The Manning Grooms (2 page)

“Are you going to phone him?” Carrie asked, holding out the receiver.

“I suppose I will.” Charlotte rose awkwardly to her feet in her straight skirt. By the time she was upright, her daughter had dialed the number and handed her the receiver.

“Hello,” came Jason Manning’s voice after the first ring, catching her off guard.

“Oh…hello…This is Charlotte Weston in apartment 1-A. We have a broken faucet. I managed to turn off the valve, but we’d appreciate having it repaired as quickly as possible.”

“A broken faucet,” he repeated, and although she knew it made no sense, he sounded suspicious to Charlotte, as though he thought she’d purposely interrupted his evening. She resented his attitude.

“Yes, a broken faucet,” she returned stiffly. “It came off in my hand when I went to wash some lettuce. There’s water everywhere.” A slight exaggeration, but a necessary one. “If you’d prefer, I can contact a plumber. Naturally there’ll be an additional charge for repairs this late in the day.”

He muttered something Charlotte couldn’t decipher, then said, “I’ll be right over.” He didn’t seem too pleased, but that was his problem. He shouldn’t have agreed to manage the apartments if he wasn’t willing to deal with the hassles that went along with the job.

“What did he say?” her daughter asked, eyes curious, when Charlotte hung up the phone. “Is he coming?”

“He said he’d be right over.”

“Good.” Carrie studied her critically. “You might want to change clothes.”

“Change clothes? Whatever for?” Surprised at her daughter’s concern, Charlotte glanced down at her business suit. She didn’t see anything wrong with it other than a little water, and in any event, she couldn’t care less about impressing the apartment manager.

“Whatever.” Carrie rolled her eyes, returning to her homework. No sooner had she sat down than the doorbell chimed. Her daughter leapt suddenly to her feet as if she expected to find a rock star at the door. “I’ll get it!”

Jason considered the whole thing a nuisance call. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what Carrie Weston was doing. The girl had arranged this broken
faucet just so he’d have a chance to see Charlotte. The kid seemed to think that once Jason got a good look at her mother, he’d change his mind about wanting to date her. Well, there wasn’t much chance of that.

Apparently the girl thought he was something of a player. Jason might’ve gotten a kick out of that a few years ago, but not now. Not when he was nearing middle age. These days he was more concerned about his cholesterol level and his weight than with seducing a reluctant woman.

He probably would’ve ended up getting married if things had worked out between him and Julie, but they hadn’t. She’d been with Charlie nearly seven years now, and the last he’d heard, she had three kids. He wished her and her husband well, and suffered no regrets. Sure, it had hurt when they’d broken off their relationship, but in the end it just wasn’t meant to be. He was pragmatic enough to accept that and go on with his life.

Jason enjoyed the company of women as much as any man did, but he didn’t like the fact that they all wanted to reform him. He was disorganized, slovenly and a sports nut. Women didn’t appreciate those qualities in a man. They would smile sweetly, claim they loved him just the way he was and then try to change him. The problem was, Jason didn’t want to be refined, reformed or domesticated.

Charlotte Weston was a prime example of the type of woman he particularly avoided. Haughty. Dignified. Proper. She actually washed lettuce. Furthermore, she made a point of letting him know it.

“Hi.” Carrie opened the door for him, grinning from ear to ear.

“The faucet broke?” Jason didn’t bother to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

She nodded, her smile as sly as a wink. “Kind of accidentally on purpose,” she explained under her breath.

Jason was surprised she’d admit as much. “I thought that might be the case.”

She pulled a screw from the small front pocket of her jeans and handed it to him. “It was the only way I could think of to get you here to see my mother up close—only don’t be obvious about it, all right?”

“Carrie, is it the apartment manager?” The subject of their discussion walked into the living room, drying her hands on a terry-cloth apron.

Not bad
was Jason’s first reaction. She’d changed her hair since the last time he’d seen her; it was a cloud of disarrayed brown curls instead of the chignon she’d worn a year earlier. The curls gave her a softer, more feminine appeal. She was good-looking, too, not trying-to-make-an-impression gorgeous, but attractive in a modest sort of way. Her eyes were a deep shade of blue, as blue as his own. They were also intense and…sad, as though she’d withstood more than her share of problems over the years. But then, who hadn’t?

Her legs were attractive, too. Long and slender. She was tall—easily five-eight, maybe five-nine.

“She’s not bad-looking, is she?” Carrie asked in a whisper.

“Shh.” Jason slid back a warning.

