Dating A Silver Fox (Never Too Late) (14 page)

“Really? Like what?” Walter asked, genuinely interested in her answer. “Make me a list.”

Jane smiled but wouldn’t have responded to that specific demand for information without being tortured into doing so. Walter had been dropping by her office to chat ever since Harrison had introduced them. She had made up her mind on his second visit not to encourage the younger man, but she couldn’t help teasing him a little. He was fine to look at, and fun to flirt with as well. His unexpected appearances always improved her day. She was going to miss him as much as Harrison when she left.

“Ask me for that list again when you’re thirty-five, Walter. If I’m still single, I just might answer you then,” Jane said.

“That’s too far away, Jane. I’m sure you don’t want any nasty surprises cropping up so early in our marital relationship any more than I do. Well at least not in the first couple of months anyway,” Walter advised. “After that, I’d like to know all your secrets—nasty or otherwise. I’m a firm believer that a wife should be able to ask her husband for anything.”

“Walter Graham—the last thing you need at your age is a wife,” Jane said sagely.

“Maybe I’m more grown up than you think,” Walter said.

Snorting at his offended expression, Jane walked away. If she bruised Walter’s ego, he’d rebound soon enough. When a man looked like he did, there were always going to be females willing to soothe him.

“Enjoy yourselves, boys. Make sure you have dinner before you leave. The caterers are costing me too dearly to let the food go to waste,” Jane said over her shoulder.

Walter watched Jane’s hips shifting inside the knee length pencil skirt as she walked off to meet the next set of people coming through the door. He noticed that Jane favored loose slacks for physical work but wore very tight skirts for schmoozing. Hell of an interesting contrast to his mind. It only made him curious to find out more about her.

For example, he’d love to know what Jane slept in, and he had spent quite a lot of time wondering which side of her clothing tastes would rule between the sheets. Walter would bet money it was a long t-shirt and not another damn thing underneath. In fact, he’d been thinking about what Jane would be like in the bedroom ever since he’d proposed. But evidently, she was going to be shocked to find out how seriously he’d meant it.

“You’re not going to get anywhere with Jane as long as she continues seeing you as some college kid,” Harrison informed him. “You want those daydreams to become reality, you’re going to have to work for it this time. She not one of your swooning fan club groupies.”

“Why are you busting on me so hard, Harrison?” Walter asked, sitting back down.

“That’s what business partners do. They look out for each other,” Harrison told him. “Jane Fox is an investment in my progeny. She’s going to help you make great babies, my boy—among other things.”

“Jane’s close to forty. Maybe she doesn’t want babies,” Walter mused.

And that would probably be a showstopper for him. He didn’t want them now either, but he wanted the option for them. He could only imagine how much fun he’d have making them with Jane.

“Jane will want yours—if you’re half as good as you think you are,” Harrison said sharply.

“Look, I already admitted you were right about her. Jane Fox is damn interesting. And if I get this place—,” Walter stopped, lowered his voice. “If I get this place, then I’ll have a business under my belt, not that I plan to run it. You can run it. I’m going to make it environmentally green.”

“Yes—we all know what you want to do,” Harrison said with an eye roll, giving Walter a sharp look that said to stop soapboxing his causes. “And that’s fine. I’ll hire someone to manage the daily work. You see to the business stuff and no one will care how often you go play with fire in your free time.”

“Damn it. It’s not playing with fire—it’s putting them out. Don’t you start on me too. Dad’s bad enough. I don’t want to have to hurt you, old man,” Walter threatened.

“Big talk. You going to beat up on a helpless eighty-year-old?” Harrison taunted.

“Helpless my ass—but I’d rather go chase down Jane and try to convince her I’m a grown-up. You okay here?” Walter asked.

Harrison nodded and smiled when the boy took off.

***

Lydia came out of the kitchen and pointed at the tables of food, trying to shoo Harrison to eat. Shaking his head, he was laughing when she walked by.

“Hey good-looking, want a job?” Harrison asked.

