Out Of Date (Book One of the Cougar Town Series)

Out of Date

By

Emma Daniels

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2012

Chapter One

I feel so out of date, Lydia Elliston lamented as she paced the floor of her living room.

What do you mean? The clothes you’re wearing are hardly old. I helped you buy that skirt and top only three weeks ago at Myer, remember? replied her friend, Olivia. She motioned to her with both hands from where she was sitting on Lydia’s lounge.

Lydia huffed as she continued to wear a circle into the carpeted floor. Yes, clothes suitable for a forty-four year old.

"That’s because you are a forty-four year old," Olivia reminded her. She was also wearing what Lydia considered safe clothes; designer yes, but nothing like the colourful, rather revealing outfits they would have worn twenty, fifteen, or even ten years earlier. Being a lawyer, Olivia was extra conservative in her clothing choices.

Sometimes I feel like life is passing me by. Shop-keepers call me madam. I’m Emily’s mother, or Mrs Elliston, English teacher. I don’t feel like a person in my own right. Lydia drew in a breath as she steeled herself to reveal her news. At last she sank into a convenient lounge chair. I didn’t tell you about this before because it’s kind of embarrassing… but I joined one of those over-forties singles groups. I went to my first dinner last night.

Just because a couple of dates end up without a follow up doesn’t mean it will always be like this. You’ve only just started going out again.

Actually, I was asked out … by two men. But that wasn’t the problem.

Olivia’s eyebrows shot up. "Two men asked you out? Let me guess - they were both obscenely overweight with more hair sticking out of their noses than on their heads, and they talked with their mouths full?"

No. Lydia had to laugh at Olivia’s description. They were both quite average, perfectly ordinary fifty-something year old men.

Then what the heck’s brought on this bout of self-pity? Olivia asked in bewilderment.

"I told you! They didn’t see me. As soon as we started talking and they discovered I was a widow with a grown up daughter, their eyes lit up. The first man ranted on about how he hates desperate divorcees who think no man is good enough for them. He made it perfectly clear that he didn’t want a date. He wanted a cook and housekeeper."

Olivia nodded. Well, we all know there are still plenty of chauvinists out there. What about the other one?

He seemed nice enough at first, until I discovered just how needy was. He kept talking about how lonely he was, and how he wanted a companion to travel around the country with him in his camper van. When I said I wasn’t interested, he spun around so fast I swear I saw sparks fly, and practically pounced on the woman on his other side with exactly the same story.

Okay, so it didn’t work out. There are plenty of other ways to meet someone. There are heaps of dating agencies for older singles on the net.

Lydia shook her head. I don’t think I want to go through all that.

Why not?

After nursing Paul through his illness, I don’t want to take on someone else’s baggage. Neither do I want to be someone’s domestic servant, not that I minded caring for Paul. I mean we did marry for better or worse. Pity there was so much of the worse part during the last few months of his life. Lydia sighed. You of all people should understand after all I went through with him.

Of course I do. I was with you for most of it, but I don’t understand what you want now.

Lydia threw her hands in the air. "I don’t want to change the way I live. In a way I’ve grown used to being on my own, but there are still things I miss, like the companionship … and if you must know … the sex. I want an uncomplicated relationship with someone who recognizes that even though I’m no longer twenty, or even thirty, I’m still a woman. For once in my life, I want it to be about me."

Interesting idea, but it’s never going to happen.

You don’t know that. And don’t use that lawyer voice of yours on me. I’m just pointing out that if two consenting adults want physical pleasure, why can’t they be selfish as well as happy? Sex is the only activity I can think of where your partner can get exactly what he wants as well.

Don’t you think you’re a bit old for a relationship based mostly on sex? I mean that's the sort of attitude you expect from teenagers. Older men want more than that.

Suddenly it dawned on her. Lydia snapped her fingers and scooped up from the coffee table the newspaper that she’d been reading earlier. That’s it! That’s what I’ve been doing wrong. I need a younger man.

Lydia, you can’t start chasing teenagers!

Lydia stopped flicking through the newspaper and looked up, glaring at her friend in disdain. I don’t want a teenager. Yuck! I have a much better idea … Here it is, She waved the paper triumphantly in the air, in the personal column. ‘Man, late twenties, would like to meet woman, forty to fifty, for a good time.’

Oh no you don’t. Olivia grabbed at the paper but Lydia held it out of her reach. Lydia, you are not going to contact that man. He’s probably a pervert. Why would someone in his twenties be looking for a woman aged forty to fifty if there wasn’t something wrong with him? You can’t be serious.

Why not? I’m not stupid. I’ll arrange to meet him somewhere public.

What if you’re not safe in public? Or worse still, what if he turns out to be someone you know? Like an ex-student?

