Dating A Silver Fox (Never Too Late) (33 page)

Morrie padded to the island behind her, his bare feet flexing against the smooth tiles beneath them. “I love your kitchen, right down to the floor. Are you ever going to let me cook in here? I promise to clean up after.”

“Why are you dodging my question, Morrison? I looked up that name you call me. It is not flattering and emphasizes the fact that I’m a non-Jewish woman,” Lydia said.

“Well, it is flattering the way I mean it,” Morrie said, rubbing his chin that needed a shave. “Growing up, my parents made sure I went to schools where there were plenty of attractive Jewish women. One of their biggest fears was that I would fall in love with someone not of our faith. They had this idea that it would taint the family line. Since I’m done with children and so are you, I don’t think it’s such an issue anymore. Plus I’m old enough to see that some relationships are spiritually meant to be no matter what kind of lines they cross.”

“So you’re saying if I had met you at twenty still a virgin, your parents wouldn’t have liked me simply because I wasn’t Jewish?” Lydia said, picking up her ice water for a sip.

Morrie shrugged. “They would have come to terms with you once they accepted how I felt. But they still might have whispered about your evil seduction of me behind your back.”

Lydia snickered and put her face in her hand. “Wonderful. I’ve gone from frigid wife to a seducing jezebel in a single night just by sleeping with one irritating and arrogant Jewish man.”

“It’s an affectionate nickname, not a derogatory label,” Morrie said on a laugh.

“It is not. But will you please tell me what definition exists in this world for women? There has to be some term between ‘good girl’ and ‘whore’? I’d really like to find it before I die. It’s certainly not shiksa goddess, so don’t even start on that.”

“Well, actually it is,” Morrie said, sipping his coffee and grinning. “You’re technically forbidden to me, but there’s no woman more appealing. And that body of yours is definitely goddess worthy. Frankly, after last night, I’m not about to let you close those taut thighs of yours against me when I’ve had the pleasure of delving into your sweet. . .uh,
secret
. As long you’re not into sacrificing goats or some other blatantly evil practice, I think we’ll be all right. It’s not very devout of me, but I’m more concerned with how you vote and spend your money.”

Lydia couldn’t find words to adequately express her disgust at his antiquated viewpoint, so she lifted a hand and gave Morrie her middle finger, leaning on her tired arm to keep the finger raised. The gesture was fairly expressive of her displeasure, but she added a glare over it to emphasize the point.

“I believe I’m shocked. No—wait. Is that an offer for a repeat of last night? If so, the answer is ‘yes please.’ I was ready this morning, but you’d already gotten up,” Morrie complained, careful not to choke on coffee as he laughed at her blazing eyes.

“You mean you want me so long as I’m not into sacrificing goats,” she repeated coldly, letting a scathing tone express the depth her exasperation. “If I do ever take that up as a practice, you will certainly know because you and Harrison Graham are going to be first two old goats on the altar.”

“Me and Harrison. Harrison and me. We sure show up on a lot of your lists together. Don’t tell me you now have the hots for two men? I knew I barely managed to take the edge off for you last night, but I think I’m hurt to see the course your fantasies have taken already. I haven’t had my fill of you yet,” Morrie said, watching her gaze narrow while her face flushed. “I’ve never liked the idea of sharing. A man has to draw a line.”

True anger was just beyond this point, Morrie could tell, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from prodding just to see how she much Lydia could take without snapping completely. And maybe he was still a bit miffed about her not being there when he woke.

“Well, I think that about does it for me. This insulting conversation is officially over,” Lydia said flatly, sliding off the stool.

How Morrie managed to get in front of her so fast, she wasn’t sure. His arms were suddenly around her, somehow managing to embrace her tightly while at the same time keeping his touch gentle on her waist.

“I’m sorry. Really. I am sorry. I tease too much. I get nervous and I tease. Or I babble like a idiot,” Morrie said, easing her stiff body closer. Evidently, a full mad had been closer to happening than he thought.