“Why would I want a job?” Lydia demanded on a laugh, giving herself credit for not tacking on that she would never be desperate enough to work for the likes of him.

Harrison shrugged. “You would be the perfect employee. You never stop, so you’re obviously one of those Type A people. It will take a heart attack to make you sit longer than ten minutes.”

Lydia walked to the chair across from him, the one his grandson had occupied up until a few minutes ago, and sat in the still warm seat.

“Happy now?” she asked.

Harrison laughed and shook his head. “No—I’m timing you.”

Lydia snorted. “Since we’re making casual conversation, what did you tell Morrison Fox about me?”

“I told him you weren’t going to give him the time of day, much less anything else,” Harrison said firmly, watching the pink rise in Lydia’s face with fascination. “Why? Did he say I said something?”

“Well—no. I guess he didn’t,” she admitted. “But I know you, Harrison. You love to gossip.”

“Only as much as you love to snip and snap at innocent things people say,” he replied.

“I do not
snip and snap
,” Lydia said hotly. “I state my opinion without apology.”

Harrison threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, that’s a good one. I don’t know what a friendly guy like Morrison sees in you. There’s really no accounting for chemistry. So glad I’m past all that love stuff.”

“What love stuff? I assure there is no love stuff between Morrison Fox and me. We’re barely friends,” Lydia said.

“Hey, you’re supposed to be my grape, Lydia McCarthy. Why are you letting another man squish you behind my back?” Morrison asked, pulling a chair out from beside Harrison and sliding it around the table until he was sitting next to Lydia with their legs almost touching.

“What
are
you talking about?” Lydia demanded sharply.

“I’m accusing you of flirting with Harrison,” Morrie explained.

“Me? Flirting with Harrison Graham? You’ve got to be joking,” Lydia declared.

“Okay. I admit I didn’t really believe it,” Morrie agreed. “I just wanted you to think I was jealous. Thought you might be flattered if I was. I kind of owe you one for you being jealous of my sister when you came to visit.”

“You went to visit him?” Harrison asked, his laughing gaze moving between them.

“For crying out loud, Morrison, I was not jealous of your poor, grieving sister. Must you always joke about everything?” Lydia demanded. “I don’t like feeling like you’re making fun of me.”

“Okay. You’re right. I’m sorry if I tease too much,” Morrie said easily.

“It’s fine. Just stop doing it,” Lydia warned.

Starting to stand, Lydia suddenly felt a strong hand clamp down on her leg. It held her firmly in place and she couldn’t move. She would have complained, but she couldn’t think clearly with Morrison’s hand squeezing the knee he held under the hem of her dress. Oh God. What did he think he was doing?

“What now?” Lydia squeaked in alarm, willing herself not react even when butterflies filled her stomach. She glanced around the room to see who was watching, but no one seemed to be paying them any mind.

Morrie kept his hand firmly in place as he looked at the woman he’d longed for all week. His desire for her just wasn’t going away. And now he was reduced to wild machinations just for the chance to touch her.

“I just realized that I can’t promise not to tease you again. I have to squish you to make the wine, Lydia. It’s the only way,” Morrie said with a grin.

Rolling her eyes at his craziness, Lydia pried his hand off her leg, amazed at how much force she had to exert to unclamp his fingers. Morrison Fox had very strong hands.

“Will you stop with the stupid wine metaphors?”

“No,” Morrie said. “But I will stop teasing you tonight,
if
you kiss me.”

“Kiss you? Maybe when hell freezes over,” Lydia said, keeping her voice low as she stood to leave.

“Pick another cliché when you fuss back, Lydia. I don’t really believe in hell,” Morrie said with a shrug.

“Well, you would if you were me,” Lydia told him archly, moving around the chair before he could take hold of her again. “The gatekeeper’s name is Morrison Fox. I’m sure you know him.”

“Is that another insult?” Morrie demanded. “That’s going to cost you two kisses. I’ll collect before you go home. What time does this thing end?”

