Dating A Silver Fox (Never Too Late) (4 page)

“Will you stop going on and on?” Lydia demanded. “You’d think I never said anything nice to anyone. Maybe I’m getting mellow in my old age. If so, you can thank JD for it. I love being a grandparent. Make me some more grandchildren like him and maybe I’ll think of more nice things to say.”

Lauren shook her finger. “I knew you were up to something. I want to wait until JD is two before I go through all that again. That’s not that long from now.”

“Then you might want to go easy on the pasta until you get pregnant again, dear. You know how hard it is to lose baby weight. Good thing you’re tall enough to hide that extra twenty pounds you gained with JD and still haven't lost,” Lydia said.

Lauren sighed and laughed. “I knew it was too good to last. I should have recorded you being nice with my new phone. No one is ever going to believe me, and tomorrow I won’t even believe it myself.”

When Lydia laughed at her daughter’s teasing again, she felt strange eyes on her. She looked across the room and straight into Morrison Fox’s interested gaze. Her smile fell away, turning to a frown when the man smiled back knowingly and waved.

Morrison always gave her the impression that he knew things about her no one else did. No matter how preposterous such a reality seemed, Lydia still kept her guard up when he was around, just to be safe. She couldn’t imagine why in the world the man was so interested in her.

Lauren looked over her shoulder and was treated to a wave as well. She returned it with a smile before turning back to her mother’s shocked face.

“Okay—maybe Mr. Fox is interested. He looks nice, Mother. How old is he? Around sixty?” Lauren asked.

“Several of the women residents say he’s a touchy-feely kind of guy—likes to hug—that sort of thing,” Lydia said stiffly. “They seem to find his behavior appealing. It’s definitely not for me.”

Lauren looked over her shoulder at Morrison Fox talking to his daughter, and then turned back to look at her mother. “Why not? He’s handsome and looks fun. I think you should date him if he asks you out.”

“Don’t be silly,” Lydia said firmly. “Why would I?”

“I don’t know,” Lauren said thoughtfully, knowing better than to mention again that the smiling man looked like he’d be fun, which really left only one reason her mother might actually say yes. “Is Mr. Fox wealthy? Maybe he’d be a good catch.”

Lydia snorted. “Darling, at sixty-seven my ‘catching’ days are well over.”

“Mother, you need to look in the mirror more often,” Lauren said. “You exercise. You have your hair done. You know you look much younger than you are, and you’re still very attractive. You’re going to look great for another two decades at least if you keep up what you’re doing.”

“Thank you, dear,” Lydia said, pleased that her daughter thought so highly of her. God knew it cost her enough money and effort to keep it true. “Let’s just eat and hope the rude man stops staring.”

***

Morrie turned his attention to his pasta again with a smile. He could all but feel Lydia keeping a discreet eye on him. That had to mean she was interested on some level. What would it take to get her to go out, he wondered?

“Stop plotting,” Jane ordered, fighting not to laugh at the determination in her father’s gaze. “Your flirting is bad enough. The woman with her might be her daughter.”

“So? I’m just waving,” Morrie said easily. “Haven’t you ever waved at a friend across a restaurant before?”

“Morrison,” Jane said, using his proper name and tilting her head as she glared at him worse than Lydia had. “That woman is not your friend. She barely nodded to you when you said good morning to her earlier at North Winds.”

Morrie laughed at his daughter’s consternation.

“Well, we’re not friends yet, Janie, that’s why I waved,” he said, fighting to keep his tone reasonable. “No wonder you’re not dating. You've forgotten how to send out friendly signals.”

Jane pinched off a piece of breadstick and threw it at her father, who had already turned back to stare at Lydia McCarthy with longing on his face.

“If you don't stop looking at her that way, Lydia will be in my office tomorrow demanding I do something about you,” she whispered in mortification, leaning her head on her hand in exasperation when her father caught Lydia's gaze again and winked. “Holy hell, Dad.”

Morrie turned back to his swearing daughter with a broad smile. “I believe that’s an oxymoron dear. If you’re going to swear, you need to learn to just let it rip.”