“Mom, this is Dr. Jason Manning, remember? Our apartment manager,” Carrie said, her arm making a sweeping gesture toward her mother.

“Hello.” She stayed where she was, her fingers still clutching the apron.

“Hi. You called about the broken faucet?” He took a couple of steps into the room, carrying his tool kit. He’d have a talk with Carrie later. If this took more than a few minutes, he might be late for the Lakers play-off game. It was the fifth game in the series, and Jason had no intention of missing it.

“The broken faucet’s in the kitchen,” Charlotte said, leading the way.

“This shouldn’t take long.” Jason set his tools on the counter and reached for the disconnected faucet. “Looks like it might be missing a screw.” He turned pointedly to Carrie, then made a show of sorting through his tool kit. “My guess is that I have an identical one in here.” He pretended to find the screw Carrie had handed him, then held it up so they could all examine it. “Ah, here’s one now.”

“Don’t be so obvious about it,” Carrie warned in a heated whisper. “I don’t want Mom to know.”

Charlotte seemed oblivious to the undercurrents passing between him and Carrie, which was probably just as well. He’d let the kid get away with it this time, but he wasn’t coming back for any repeat performances of this handyman routine.

“I should have this fixed in a couple of minutes,” he said.

“Take your time,” Carrie told him. “No need to rush.” She walked up behind Jason and whispered, “Give her a chance, will you?”

True to his word, it took Jason all of thirty seconds to make the necessary repair.

“The bathroom faucet’s been leaking, hasn’t it, Mom? Don’t you think we should have him look at that, too, while he’s here?”

Jason glanced at his watch and frowned. If the kid kept this up, he’d miss the start of the basketball game. But he decided he had little choice: pay now or pay later. He gave Carrie the lead she was hoping for. “Or it’ll need fixing tomorrow, right?”

“Probably.” There was a clear glint of warning in the fifteen-year-old’s eyes.

Charlotte turned around and glanced from one to the other. Crossing her arms, she studied her daughter, then looked at Jason as if seeing him for the first time. Really seeing him. Apparently she didn’t like what she saw.

“Is something going on here I don’t know about?” she asked.

“What makes you say that?” Carrie said with wide-eyed innocence.

Jason had to hand it to the girl; she had the look down to an art form.

“Just answer the question, Caroline Marie.”

The mother wasn’t a slacker in “the look” department, either. She had eyes that would flash freeze a pot of boiling water.

The girl held her own for an admirable length of time
before caving in to the icy glare. She lifted her shoulders with an expressive sigh and said, “If you must know, I took the screw out of the faucet so we’d have to call Jason over here.”

Once again Jason glanced at his watch, hoping to extract himself from their discussion. This was between mother and daughter—not mother, daughter and innocent bystander. He hadn’t meant to let Charlotte in on her daughter’s scheme, but neither was he willing to become a full-time pawn in Carrie’s little games. No telling how many other repair projects the girl might turn up for him.

“Why would you want Dr. Manning here?” Charlotte asked with a frown.

“Because he’s a good-looking man and he seems nice and I thought it would be great if you got to know each other.”

It was time to make his move, Jason decided. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be leaving now.”

“You purposely broke the faucet so we could call him down here?” Charlotte gestured toward Jason.

Carrie sent him an irritated look as though to suggest this was all his fault. “I wanted him to see you. For being thirty-five, you aren’t half bad. Once he saw your potential, I was sure he’d ask you out on a date. I tried to talk him into it earlier, but—”

“You
what?
” Charlotte exploded. Color flashed into her cheeks like bright neon lights. Her eyes narrowed. “Tell me you didn’t!
Please
tell me you didn’t!”

Carrie snapped her mouth shut, about ten seconds too late to suit Jason.

“This is all a big joke, isn’t it?” Charlotte turned to Jason for reassurance, which was a mistake, since he was glaring at Carrie, irritated with her for saying far more than necessary.

“I had to do something,” Carrie cried, defending herself. “You need a man. I saw the look on your face when you were holding Kathy Crenshaw’s baby. You’ve never said anything, but you want more children. You never date…I don’t know what my father did to you, but you’ve shut yourself off and—and…I was just trying to help.”

Charlotte stalked to the far side of the small kitchen. “I can’t
believe
this. You actually asked a man to take me out?”

“I did more than ask. I offered him money!”

Charlotte whirled on Jason. “Just what kind of man are you? Agreeing to my daughter’s plans…Why…you’re detestable!”

Despite himself, Jason smiled, which was no doubt the worst thing he could have done. “So I’ve been told. Now if you’ll both excuse me, I’ll leave you to your discussion.”