How likely is that? Nowra is a big enough town. What if he’s exactly what I’m looking for? If I don’t make an effort nothing will change. I’ll be stuck in this rut until I am too old to go out and enjoy myself. Where’s the phone?

With a sigh of resignation, Olivia stood up. If you’re hell bent on doing this, then I’m at least going to make sure you minimize the risks. Don’t give him your phone number.

Liv, I think that’s what these voice mail boxes are for. Besides, if I don’t give him my number, how are we going to arrange a meeting?

It’s too risky.

Lydia’s patience came to an end and she snapped; It’s about time I took some risks. I’ve always played it safe and where has it got me? The only excitement I get is from reading raunchy romance novels. She found the cordless phone under a magazine and began dialling.

Olivia snatched it from her fingers. Wait. Before you do anything, think. What are you going to say?

Lydia’s mind went blank. Oh. Her mouth twisted wryly. What do you think I should say?

Olivia shook her head in frustration. Absolutely nothing. But if you must, just your first name and mobile number, nothing he can use to track you down. It’s a recorded message anyway, and if you do arrange to meet this guy, you let me know exactly where you’ll be and when you’re going to be there.

Lydia pulled a face. I’m nervous enough already. I’m a grown-up. I think I can trust myself not to get into trouble.

Olivia shook her head again. I have to make sure you’ll be safe.

All right, Lydia relented. She could see the merit in that, and she had to admit she was glad Olivia cared enough to want to ensure her safety. She had been there for her when Paul had died from cancer. Most of her other acquaintances had melted into the woodwork when she needed them most. So she shouldn’t begrudge her this small boon - if Lydia could actually dredge up the courage to make the call.

Daniel Logan glanced up at his boss, Greg Adams, who stood lounging against the frame of Daniel’s office doorway as he waited for Daniel to read through the document he had tossed on his desk. I can't see any legal impediment to stop you, Daniels said, finally glancing up from the sheaf of papers.

Good. Because I’ll bet my bottom dollar she’s going to make a fuss. Everything must be watertight before we talk to her.

Like I said, there’s no legal impediment, but she’ll still have every reason to think its discrimination, Daniel explained, dropping the document back down onto the desk in front of him.

I don’t care what she thinks. It’s what she can prove in court that matters. Greg thrust his hands into his pockets, and adopted a casual stance; a pose Daniel had learnt meant Greg was anything but relaxed. There’s no place on television news, even in regional New South Wales, for a woman over forty. If we renew her contract, we’re stuck with her for another three years. Once she starts showing her age, the public won’t want her in their living rooms anymore.

Daniel raised his eyebrows. The polls say she’s still very popular.

Greg shrugged. So? Viewers are fickle. They have no loyalty. They’ll go for any pretty young face we shove in front of them. They don’t want some hatchet-faced battle-axe growling out the news at them.

‘Hatchet-faced battle-axe?’ Amanda Henderson was only five years older than Daniel, and he thought she looked pretty damn good whenever he saw her on the screen. Thirty-eight hardly qualifies as old, he remarked.

It does in the world of television. Viewers want youth, so we give them what they want.

Rod’s got to be at least fifty. Daniel motioned to the papers in front of him. Are you going to refuse to renew his contract when it comes up as well?

It’s different for male newsreaders. Older men are seen as authority figures. Maturity gives them credibility.

Daniel didn’t bother to argue. What could he say anyway? The industry discriminated against older women. One relatively junior lawyer in a regional television network wasn’t going to change that. He’d been asked to review Amanda Henderson’s contract to see if the station faced any legal consequences if they didn’t give her another three years in front of the camera. He hadn’t found any loopholes or possible threats to the network.

Greg turned to leave. The main thing is you’ve checked over the contract, and regardless of what Amanda thinks, there’s nothing in it she can use against us.

The lawyer before me knew his stuff. He drew up the first contract to keep her tied to the network. In the last contract she signed the relevant clause was made quite clear. If the network chooses not to renew the contract, there’s no obligation to offer any reasons or compensation. I’m surprised Amanda and her legal representative agreed to the changes.

The chubby, middle-aged manager leaned against the doorframe again. Amanda would have agreed to anything. Television is a competitive business. There are hundreds of would-be journalists out there. They don’t care what the terms of the contract are, as long as they have one.

He turned and left Daniel’s office, smiling and nodding at people on the floor as he went, lord of his small domain.

Daniel sank back in his chair with a heavy sigh. Like all lawyers he had to adhere to the letter of the law. His job didn’t require him to judge the morality of any issue. But he was pretty certain Amanda Henderson was going to give them a damn good run for their money.

Chapter Two

Lydia sat in her car, about to switch the ignition back on and drive away. All she had to do was get out and walk a block and a half to a café. But her heart raced, her knees felt weak, and her hands grew sweaty.