Lydia shook her head and walked off without answering, thinking she was going to have to cut back on her volunteering if Morrison kept up his shenanigans.

***

Watching the fight culminate with Lydia’s dramatic exit, Harrison felt something he thought just might be excitement. His respect for Morrie had jumped up about six notches on the Graham amazement meter, but it seemed like a good idea to stoke that particular fire to make sure it didn’t go out. It was way past time Lydia McCarthy let a decent man into her life. Harrison wouldn’t mind seeing it happen before he kicked off. He’d always fancied her, even when she didn’t return the sentiment.

“I have a twenty in my pocket that says you won’t get one kiss from that woman this evening, much less two,” Harrison declared, grinning at Morrie’s gaze glued to Lydia’s backside as she stomped off. Men were the same, no matter how old they got. The thought made Harrison grin harder and feel better about himself.

Morrie turned to look at him finally, his gaze very knowing and wise. The earnestness in it made Harrison want to laugh out loud, but he couldn’t afford to indulge that urge. The man hadn’t taken the bet yet.

“In or out, Fox? I could die while you make up your damn mind. You talk big. Let’s see you back it up,” Harrison ordered, pursing his mouth to keep his lips from forming a smile that would give him away.

“I know you think you have an edge because you’ve known Lydia McCarthy most of her life, but I’ll take that bet. You ever seen Lydia in that dress before, Harrison?” Morrie asked. “I bet you haven’t. I bet that dress was chosen just for me.”

Harrison laughed loudly then. It was just too funny to think of Lydia buying clothes to impress Morrison Fox, even if he sort of hoped the lovesick, hopeful man was right.

“You honestly think Lydia McCarthy bought that outfit she’s wearing tonight solely for your benefit?” Harrison asked, shaking his head as if he felt sorry for Morrie.

“Yes. And I really do intend to kiss her before she leaves,” Morrie declared, grinning at Harrison’s disbelief. “Watch me, you contrary old fart.”

“Insults on top of bragging? It’s on now,” Harrison declared, laughing as he considered Morrie’s supreme confidence. “Walter’s phone takes pictures. We have to bring him in on this. There will be evidence before I fork over hard cash. So you better work your magic within phone camera range.”

“Tell Walter to keep an eye out then,” Morrie said, smiling with confidence. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go chase a woman.”

Harrison laughed, and was still laughing when Walter returned. Part of him actually hoped Morrison Fox was more than just a braggart.

“Hey, Walter. I have the perfect distraction for you,” Harrison said, leaning conspiratorially towards his grandson. “Morrison Fox just bet me twenty dollars he was going to kiss Lydia McCarthy before he left this evening. I want you to follow him and take a picture if he does.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Walter said with a smirk, looking and seeing Morrison Fox standing hands in pockets, talking to the same couple Lydia McCarthy had been with all evening. “No can do, Harrison. For one, Morrison Fox may be my future father-in-law. For another, I don’t think I want to mess with Ms. McCarthy. The woman scares me.”

“I agree Lydia is scary, but this is important. There’s money on the line, Walter. How about I split the winnings with you?” Harrison offered. “Seventy-thirty. And thirty is being generous since you’ve shamed me by being frightened of a little old lady.”

“Fifty-fifty,” Walter declared. “I don’t see you in a hurry to do your own dirty work. That tells me I’m not the only one scared.”

“Sixty-forty then,” Harrison offered reluctantly, struggling not to laugh at Walter’s negotiations.

“Only if I get the sixty. After all, it is my phone camera,” Walter declared, immediately regretting it when he noticed the twinkle in his grandfather’s eyes.

Why had he just agreed to do something asinine for a few bucks of a stupid wager he hadn’t even made? His grandfather had been talking him into things his whole life. His Dad was always warning him to be careful, but Walter fell into the thrill of making the deal every freaking time.

Damn the old man for outsmarting him yet again, Walter thought, his mouth twitching while he waited for the closing.