“What kind of man are you?” Charlotte demanded a second time, following him to the door, blocking his exit.

“Mom…”

“Go to your room, young lady. I’ll deal with you later.” She pointed the way, as if Carrie needed directions.

Jason hadn’t imagined things would go like this,
and he did feel badly about it, but that didn’t help. Charlotte Weston could think harshly of him if she wanted, but now Carrie was in trouble and Jason felt halfway responsible.

“She was just trying to do you a good turn,” he said matter-of-factly. “Think of it as an early Mother’s Day gift.”

W
ith her daughter out of the room, Charlotte scowled at Jason Manning, angrier than she could ever remember being.

“You’re…” She couldn’t think of anything bad enough to call him.

“
Detestable
is a good word.” He was practically laughing at her!

“Detestable,” she repeated, clenching her fists. “I’ll have you know I’m reporting you to…” The name of the government agency, any government agency, was beyond her.

“Children Protective Services,” he supplied.

“Them, too.” She jerked the apron from her waist and threw it on the floor. Surprised by her own action, Charlotte tried to steady herself. “According to the terms of our rental agreement, I’m giving you our two-weeks’ notice as of this minute. I refuse to live near a man as…”

“Heinous,” he offered, looking bored.

“Heinous as you,” she stated emphatically. Then with an indignant tilt of her chin, she said as undramatically as she could manage, “Now kindly leave my home.”

“As you wish.” He opened the door and without a backward glance walked out of her apartment. He’d worn a cocky grin throughout, as if he found her tirade thoroughly amusing.

His attitude infuriated Charlotte. She followed him to the door and loudly turned the lock, hoping the sound of it would echo in his ears for a good long time.

When he’d gone, Charlotte discovered she was shaking so badly she needed to sit down. She sank onto a chair, her knees trembling.

“Mom?” A small voice drifted down from the hallway. “You weren’t serious about us moving, were you?”

“You’re darn right I’m serious. I’m so serious I’d prefer to live in our car than have anything to do with that…that…apartment manager!”

“But why?” Carrie’s voice gained strength as she wandered from her bedroom to the living room, where Charlotte was seated. “Why are we moving?”

Charlotte had clearly failed as a mother. One more layer of guilt to add to all the others. “You mean you honestly don’t know?”

“To punish me?” Carrie asked, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “I’m really sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

What Carrie had done was bad enough, but Jason Manning was an adult. He should’ve known better. True, her daughter had played a major role in all this, but Carrie was a child and didn’t fully understand what she was suggesting. Her daughter had Charlotte’s best interests at heart, misguided though she was.

Jason Manning, on the other hand, had planned to take advantage of them both.

“It isn’t you I’m furious with, it’s him.” Charlotte pointed after Jason. To think a professional man would actually agree to such an idiotic scheme.

“Dr. Manning?”

“The man’s a sleaze! Imagine, taking money from you—”

“He didn’t.”

Charlotte hesitated, the sick feeling in her stomach intensifying. “Of course he did,” she argued, “otherwise he wouldn’t have played out this ridiculous game with you.”

“I was the one who took the screw out of the faucet, Mom. Jason Manning didn’t know anything about it. When I asked him if he’d agree to take you out on a date, he refused. He was really nice about it and everything, but he didn’t seem to think it was a good idea. That’s when I offered him the babysitting money I’ve been saving, but he wouldn’t take it.”

A dizziness replaced Charlotte’s nausea. Several of Jason’s comments suddenly made sense, especially the hint of sarcasm she’d detected when he’d held up the missing screw. Yet he’d allowed her to rant at him, not even bothering to defend himself.

“But…”

“You really aren’t going to make us move, are you?”

Charlotte closed her eyes and groaned. She’d had a rotten day at the office, but misplacing a file and getting yelled at in front of an important client didn’t compare with the humiliation that had been awaiting her at home.

“I wonder how many fat grams there are in crow,” she muttered under her breath.

“Fat grams in crow? Are you all right, Mom?”

“I’m going to be eating a huge serving of it,” Charlotte grumbled, and she had the distinct feeling she wasn’t going to enjoy the experience.

She gave herself an hour. Sixty minutes to calm her nerves, have dinner and wipe down the counters while Carrie loaded the dishwasher. Sixty minutes to figure out how she was going to take back her two-weeks’ notice.

“You’re going to talk to him, aren’t you?” Carrie prodded her. “Right away.”

Charlotte didn’t need Carrie to identify
him.
They both had only one
him
on their minds.

“I’ll talk to him.”

