Hot Silver Nights: Silver Fox Romance Collection

by Ainsley Booth

  “Are you happy for me or pissed off?” Meghan asked, “Because I can’t tell from your reaction.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Arla bellowed. “You two were always going to get together. I knew it!”

  “How did you know it?” Her friend was prone to exaggeration at times. “I didn’t know it myself.”

  “What’s his body like?” Arla asked, “Does he have any saggy bits?”

  “No,” replied Meghan, pressing her lips together at the thought of his body. “No saggy bits.” There were no saggy parts to him. He was hard, and firm, and had a better body than most men she’d dated that were her age, but, unlike the men she’d been with, Lance was hands down a better lover..

  “How old is he?”

  “He’s not that old,” Meghan replied, defensively. “He’s forty, I think.” I think. She knew perfectly well how old he was, and had lamented over their twelve year age gap as a student. She’d often wondered how their lives might turn out once she graduated. All of these crazy ideas that gave birth and died in her mind, when Mr. Turner had no idea about the strength of her infatuation with him.

  “Forty?” shrieked Arla in astonishment. It felt as if she’d said ‘a hundred.’ “Are all his parts in full working order?” Meghan suppressed her smile and lowered her head, remembering. They were most definitely in full working order. “He’s not that old,” she exclaimed. “And anyway, age isn’t that important the older you get,” she replied, dreamily. “I mean, it’s not like we’re at school anymore.”

  “Then why do people have such a problem accepting an older woman with a younger man?”

  Meghan raised an eyebrow. Who cared? But, yes. If the situation were reversed, if she’d been the older one and he’d been the younger man, people’s attitudes would have been different. Scathing. Disapproving. She didn’t want to worry about such things, especially since it didn’t affect her. Their age—hers and Lance’s right now—didn’t matter anymore. There was no Principal Fielding to warn them. But her family, on the other hand, were another matter.

  “So how did it happen?” asked Arla, gazing at her as if she expected a running commentary on events.

  “I had borrowed his pen and I needed to return it.”

  “How did you end up with his pen?”

  “He came to my workplace last week and we went for coffee.”

  Arla raised a curious eyebrow. “You kept that quiet,” she said, making it sound as if she’d committed treason. “You’ve been acting as if nothing happened that time he almost ran you over at the crossing. Nothing!”

  “Nothing did happen.”

  “But in that time he’s waited for you outside work, you’ve been for coffee and the third time you two meet, you end up in his bed.”

  Meghan blanched. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

  “Uh-huh,” said Arla, sounding as if she didn’t really believe her. “So, you’re at his apartment and?”

  “Do you really want a blow-by-blow account of the evening?”

  “I don’t know. Is there any blow-by-blow account you want to share with me?” Arla collapsed into laughter while Meghan sat there, her face turning bright red.

  “No!” Meghan replied emphatically. “It happened. I don’t know how, or why…”

  But she did know how, and she did know why. It was because she felt something. Maybe it was true that old attractions died hard, and that was why theirs had suddenly ignited. Something had shifted ever since the day of the campus shooting, when Lance Turner reappeared on her TV screen. Those memories from her school days had returned. And when she’d seen him at the crossing the other time, things had shifted some more.

  One look into his eyes and she’d been transported back to that time in her youth. Every single memory, every single emotion, every tiny feeling she had ever had for him which she had buried, now came to the surface, all of it—the lust, and the attraction and the forbidden desire. This was how Lance Turner had inserted himself back into her life and soul.

  “I love you, Meg, and I don’t want to see you get hurt again, I know what you went through with that man last time.”

  Meghan shook her head. This was different. This was nothing like her schoolgirl daydreams. “We’re two different people now. We’re older, and wiser.”

  “I don’t want you to fall apart like you did before.”

  “There was so much other stuff happening then. Stuff with my mom and dad. Then my mom got depressed, my dad didn’t help. You know how tough that time was for my family. It’s wrong to blame it on Lance.”

  “Just be careful.”

