all.”

  Her smile was brilliant and she cocked a hip, which sent his eyes pinballing over her figure again. “So, I look the part, right?”

  “What part?”

  “The girlfriend part. Remember?” She snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Previously on the Cole Ripley Show, Cole told his mom he had a girlfriend named Fedora. Then Cole’s mama showed up, so Cole had to produce the Fedora girlfriend or risk losing his mother’s respect forever…”

  Shaking his head, he chuckled. “Okay, okay, I remember now. Jesus. I was just…knocked off balance by how outstanding you look.”

  That already brilliant smile increased in wattage. “Thank you.”

  The only thing that reminded him of the Fedora he knew was the denim jacket she was shrugging on.

  He both liked and hated the jacket. Now, he was deprived of the sight of her bare back, so sexy and smooth. On the other hand, this helped to remind him that she was his employee, and therefore not a woman whose breasts he’d ever get the privilege of feeling.

  Unfortunately, she chose that moment to shatter his fragile hold on reality by kissing him.

  She cupped his face in her warm hands, pulled him down and touched her lips softly to his. After a brief moment of shock, his libido revved into high gear and he devolved into little more than an aroused male animal with a desirable female within his grasp. Without much thinking, he tried to pull her closer but she had already broken the kiss and was turning away to grab her purse. The loss of the warmth of her body brought him back to his senses.

  This is Fedora, he told himself, your executive chef, a woman you employ. Remember that, moron.

  “That was for your mom’s sake,” Fedora said, “in case she’s watching. You can see my door from the street.”

  “Oh, right. Good.”

  Thank God Fedora seemed to remember they were playacting.

  He let her precede him down the stairs and he purposely kept his eyes off her beautiful curvy body. He did have a strong mental game after all those years of professional hockey, and he wasn’t some young buck controlled by his hormones, wanting to fuck everything on legs. He could do this.

  But as she got into the car, Cole stole another look at her legs. He wanted to slide his hand over her golden skin to see if it felt as smooth and silky as it looked. As he circled to the driver’s side, he surreptitiously adjusted himself. His cock wasn’t at full attention anymore, but everything had gotten moved out of position. By the time he was back in the driver’s seat, his mom and Fedora had already introduced themselves.

  “…told me so many wonderful things about you that I had to come see for myself,” his mom was saying. “And now I see he wasn’t exaggerating.”

  “I could say the same about you, Mrs. Ripley.”

  Cole started the engine and pulled away from the curb.

  “Ruth. Call me Ruth. Cole, she’s so pretty and so tanned! I wish I could tan like that. It must be all that San Diego sun.”

  “Actually, I hardly get any sun,” Fedora said. “I’m in the kitchen most of the time. This is just my natural skin color.”

/>   “The kitchen?”

  “Yes. Didn’t Cole tell you? I’m the executive chef at Hat Trick.”

  Ruth glanced at Cole. “No, he did not tell me that. How…how wonderful. Personally, my husband I would have killed each other if we had to work together, but good friends of mine worked in the same office for many years very successfully.” She turned to Fedora. “Is he a good boss?”

  “Oh, jeez.” He steeled himself.

  “As a matter of fact, he’s a very good boss. He, Flynn and Slater are terrific. I was worried that with three of them, I’d get all sorts of crossed signals. I’ve been through that too, where two owners couldn’t agree. And I thought that with three it might be even worse.”

  “Why’d you take the job then?” Cole asked.

  “I wanted to be an executive chef. I wanted that on my resume. I told myself that I’d stick it out for a year and if it sucked, I’d move on.”

  “I never knew that,” he said with a frown.

  “Of course you didn’t,” Fedora said. “That’s not the type of thing you tell your boss.”

  “So it’s past a year now, obviously you’ve decided to stay,” Cole said.

  “Yes. I love Hat Trick now. I actually didn’t even need a year. I decided to stay about six months ago, the day I gave everyone the cookies, actually.”

  He did a double take. “What? The…oh. Those cookies.” He started laughing.