“I’m sorry—truly. Last night exceeded my expectations by a factor of least ten. You still haven’t said a word about how you feel about it this morning.
Fine
isn’t an answer.” When she huffed, Morrie sighed. “I know. I haven’t really given you a chance to say much. I’m scared you’re in denial. I’m torn between wanting to know and being afraid.”

Lydia popped him in the chest with the palm her hand and felt his body give a loud grunt in response. “You make me so angry I could. . .I could. . .kick your disrespectful, teasing
ass
,” she said fiercely.

“Okay, that’s fair. But. . .did I hurt you? Did I scare you? Did you hate what we did? Talk to me, woman,” Morrie demanded, letting the questions tumble out and his fears along with them. “I’m terrified you won’t want to be with me again. When I woke up, you were gone. I thought you might not be able to look at me this morning.”

“Oh for god’s sake, Morrison. . .” Lydia said, his name and the epithet wrenched from her.
What
was she going to do with him? All bluster one minute and poetry the next. The man was infuriating.

“Talk to me,” he repeated, ignoring the flashing fire in her gaze.

“Last night was the best first time a woman could ask for, and
that’s
what it felt like, especially since you know damn well I never had a. . .had a. . .
you-damn-well-know-what
before, so
don’t
make me say it. I’m just having adjustment issues this morning. It’s not easy to become blasé in one night. I haven’t exactly been practicing ‘the morning after’ either.”

She used his dazed reaction to pull his face to hers as she rose on her toes and pressed her mouth to his, amazed once again at the amount of longing and desire that was still between them. It almost made her wish she had gone back to bed instead of exercising the energy off in her workout room.

“I have no regrets about being with you. I do have a few about the past, but I guess I’ll get over them,” Lydia said.

Morrie ran a hand over her hair, wanting with everything in him to believe her. “I can’t fix the past, but I can try to make the next ten or twenty years much, much better if you’ll let me.”

“And if I said no?” Lydia asked. The shocked look at her words changed almost instantly to a determined one. What started as a snort turned into a belly laugh that when she let it loose filled her kitchen. “You are so full of yourself. And I don’t think you care one whit what I believe about anything.”

“My instincts were enough to get me involved,” Morrie said. “The chemistry between us serves as concrete proof to all the important parts of me. But, honey, it’s how much at home I feel in your arms that makes me push on you to admit how you feel about me in return.”

Lydia sighed and stepped away. “I’m not trying to withdraw this morning, but I do need a little space to think about things—us. There. I said it. There’s an ‘us.’ If you don’t mind, I think I’d like to see Regina by myself today. I need a woman to talk to about this and. . .well I don’t really have any friends like that in my life.”

Morrie nodded. “Okay. I’ll still drive you if you like. We can take your car.”

Lydia huffed out another breath and gave him the look she reserved for road kill.

“Give it up, Morrison. I’ll drive myself, and no—I’m not ready to show you my car yet,” Lydia announced, walking to the refrigerator to refill her glass.

“Locking the garage is a cold thing to do to the man sharing your bed,” Morrie said, pushing out his lip.

“If the man sharing my bed wasn’t such a nosy old fart, such measures wouldn’t be necessary,” Lydia said, favoring him with a satisfied smile. “My car is going to remain my close-held secret for now.”

“It’s one of those prissy little VW bugs isn’t it? I bet you’ve got it painted purple with a big giant daisy on the side. That’s it, isn’t it? You’re secretly trying to be a hippie just to get back at your parents for not letting you go to Princeton,” Morrie said, snapping his fingers like her choices were a puzzle that he had finally figured out.

He laughed when he saw her middle finger come up again, this time under his nose.

“Okay. I’ll let you do that if you show me your car,” Morrie said with a smile.

“Not even if you wrangle another scream out of me,” Lydia said stiffly, marching out of the kitchen without a backward glance.

Morrie stood where he was, grinning for a few minutes, and then realization of what she had said hit. He walked into the hall just in time to see Lydia disappearing into her own room instead of the master suite. He raised his voice to be sure she heard.