  “I feel it here, Arla.” She placed her hand on her chest. “I know I haven’t known him long this time around, but we spent so many months together back then. In the library, and a couple of times we’d talk and go out and get donuts, and we would talk for the longest time…you have no idea how bad things were at home. My mom and dad were constantly at one another’s throats, and I couldn’t get my head together to study. But Lance Turner was always there for me. He was my salvation. He helped me. He was a place for me to go to and he made me better. He made my life better and now that he’s back in my life it’s like we can carry on from where we left. It doesn’t feel as if he’s been gone for so many years.”

  “So you’ve had lots of long, meaningful conversations?”

  Meghan grabbed the edges of her sleeves then placed her arms over her knees. They hadn’t spoken that much. “I feel it here,” she said, pressing her hand against her chest again. “I can’t explain it. I know him, Arla. I know him in my soul. I’ve never felt that feeling of connection with anyone.”

  The room fell silent. “Imagine that,” said Arla, grinning mischievously. “It normally takes four to six dates before you let anyone near your bedroom and Mr. Turner gets a straight pass.”

  “But I don’t see him as Mr. Turner anymore, it didn’t take place in my bedroom, and it’s not a crime.”

  “No, sweetie,” Arla patted her hand. “You don’t need to feel guilty. If he makes you happy, you go for it.”

  She had every intention of it but she wasn’t sure how things might look a week from now. It was all well and good basking in post-coital happiness. “We’ll see.”

  “We’ll see what?”

  “We’ll see what happens next.”

  “You don’t sound as if you’re in the driving seat, Meg.”

  “I need to know what he feels and thinks.” Going away for a week would help.

  “You also need to tell Vincent-at-work that you’re not available anymore.” Meghan scowled. One whole week with Vincent. She felt restlessness all over her body. It wasn’t the work and having to be with a client all week that she dreaded. It was having to spend time with Vincent, hoping he wouldn’t get the wrong idea.

  Chapter 18

  They’d used glue instead of giving her stitches. “Does it hurt, sweetpea?” Lance asked, examining Cassie’s head carefully. “No, Daddy,” said Cassie, shaking her head slowly. Thankfully the cut wasn’t very long.

  He lifted her up into his arms and kissed her cheek, grateful that the injury hadn’t been worse.

  “I’m going to move that trampoline away from the bench.” And the fence and other objects which could harm her. He held her tightly in his arms and stayed that way for a while. He missed his little girl. He missed her like crazy. It was soul-crushing, the way that he could no longer see Cassie’s smiling face every day.

  For years the thought of not being with her had kept him shackled to a marriage that made him miserable. But then a few years ago, when Cassie was three, they had agreed to separate. He’d moved into an apartment around the corner so that he could remain a big part of his daughter’s life but it had been a mistake. Vivian thought she could convince him to change his mind, she pleaded with him to try couples counseling. At least he’d given it a try. But when you didn’t love someone, you couldn’t start to love them if the love hadn’t really been there from the start. They were bot
h different, different personalities, different people with different interests and while this wasn’t a good reason to go their separate ways, her interest in others, even mild flirtations, blatant and in his face, pushed things too far.

  His mistake had been to fall for a nicely packaged Vivian—she’d seemed like the real deal. Feminine, pretty, easy to get along with, and she made him laugh. He’d been instantly smitten. Outwardly they looked perfect, but things slowly fell apart. His feelings had faded, and worse, he was no longer in love. He couldn’t live his life loveless. She could. She didn’t love him. She lusted for him. She liked having him on her arm, liked the way other women stared at him, liked that she was the one who had him. She had often commented that he was like a magnet when he entered a room, attracting women like iron filings as he walked around. She’d become even worse since the shooting.

  Moving closer to Boston had been the best thing he’d done. Before, the two hour or more commute to work and back in the heavy traffic made him even more resentful and frustrated with life. Now he was a mere twenty minutes away. While he loved having the physical distance between him and Vivian, not seeing Cassie daily, or having her be around the corner, was tough.

