Free Dating A Silver Fox (Never Too Late) by Donna McDonald

enthusiasm.
    Two years of dating had taught him that the way a woman treated food said a lot about her. In Lydia’s case, she ate every meal like she was practically starving to death. Which she undoubtedly was based on what he knew of her, Morrie thought.
    Watching her eat, he was envious of her pasta and shocked at himself for it. He wanted nothing more passionately in his life than to make sure Lydia never went hungry again. What was it about the woman?
    Along with the hunger to have her in the normal ways, Lydia McCarthy also brought out the strangest protective tendencies in him. Sighing again, he reached into the breadbasket, chose a piece, and held it out to her.
    “Here. Take this,” Morrie ordered.
    “What for? I try not to over-indulge in carbs,” Lydia said tightly, taking it from his fingers just to move past the awkward moment.
    “It’s not to eat. It’s to throw,” Morrie told her with a grin. “You might want to break it into pieces. I have a feeling you might need it after what I’ve decided to confess to you.”
    Lydia narrowed her eyes as she slid another bite off her fork and chewed. “If you’re determined to ruin my dinner, you might as well spit out your drivel. I already know there is no stopping you.”
    “You are a hard woman, Lydia McCarthy. I’m sure that’s kept most males out of your life, but I’m not so easily discouraged. I like a challenge, and you are the most interesting woman I’ve met since Evelyn. I have decided not to let you wither and die on the vine, a lonely grape never getting a chance to become wine,” Morrie said dramatically.
    “Do you have some sort of book you get those out of, Morrison?” Lydia said sharply, moving her whole attention to her food.
    “ Better pass boldly into that other world, in the full glory of some passion, than fade and wither dismally with age. That’s James Joyce and I damn well agree with him,” Morrie said firmly. “And I live that way. You should too.”
    “Good for you, but we can’t all be Morrison Fox. Or James Joyce for that matter,” Lydia said tightly, the next bite sliding down hard. She picked up the bread she’d taken from Morrie and started to eat it.
    “Learn to live life with me Lydia. I could show you some amazing things. Let me turn you into wine so I can enjoy you,” Morrie said.
    “Are you done? You’ve had your dramatic moment, now can I please enjoy my dinner?” Lydia asked, picking up seasonings and added a dash of cayenne to her pasta.
    “You know, I bet if I kissed you after this meal, you’d taste spicy,” Morrie said, lifting his wine for a sip. “You going to let me kiss you later?”
    “Not if I get to your kneecap first,” Lydia told him, rubbing her nervous stomach under the table. He was being preposterous. Ludicrous. A flirt with no moral boundaries.
    “Bet you wonder what I would taste like too,” Morrie declared.
    “I assure you I have never wondered that about a man in my life,” Lydia informed him, throwing down the tiny bit of the bread she hadn’t eaten in nervous panic.
    Knowing full well she hated it, Morrie shrugged instead of answering, fighting the urge to laugh when she glared.
    “Well, if you ever get curious about how I taste, let me know,” he said, going back to his food and humming while he ate.
    “Move on, Morrison. Nothing is going to happen,” Lydia said.
    “We’ll see,” Morrie said lightly. “So what’s for dessert? Suddenly I’m craving lemon gelato. I guess I’m in the mood for something tart.”
    Lydia shook her head and tried to put her attention back on her food.
    Bravery exhausted. Now all she wanted was the dinner to be over.

Chapter 7
     
    Over the next two weeks, they worked together pretty seamlessly, which surprised Lydia. Morrison had backed off making personal comments, keeping his teasing to project work. She assured herself that it was a good thing he had stopped hounding her so much with his crazy talk about dating.
    Having failed