  “What cookies?” Ruth asked. “Tell me.”

  “It’ll probably come as no surprise to you that your son likes to play tricks on people,” Fedora said.

  Ruth laughed. “Cole has been a prankster since he was in preschool and switched up everyone’s stuffed animals at nap time.”

  “Did you really?” Fedora asked, poking him in the shoulder.

  “That’s what everyone says. I don’t really remember.”

  “That’s so funny,” Fedora said. “Well, not much has changed, Ruth. All my bosses love to pull pranks.”

  “It’s a hockey thing,” Cole said.

  “About once a week there’s some kind of fake vermin or worse in my kitchen. Rubber rats, bugs, snakes, plastic poop, rubber throw-up.”

  “Hey, I come by it honestly,” Cole said. “Mom’s favorite holiday is April Fool’s Day. We’re talking raisins in the toothpaste tube, salt in the sugar bowl, plastic wrap over the toilet bowl…”

  Fedora gasped and Ruth chuckled. “Wait, doesn’t that make the…”

  “Yes, there was pee everywhere,” Cole said. “And she made me and my brother clean it all up.”

  Ruth held up her finger. “But I took you guys out for Big Macs and ice cream afterward.”

  Cole laughed. “Man, I haven’t had a Big Mac in forever.”

  “Tell me about the cookies,” Ruth said. “I’m dying to know about the cookies.”

  “Hey, we’re here,” Cole said. “How about we tell the story after we’re seated?”

  “Sounds good,” Fedora said.

  Cole had brought them to the Bluewater Boathouse Seafood Grill, a restaurant that had once been a boathouse for the famous Hotel Del Coronado back in 1887. With a red roof that echoed the famous hotel, Bluewater Boathouse had amazing views of the marina, which was not surprising considering the structure sat above the water. You could even arrive by boat, if you wanted.

  After ordering drinks, Fedora told the story of the prank that really got the ball rolling for the entire staff. It started two months after she’d been hired. On Halloween, Cole, Slater and Flynn had decided to dress up. As Fedora. It wasn’t difficult. She wore wide-legged jeans, a white T-shirt under her chef’s coat, and clogs every day. Of course, everyone on the staff realized immediately what they’d done and when Fedora saw them, she thought it was funny. It wasn’t the first prank that had occurred at Hat Trick. Late one night after closing, Slater had put a fake rat in the walk-in fridge for the staff to find the next day.

  “So about a week after they’d dressed as me, I decided to, not really retaliate, but I don’t know…show them I had a few tricks up my sleeve too.”

  “Liar,” Cole said. “You flat out told me you did it for revenge.”

  Fedora laughed. “Well, you guys did make fun of my clothes. That seems to be a habit for you, Mr. Ripley,” she said with an arch look.

  Ruth frowned. “I think you have wonderful taste in clothes. You look beautiful in that dress. Orange looks good on you.”

  With a glance at Cole, she turned to Ruth and said, “Thank you.”

  “So, let’s get back to the cookies,” Ruth said. “I’m almost afraid to ask what was in them.”

  “Well, I went to Hat Trick early to bake them and Cole actually walked in.”

  “I immediately thought something was up,” Cole said. “Cookies are not on the menu at Hat Trick. That’s when she confessed to wanting some revenge.”

  “And instead of foiling the whole plan, he offered to help.”

  Cole was always down for a good prank, especially when the victims were Slater and Flynn.

  Together they made the most disgusting batch of cookies ever. He did actually taste one, and as expected, they were vile—flavored with garlic and maple syrup, with bits of shrimp shell and chicken liver for good measure. But somehow they looked like something out of a food magazine, deceptively beautiful and professional. The next day, Flynn and Slater, not suspecting a thing, were happy to find a package of the cookies on their desks. Cole got one too, for appearance’s sake. The cards said, Dear Guys, I am absolutely loving working at Hat Trick and wanted to commemorate the two month anniversary of you hiring me. You’re the best bosses I’ve ever had. Bon appetit!