  “Can you stay today, Daddy?” Cassie asked.

  “It’s Sunday, sweetpea, I’ve got to go to work tomorrow.”

  Her face fell.

  “Maybe I could stay,” he said, grinning as he gave in easily. She cheered up in an instant but his smile soon turned to stone when Vivian sashayed over to his side. Her top with its deep-plunging neckline seemed oddly inappropriate for a normal Sunday evening at home. “Poor baby,” she said, gingerly touching Cassie’s hair. “I hope that cut won’t leave a big bald patch on your head.”

  “That’s a war wound, obtained in the line of having fun, right, sweetpea?” He was inwardly incensed by Vivian’s lack of tact. “Like mine,” he said, pointing to his shoulder. Cassie smiled proudly. “You’ve got two, Daddy,” she said, “this one,” she touched the scar along his jaw. “So I do,” he agreed, “but I don’t want you to try to catch up with me, okay?” he said, placing her gently on the floor. “One war wound is enough. Don’t you worry about this either,” he gently rested his finger a few inches away from her injury. “Your hair’s going to hide it.”

  Cassie grabbed his hand, cheered up by his words. “I think it’s time to get ready for bed, Cassandra,” Vivian said.

  “Can’t you let her stay up a little?”

  “Please let me, Mommy!” Cassie whined.

  “She’s got school tomorrow.”

  “Pleeeease, Mommy.” The more his daughter pleaded, the more Vivian annoyed him. “Don’t be so difficult, Vivian,” he said, trying to keep his irritation at bay. “She’s been to the hospital. Surely you can find it in that heart of yours to relax the rules given the circumstances?” He was thinking of watching a film with Cassie, popcorn, a blanket, cuddling up on the couch. Now that he was here it would be a shame not to make the most of it.

  “Baby,” said Vivian, resting her hand across the back of his neck, “I can absolutely relax my rules around you.” He stepped away, freeing his neck from her hold.

  “You can stay up another half hour, Cassandra.” Cassie’s face washed over with disappointment and he huffed out loud. “Half an hour?”

  “You know what she’s like in the morning,” said Vivian, defensively. “And you’re not the one who has to deal with waking her up the next day and taking her to school.”

  “I could stay over,” he said slowly, thinking about it. And then he would take her to school, and Vivian wouldn’t have a reason to complain. Cassie squeezed his hand tightly. “Please, Daddy. Please stay.”

  “Except I didn’t bring a change of clothes.”

  “I could find you something to wear in bed,” Vivian said in a silky voice that irritated him.

  “We can have Wheaties in the morning, please stay, Daddy?” He jammed his hands in his front pockets. Cassie pleading like this always cut him to the core. It was at times like this that he realized how much their divorce would eventually hurt his daughter. She had no idea of their split. Cassie didn’t think anything odd about their arrangement, and the fact that her parents didn’t live together. He’d pleaded with Vivian not to emphasize it to her. She didn’t need to know. He wanted his daughter to be a little older before she found out.

  “Okay. I’m staying.”

  “Yay!” The little girl jumped up and down with excitement.

  “And if I take her to school tomorrow, she can stay up with me and watch a movie?” he asked Vivian.

  “You’re watching a movie?”

  He looked at Cassie and winked. “You pick the movie, and I get to pick the popcorn?”

  Cassie vibrated with excitement. “Go and pack your things for school then.” She ran towards the door. “Slow down!” he shouted after her.

  “You can sleep in my bed,” Vivian whispered to him seductively as soon as they were alone. She was like a cat in heat, the way she crept around him. “Why would I do that when you have so many spare bedrooms?”

  “It’s just an offer. A man has needs, and I do, too. I miss you, baby.”

  “Is the pool boy away on vacation?”

