Once inside the restaurant, both Mort and Alex were more relaxed.  They had engaged in unforced small talk at first, but soon settled into deeper conversation.

"I guess first dates are really the most, um, informative," Alex said.  "So, I'm going to just, put myself on the table - figuratively…"  She winked.  "…for now."

Mort smiled at her.  "You're something else."

"Bad thing?"

"No.  So, it's only fair that I put myself on the table too."  Mort went so far as to lay his upper body across the table.  (If he can run outside in a towel and shaving cream yelling about how much money he was worth, he could certainly do this.) 

Alex laughed and reached out to tousle his hair.  He looked up at her and she shrugged.  "It's cute when it's messy."

"Really?"  Mort sat up and shook his hair, his brown and blonde locks flying free.  "Feel more like myself now."  Alex's hand was on the table and he reached for it.  He traced a finger along her palm, causing her to shiver.  "I'm suddenly feeling more comfortable than I have in a long time.  What is it about you?"

Alex looked almost embarrassed.  "I could ask the same about you."  She moved her hand so that she could lace her fingers with Mort's.  "Can I ask what happened?"

Mort knew exactly what Alex met.  "Will you accept the short version?"

"Of course."

"To make a long, unhappy story as brief as I can, my wife cheated on me, I stowed myself away in my lakeshore home, someone burned down my, well, her home, I signed divorce papers, left said lakeshore home, and here I am."

Alex bit her lower lip.  "I…I'm sorry.  I know that I hate when people say that to me but…"

"It's all right, Alex, I understand that those words always seems to worm their way out."  His fingers were still entwined with hers when their food came – he didn't want to let go, but he forced himself to.  Mort picked up his fork and stabbed into his salad.  "Divorce isn't pleasant, but it's not like Amy died."  Of course she died.  I killed her.  Mort couldn't hear Shooter, but he did bite his tongue.  "I'm sorry, that came out wrong."

"No, I…it's…"  Alex figured the sooner she got things over with, the better.  "My husband, Tristan, was an architect.  There was an accident and he was…crushed."

"Oh…I'm not going to say those words, so how about these: Are you all right?  I mean, with the baby and…"  Mort's voice trailed.

"My sister and her husband are really supportive, and my kids – the ones at school I mean – somehow, they manage to keep my spirits up.  And just so I'm honest with you right away, I was in therapy for a little while."

The word almost made him flinch.  "Therapy?"

"Everyone, especially myself, was worried about me losing the baby if I let myself get too depressed about Tristan, so I went and…it helped.  I'm not nuts or anything, but I know that sometimes the word 'therapy' can scare a person off."

"Not me."

Alex smiled.  I've never wanted someone so…  She shook her thoughts away.  Am I nuts?  I just met him!  "That's nice to know.  Even nicer that Julia didn't scare you off."

"I was supposed to have a baby…there was a miscarriage."  Why did I just say that? 

"Life hasn't exactly been kind to you, has it?"

"It's certainly getting better."

Alex blushed.  "Can we go?"

"Huh?"

"I want…can we go?"

"Oh, God…what did I do?  I freaked you out…"

"No."  Her breathing changed and she realized that she has slipped her foot out of her shoe and it was running up Mort's leg.  She watched his eyes almost bulge and realized that her foot had wandered into some rather personal territory.  She put her hand to her mouth and got up, her shoe still on the floor.  "I'm sorry."  She ran to the ladies' room.

Jesus…  Mort looked down and saw, as well as felt, the effect she had on him.  He picked up her shoe and went after her.  He put his ear to the bathroom door and could hear her pacing – one shoe clicking on the tile floor.  "Alex?" he called through the door.  "Is anyone else in there?"  No answer.  He opened the door and walked inside, not knowing why.

"I'm not like this," she said quickly.  "I just…"  She put her hand to her forehead.  "It's been a really long time since I've been with someone that…just your eyes are enough to…"  She walked closer to him.  "I think I…"

"You know, thinking too much can be dangerous."

Alex eyes closed and she kissed him.  She wrapped her arms around Mort and his followed suit.  She found herself pressing her body as close to his as she could.  Mort responded by turning so that Alex's back rested against the wall.  Their tongues met and Mort's hands began to travel her body.  Alex's leg wrapped around Mort's, her hips pressing into him – she found herself beginning to grind against his arousal.

Take her.  Throw her to the ground and get it done.  While the voice still contained its thick, southern drawl, it had become huskier, more authoritative, and most importantly, audible.  Mort pulled back from Alex, his face suddenly pale.

"Mort?"

His voice was frantic.  "We can't do this.  We shouldn't be doing this."

Alex's eyes made her look wounded.  "Did…did I do something wrong?"

Mort breathed deep, calming himself.  "No," he said softly.  "Nothing at all, I just…"  He licked his bottom lip, he could taste her and wanted so badly to kiss her again, but fear trumped over all else.  "…we've both been without 'companionship' for so long, Alex.  If we let the physical take over, we could end things before they begin."  Sounds good – rings true…much better than saying that someone else seems to be occupying my brain at the moment. 

"End things?  You want to see me again?"

Every night before I close my eyes.  "I do.  I mean, if you want to see me again as well."  Alex nodded.  "O.K., then," Mort smiled.  "We'll slow down, there's no need to rush into anything."  Being a coward again.  Can't even get a woman into your bed – don't want a woman in your bed.  Sissy.

"Mort, are you all right?"

"I'm just sorry that I wasn't more of a gentleman."

Alex looked away.  "I wasn't being much of a lady." 

Mort put his hand under Alex's chin, gently turning her face towards his.  He kissed her very gently.  "We'll slow down."

***

Author's Note: Too cutesy at some points?  I want Mort to want a normal relationship desperately, not that that can necessarily happen, but…Ugh, anyway, I really hope I'm not pushing the cheese factor here, but trust me when I say it'll get better…please trust me…No, don't run away from the fic!  I can fix it!  Heehee…