“I only swear around you when you’re acting this way. Now stop.”

Jane rolled her eyes when he didn’t turn around, but knew there was nothing she could say that would actually make him cease until he was ready to do so. Once obsessed, it was hard to turn Morrison Fox’s attention away from his goal.

She shook her head, hoping some other female caught her father’s interest soon before he did something to Lydia McCarthy they were all going to regret.

Chapter 3

“Need a ride, Beautiful?” Harrison Graham asked, pulling his golf cart to a stop beside the tall auburn haired woman with the best legs and ass he’d seen in years, hands down. He couldn’t wait to show her to Walter. College had kept the boy so busy he hadn’t been to see him in weeks.

“Hello, Harrison. How are you today?” Jane asked, climbing reluctantly inside the cart. At eighty-four, Harrison Graham was an incorrigible flirt. She could only imagine what the man had been like in his younger days. But it was his racecar driving tendencies that always made her hesitant.

“If you want to check out the grounds, there’s no need to walk. I’d be glad to be your chauffeur anytime,” Walter said. “Hey, there’s Lydia. Looks like I’m filling up today.”

He rolled to a smooth stop again. “Hop on, Lydia.”

“I don’t know, Harrison. My mother told me never to accept rides from strange men,” Lydia said carefully, lifting her dangling reading glasses from her chest to her nose, just so she could look over them at him. “You’re without a doubt the strangest man I know.”

When Harrison laughed loudly, Lydia finally let herself smile. Then she noticed Jane Waterfield was staring at her, almost in shock.

“Good morning, Jane. Do I have something on my nose?” Lydia asked, letting her glasses drop to her chest again.

“What?” Jane asked, still trying to make herself believe she actually saw Lydia McCarthy smile. “No. Sorry. Was I staring? My mind is on a thousand things today.”

“If one of them is the open house, I’m still happy to head up the decorating committee if needed,” Lydia offered.

“Thank you, but I think I’ve got it covered,” Jane replied, thinking no way was she letting Lydia McCarthy host anything where she intended to try to lure buyers.

“You walking or riding, honey?” Harrison demanded.

Lydia walked around and climbed into the back seat of the golf cart. “Drop me at the swimming pool, Jeeves. It’s towel folding day at the pool house.”

Laughing, Harrison wheeled around the path, taking curves fast enough to have both women grabbing onto whatever was handy to keep upright. He grinned and hit the brakes hard when they stopped by the pool, sending Lydia sprawling across the backseat.

Jane automatically reached over the back and grabbed Lydia’s arm to keep her from falling out of the cart.

“Harrison, really! Must you always drive like a madman? If I get whiplash, I’m suing you, you old goat,” Lydia proclaimed, climbing off. “Jane, be careful. He’s a maniac.”

Jane laughed. Despite her opinion of Lydia, the woman was absolutely right. Harrison did drive crazy. Fortunately, he always seemed to stop short of running over anyone.

Harrison laughed and zoomed off again once Lydia was deposited. “Man, that woman needs to loosen up, but she’s too mean to get laid.”

“Harrison!” Jane protested, trying not to laugh and failing.

After working at North Winds for months, Jane had a whole new perspective on older people. It no longer shocked her to hear someone Harrison’s age suggesting Lydia’s problem was in needing to get laid, but it stopped being funny the moment Jane thought about her father being the man determined to do it. In fact, the whole line of worry about her father’s sex life appalled her in more ways than one.

“I really don’t think we should be talking about Lydia that way behind her back,” Jane said sharply, softening her chastisement with a grin to let him know she wasn’t really mad. Harrison was outrageous, but he was not mean-spirited.

“Oh, it’s not all her fault. I’m not saying it is. Lydia’s husband was a dick with everyone but his daughter. Couldn’t stand the man myself,” Harrison said briskly, grinning back at Jane. “But if you had met William McCarthy, you’d understand why that fine looking woman has herself trussed up so tight. Tell Morrie he better just give up on getting any of that.”