  She raised her hand to slap him but he grabbed her wrist in time. “We were separated then.” He let go of her and stepped away. Staying here was all well and good but getting away from her was going to be the hard part. “Your personal instructor’s around, though, right?” He grinned, grinned even wider because he knew how much it angered her. “I know how closely he likes to instruct you.” He stepped away before her hand tried to find his cheek again.

  She toyed with a lock of her hair. “We weren’t married then.”

  “But we were engaged.” He should have broken it off then.

  “So I’ve had a few indiscretions,” she said, trying to grab his hand and failing, “But I love you, Lance.” She walked after him as he stepped out into the huge hallway. He glanced up at the spiral staircase waiting for Cassie to come bounding down the stairs.

  “Do you have to ignore me so blatantly?” Vivian’s scent wafted into his personal space. It was the one she always wore, spicy and overbearing, and suffocating his senses. She slipped her hand around his waist. Here it comes, he thought, his gut turning hard like ice, as he got ready to ward her off again. The divorce papers couldn’t come fast enough. “Let’s try to get along as best as we can, Vivian,” he said, removing her hand. “For Cassie’s sake.” His daughter was his Achilles heel and Vivian knew it.

  “Is that perfume?” She edged closer and sniffed around his collar. The woman had the scent receptors of a bear.

  “Perfume?” He tried to make a joke of it as he stepped away.

  “Are you fucking someone?”

  “Are you kidding me, Vivian? Cassie’s had a head injury and this is all you can think of?”

  Chapter 19

  “I’ve heard that Carluccio’s is good,” said Vincent, his face bright with anticipation.

  “Carluccio’s?” She pressed her lips together, wondering how to break it to him.

  “I can book a table.”

  Her insides tightened as if she was getting ready for a second punch to the gut. “A table?” For two?

  She swallowed. It wouldn’t be so bad if she were going out with Lance, but Vincent? He stared at her from across the desk in the tiny little office they’d been given. It would have been better if they were side-by-side, not opposite one another. More than once she’d looked up to catch him staring at her. She’d hated the office setup from the moment she’d stepped foot on the client site. The close proximity to her colleague made her feel claustrophobic. It also made having a private phone conversation impossible and for that reason, she usually left her cell phone on silent, preferring to check her messages and make calls later when she returned to her hotel room.

  Lance had called a few days ago and left a message about having dinner on Saturday. She’d immediately
texted her acceptance while trying to curb the warm, fuzzy feeling his voice and invite had left her with.

  While it was great to get out of the office occasionally, working at a client site had its own set of problems. Not only was she at the beck and call of the client, which often meant a long working day that was out of her control, but the evenings were usually spent socializing. By the time she returned to her hotel room she was too tired, and it was too late, to make personal phone calls. Her mom was often mad when she would be out of touch for weeks at a time.

  “We could go for a few drinks before,” he suggested.

  “Drinks?” She tried to think of an excuse to forego drinks.

  “Come on, Meghan. Loosen up, why don’t you. It’s the last evening. Surely we deserve to end the week with a bang?” She fidgeted with the top button of her blouse. “The week isn’t over yet,” she reminded him, and focused her attention on her screen again. “We’ve got two big meetings tomorrow. Cora wants a breakdown by month and our recommendations with detailed analysis of our proposals.” The project manager from the client company loved her spreadsheets as much as Meghan did and the two women had a good working relationship.

  “Pffft, that woman.” He bared his teeth. “She’s a slave driver.” He sat forward in his chair and leaned across the desk, causing her to instinctively shrink back in her seat. “Despite the Wicked Witch,” he said, referring to Cora, “This week hasn’t felt like work.” He lowered his voice to a whisper, making her stomach churn with dread. “I like working with you, Meghan. I hope we get some more assignments together in future.”

  Her insides shriveled and turned to dust. It was time to put a wrench in his plans. “Cora’s coming,” she announced, gleefully, avoiding the subject of future work assignments altogether.

  “Coming where?” His lips twisted.

  “She asked if I wanted to go out this evening and it would have been remiss of me not to invite her.” She sat back, drumming her fingers on the table, sensing his silent rage.