“I don’t remember hearing any screaming last night. When did you scream? Honey, that was a moan, not a scream. You have so much to learn, and I just hope I live long enough. Don’t worry though, we’ll get to a screamer climax eventually.”

He heard the bedroom door close with a loud click and a lock turning after. Pondering the action, his mouth settled in a grin as he realized how much fun he was going to have once he figured out how to pick the locks. Maybe her instincts were serving her well in warning her.

He also fully intended to make sure Lydia moved back into the master room, and with
him
. By the time he got through with his plans for her, Lydia was going to see herself as the hottest woman that ever walked, which she just about was in his opinion.

But all in good time, Morrie decided. All in good time.

***

That afternoon, she told Regina the abbreviated version of the events of the previous evening, leaving out the exact details. It was still hard enough to discuss even in the abstract.

“Any regrets?” Regina asked, sipping her tea. She could definitely tell something was wrong, but over the many years of her practice she had learned not to offer suggestions until she’d heard all the personal theories the client had about her own situation.

“Regrets? No—none about what I did with Morrie,” Lydia said, setting her half-drunk tea on the marble-topped coffee table in front of the client chairs.

The one next to her was empty, a fact that had Lydia frowning at her wish that Morrie would have insisted on coming. He had given up more easily than usual, probably afraid of what she might report to Regina about last night. He’d already admitted his worry over it to her even though she had a difficult time believing a man would care.

A frustrated, sad sigh escaping was answered by one of Regina’s brows arching.

Lydia leaned back in her chair but met Regina’s inquiring gaze without looking away. “Truly. I have no regrets about anything we did. He was better than I knew a man could be, and he was. . .” Lydia stopped and took a breath as she searched for the best description. “He was the perfect blend of patience and insistence. I can’t explain it.”

“Oh, I think you’re doing very well,” Regina praised, sipping again. “And I know exactly what you mean.”

Lydia nodded. “It isn’t Morrie. Or what we did. It’s just. . .”

“What?” Regina prompted. “You can tell me. That’s why you came alone.”

Lydia nodded again. “Yes. Okay—here it is. I feel like such an old fool. All this time. All the men I turned down. Maybe some of them were as good as Morrie.”

Regina sipped as she nodded. “Likely some were.”

“How could I have just. . .Regina, I’m sixty-seven.
Sixty-seven.
And I’m just now figuring this out,” Lydia exclaimed, her voice hardly a whisper as she rasped out an admission that threatened to choke her with regret.

“It can happen at any age when a person finds a relationship as wonderful as what you have with Morrie Fox,” Regina said calmly, setting down her tea at last.

“I bet you don’t see many as closed off to life as me,” Lydia said.

“Actually, it can happen to anyone. . .” Regain paused, thought, and decided. “Okay. For some reason, I find myself constantly compelled to share my personal story with you, and today is no exception.”

Regina wiggled in her chair and got comfortable.

“My first marriage was awful too, but I had the opposite problem of yours. I wanted our relationship to be intimate, but my husband at the time wanted it to be platonic. Not wanting to be the kind of person who cheats on a spouse, I toughed it out for years until I just couldn’t anymore and finally divorced him. No man even came close to making me think that had been a smart move until Ben came along. I was in my thirties when I divorced Gerald, and forty-seven when I met Ben. The number of years I went without intimacy exceeded the time frame of many marriages. And while I was suffering from loneliness and endless disappointment with the men that didn’t work out, Ben had been happily married to someone he loved deeply, having great sex with her.”

Regina saw Lydia frowning and knew she understood.

“So if I focused on feeling sorry for myself about the past and how awful it was for me, it might keep me from fully enjoying the relationship I have with Ben now. The reality is that it was both our pasts that brought us to being the people who found each other. I use my obstinate nature to my advantage and simply refuse to acknowledge any equation about the past that doesn’t bring Ben into my life.”