Jane choked on a laugh and then caught herself, but not before she saw the twinkle in Harrison’s wicked gaze.

“Mr. Graham, it may have eluded your notice, but I am not one of the guys you usually talk to in that manner. Your sexual implications are quite insulting to both Lydia and me.”

“Uh-huh. So you haven’t tried to stop Morrie from chasing her?” Harrison demanded, laughing so much he had trouble getting the question out. He knew she had because Morrie had mentioned it.

“Maybe I have warned my father away from her—not that it’s any of your business,” Jane admonished, squirming in the seat when Harrison laughed again.

“Like anything you or anyone else said would stop that determined man. I knew better than that the first time I shook Morrie’s hand. Now you—I bet your father still stays up nights worrying about you because you’re just like him,” Harrison announced, eyes lighting on something in the distance. “Hang on, Jane. I have to run over someone.”

Harrison hit the accelerator on the golf cart and shot off with Jane squealing and grabbing the seat in alarm. Moments later it was going full out, which was about 25 mph without the governor he’d removed to get it over its max of 15. The man in the path crossed his arms and held his ground. Harrison laughed wildly when Jane put a hand on his arm.

“Harrison! Stop this thing now!” Jane yelled the order, having to catch herself when she was thrown forward in the seat, pushing her short skirt higher up her thighs. She was swearing under her breath when she jumped off the cart to save herself. “Lydia was right. You are a
maniac
.”

She turned her traumatized gaze on the man they had almost hit, only to find herself staring at a muscled male statue in typical female fascination. His face was gorgeous and youthful, but the body was to die for. Her gaze fell to legs straining inside his jeans, to battered sneakers of a size that made interesting questions pop into her head. Finally, her gaze rose up to find a body builder’s chest inside a well-worn Princeton t-shirt that rebelled at constraining it.

By the time Jane’s perusal made it to his laughing blue gaze again, she was speechless and couldn’t remember what she’d been intending to say to him.

“Harrison, you scared the hell out of your passenger. Apologize,” the statue ordered, but Jane didn’t miss the unrepentant grin on his face that was a remarkable mirror of Harrison’s.

“Happy Birthday, Walter. How do you like your present? I raced over here because I was in a hurry to find out,” Harrison declared, resting a wrist on the steering wheel.

“Sorry about that,” Walter said, ignoring Harrison and offering a hand, which was taken automatically by the beautiful woman still wordlessly staring at him. He sure liked the interest in her gaze, and her hand trembling in his was fascinating.

“I’m Harrison Walter Graham II. Call me Walter.”

“Shouldn’t you be the third instead of the second?” Jane asked, staring into his eyes as she wondered just how old Harrison Walter Graham II was, deciding sadly that he couldn’t yet be thirty despite eyes that crinkled slightly at the corners. All his smile lines really said was that he had a keen sense of humor.

“Well, I might have been a third, but Harrison doesn’t believe in being predictable. My father’s name is Leland,” Walter informed her with a grin.

“That’s because it was obvious when he came out of your grandmother quietly looking around and not even crying that he was most definitely
not
going to be a junior,” Harrison pronounced, grinning at Jane’s hand still resting in Walter’s.

“Ignore my grandfather. I assure you my father turned out to be a perfectly nice man despite everything,” Walter said, squeezing her hand reassuringly. “The original Harrison on the other hand could never be described as nice. I’m truly sorry if he frightened you. My grandfather is a bit—eccentric.”

“That’s too tame a term for your grandfather. I stand by my original assessment of Harrison being a maniac,” Jane declared, easing her hand from his firm grip. “But he’s a regularly paying one and I heard he once helped build this place, so he gets to stay.”

She turned to the man in the cart and lifted a finger to point at him. “I am never riding with you again.”

“You’ll forgive me tomorrow, Jane. Nothing is more beautiful than a woman in a rage. And no one is more bull-headed about causing irritation than a man who appreciates it,” Harrison quipped with smile.

Jane shook her head at Harrison and looked back at his much, much younger clone now that she had her initial hormonal reaction under control.