The man, who'd rang in response to her voice mail message, had sounded calm and articulate. The conversation had been short and to the point. He had not asked for, nor offered, any personal details. And neither had she. Then he’d suggested meeting in a café in the centre of town on Thursday afternoon.

The directions had been simple. Lydia just had to walk in and look for a young, slender, brown-haired man reading a book.

So why couldn’t she do it?

Because what had seemed like a decent plan a week ago when she’d first come up with it, now seemed totally absurd. Why would a twenty-something man want to become involved with an older woman anyway? What if he was a scammer, a weirdo, a potential stalker? Yes, Olivia, dear friend that she was, had come up with all those possible scenarios to put her off the idea.

Lydia turned the key and started the motor back up. Then she thought about having to tell Olivia she’d chickened out. Olivia would applaud Lydia’s decision, happy for her to stay in her safe, conservative little rut. And Lydia would turn off the lights at the end of the day and get into her cold, empty bed as bored and unsatisfied as she was now. She was over her marriage, over the grief – ready to move on. She had to start taking risks or nothing was going to chance.

Once again she turned off the engine and climbed out of the car before she could talk herself out of it again. She started walking briskly and kept up the momentum until she stepped inside the Hot Roast café - where she came to an abrupt halt.

The place was full, most of the tables occupied by single people. Several were men with volumes open in front of them, something she might have expected if she’d realized the cafe had a book shop attached to it.

How could she pick out the right man now?

Panic set in again. Lydia tensed, preparing to flee, when a young man sitting virtually at her elbow looked up. He gave her a small, slightly vague smile. She drew a deep breath and asked tentatively; Daniel?

His dark eyes instantly became more alert as his gaze focused on her. Yes. His voice sounded deeper than it had on the phone, but then she’d been in such a state she couldn’t really remember what he’d sounded like.

With trembling fingers Lydia pulled out the seat opposite him. Her shaky knees gave out, and she collapsed onto the hard wooden surface. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to pick you out.

His brows drew together in a small frown. Oh God, he doesn’t like me already, Lydia though. She had tried so hard with her appearance, putting on a professional-looking knee length beige skirt and a soft floral button through blouse. But perhaps, like most of her clothes, it dated her, showed her age. Maybe she looked like his mother. She half stood. Look. I can leave now if this is no good.

He gestured her back down again, and let the book in front of him on the table drop closed. No. At least catch your breath. A waiter appeared alongside the table. Order a cup of coffee. Then you can tell me what you want.

Lydia nodded. He had been pretty brief on the phone too. Perhaps he’d done this often enough to have a routine. She could only follow his lead. At least she could tell Olivia whatever problem he had wasn’t in the looks department.

He was pretty damn hot. His white shirt stretched over broad shoulders, and from what she could see across the table he didn’t appear to be carrying any extra weight around the middle. His dark brown hair wasn’t sprinkled with grey, and his skin was smooth, stretching over even, handsome features. His mouth and his eyes were the nicest of all; full lips and soulful chocolate-brown eyes. He looked older than twenty-eight though. He had a rugged attractiveness that should have had women flocking to him. She found it hard to believe he had to resort to putting ads in papers.

The waiter, obviously quick on the uptake, placed hot coffee in front of her, and Lydia took a calming sip. She put it back on the saucer with only a small clatter, and the handsome man opposite raised a brow. Feeling better?

A bit. I’ve never done this before. I don’t know the correct procedures.

He smiled, making him look more approachable. He had seemed so stand-offish a moment ago. At the moment I’m not sure what they are either. Perhaps you could explain what you want with me.

Lydia took a shaky breath. This wasn’t at all how she’d thought it would go. Surly he could be a bit more forthcoming with his side of the deal? Once again she wondered if he’d changed his mind because he wasn’t attracted to her. "It might be easier if I explained what I don’t want."

If that helps. Go on.

Well. She paused, and then poured the words out in a rush. I don’t want any ties or obligations. I’m not looking for marriage or anything.

His indrawn breath interrupted her. His neutral expression told her nothing, nor did his tone. Well, I’m glad we got that out of the way. I repeat, what, exactly, do you want?

Tension, lack of self-confidence, and outright fear scrambled her mind and stopped any attempt at urbane, sophisticated conversation. Her utterly muddled brain reverted to what it knew. Before she could censor herself, the words tumbled out of her mouth, Well, just the sex, I suppose.

He choked on his coffee and grabbed a napkin to stop it from spraying everywhere. At the same time, Lydia realized what she’d said. She felt her face burn up as it turned a bright red.

The man caught his breath and stared at her in astonishment. What on earth is this about?

Lydia started to tremble. The … the ad. The one I answered … ‘Would like to meet older woman.’

His face remained totally blank. What ad?

Even through her shivering, Lydia’s voice sounded