  Ruth loved watching the video Cole had shot of Flynn spitting cookie all over his desk and washing his mouth out with a succession of coffee, water and sports drink. Slater had a similar reaction, but had the decorum to spit into the trash can.

  “It was so funny,” Fedora said. “Later that night at Hat Trick, the boys were offering the cookies to the staff and watching their reactions.”

  “Sounds like you two make a good team,” Ruth said, with not even a hint of shame.

  Fedora put her hand on top of Cole’s. “That we do.”

  Again, he was unprepared for the skin-to-skin contact, but she was acting as if this was normal, this casual touching. To him, it felt anything but casual. It felt exciting and a little dangerous.

  Their food arrived. All three of them had ordered the Cajun Swordfish with garlic butter over scalloped potatoes and sautéed vegetables. Bayside Boathouse was known for their sustainable, locally caught seafood and it was superb. Conversation centered over Fedora’s background in the restaurant business and to Ruth’s various philanthropic endeavors in the San Francisco Chinese community.

  “That’s so interesting to me,” Fedora said. “Until tonight, I had no idea Cole was part Chinese. I mean, I knew he wasn’t one hundred percent white, but now that I’ve met you, I guess I can see a little Asian in there.”

  “He didn’t tell you?”

  “I didn’t think it was relevant,” Cole said.

  His mom frowned, but Fedora interjected. “Do you speak any Chinese, Cole?”

  “Not really. I knew a few words when I was little.”

  “It’s one of my biggest regrets,” Ruth said, “that I didn’t teach them more Chinese. At the time, I felt that if my children and I spoke a language my husband couldn’t understand, it would make him feel left out.”

  “You could have taught him too,” Fedora suggested.

  “I tried that. It…didn’t take,” she said, laughing. “Some people are good at languages. Harry was not one of them.”

  Fedora turned to Cole. “You named your cat after your dad?”

  “I don’t see a problem here. I loved my dad. I love my cat. It’s an homage.”

  His mom patted his hand.

  “I can see how speaking Chinese in front of your husband might divide the family,” Fedora said. “I love being bilingual. I’d li
ke to learn a third language someday.”

  “What is your second language?” Ruth asked.

  “Spanish.”

  Ruth leaned forward and said in a conspiratorial voice, “Teach me how to say something bad in Spanish.”

  Fedora glanced at Cole. “Like what?”

  “An insult, maybe.”

  “I…no. I can’t do that.”

  “Sure you can. I know how to say shit in French. It’s merde. How do you say shit in Spanish?”

  “Mierda.”

  Ruth repeated the word clearly and loudly.

  Amused, Cole glanced around to see if anyone understood what she’d said.

  “Please teach me an insult,” Ruth said again. “Let’s say someone cuts me off on the freeway and I almost get into an accident. What do I yell at them?”

  Fedora looked at Cole as if to say, is she for real? Cole shrugged.

  “You could yell cara de culo.”

  “Cara de culo. What does that mean?” Ruth asked.

  “Ass-face.”

  Ruth cackled with glee. “Cara de culo, cara de culo, cara de culo.”

  She was like a little kid who had just learned a bad word from an adult and was trying it out for size. He’d known that as one’s parents aged, the roles would probably reverse with the child caring for the parent, but this wasn’t the kind of scenario he’d envisioned.

  “Mom, keep it down, will you?” Cole said. One of the wait staff was biting back laughter. “Mexico is only about twenty miles away. A lot of people around here know Spanish.”

  The server cleared the dishes and they ordered a piece of Key Lime pie to share for dessert.

  “So, Fedora, tell me, do you think Cole is handsome?”

  Cole was interested to hear her answer.

  “Of course, I do. He’s drop-dead gorgeous. It’s his eyes, really. He’s got amazing eyes. And I really love his salt and pepper hair.”

  Cole started when she reached out and threaded her fingers through his hair. It felt insanely good but the contact was too fleeting. He wanted to do the same and sink his hands into her long black tresses. He still couldn’t get over the fact that she’d been hiding that glorious hair all this time.