“Thank heaven.” Carrie sighed with relief.

“But when I finish with Jason Manning, you and I are going to sit down and have a serious discussion, young lady.”

Some of the enthusiasm left Carrie’s pretty blue eyes as she nodded reluctantly.

Charlotte would’ve preferred to delay the apology, but the longer she put it off, the more difficult it would become.

Her steps were hesitant as she approached Jason’s apartment. For some reason, she chose to knock instead of pressing the doorbell.

When he didn’t answer right away, she assumed, gratefully, that she’d been given a reprieve. Yet, at the same time, she hated letting the situation fester overnight. With reinforced determination, she knocked again.

“Hold your horses,” Jason shouted from the other side of the door.

Charlotte took one step in retreat, squared her shoulders and drew in a deep breath. He opened the door. He looked preoccupied and revealed no emotion when he saw her.

“Hello,” she said, hating how shaky she sounded. She paused long enough to clear her throat. “Would it be okay if I came inside?”

“Sure.” He stepped aside to let her into his apartment. One glance told her he wasn’t much of a housekeeper. A week’s worth of newspapers were scattered across the carpet. Dirty dishes, presumably from his dinner, sat on the coffee table, along with the remote control, which he picked up. The TV was instantly muted. He walked over to the recliner and removed a pile of clothes, probably things he’d recently taken from the dryer.

“You can sit here,” he said, indicating the recliner, his arms full of clothes.

Charlotte smiled and sat down.

“You want a beer?”

“Ah…sure.” She didn’t normally drink much, but if there was ever a time she needed to fortify her courage, it was now.

Her response seemed to surprise him. It certainly surprised her. He went into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a bottle and a glass. Apparently he found something he didn’t like in the glass because he grabbed a dish towel from the stack of clothes he’d dumped on the floor and used it to rub the inside. When he’d finished, he raised the glass to the light for inspection.

“Don’t worry about it. I prefer to drink my beer from the bottle.”

He nodded, then sat down across from her, leaning back and resting his ankle on his knee. He seemed completely relaxed, as well he should.
He
wasn’t the one who’d have to plead temporary insanity.

“It’s about what happened earlier,” she began, gripping the beer bottle with both hands. “I talked to Carrie and discovered you hadn’t exactly, uh, fallen in with her scheme. I’m afraid I assumed you had.”

“Don’t worry about it. It was a simple misunderstanding.”

“I know. Nevertheless…”

“I’ll place an ad in the paper for the apartment tomorrow. Would it be okay if I started showing it right away?”

So, he was going to make this difficult after all. “That’s another reason I’m here.”

“You’ve changed your mind about moving?” he asked conversationally, his gaze slipping from her to the television screen and back. Charlotte, however, wasn’t fooled. Like any other man, he would enjoy watching her squirm.

His eyes wandered back to the silent TV. He made a fist, then jerked his elbow back in a gesture of satisfaction. Obviously things were going well for whichever team he was rooting for—much better than they were for her.

“I’d prefer not to move…Carrie and I like living where we do. The area suits us and, well…to be honest, I spoke in anger.” This was all she was willing to give. If he was vindictive enough to demand she vacate the apartment, then so be it. She wasn’t going to beg.

“Fine, then.” He shrugged. “You’re a good tenant and I’d hate to lose you.” His gaze didn’t waver from the television.

“Who’s playing?”

He seemed surprised by her question, as though she should know something so elementary. “The Lakers and the Denver Nuggets.”

“Go ahead and turn up the sound if you want.”

He frowned. “You don’t mind?”

“Of course not. I interrupted your game. If I’d known you were watching it, I would’ve waited until it was over.” She took a swig of beer so he’d realize she intended to be on her way shortly.

He reached for the remote control with an eagerness he didn’t bother to disguise. He pushed the volume
button, dropped his leg and scooted forward, immediately absorbed in the game.

Charlotte didn’t know that much about sports. Generally they bored her, but perhaps that was because she didn’t understand the rules. No one had ever taken the time to explain them to her. Football seemed absolutely senseless, and basketball hardly less so.

As far as she could tell, basketball involved a herd of impossibly tall men racing up and down a polished wooden floor, passing a ball back and forth until one of them forged ahead to the basket to try to score. It seemed that whenever the contest became interesting, the referees would blow their whistles and everything would come to a grinding halt. She couldn’t understand why the referees chose to wear zebra-striped shirts, either, since it wasn’t likely anyone would confuse the short, balding men with the players.

“Who’s winning?” That was innocuous enough, she decided. Such a simple question wouldn’t reveal the extent of her ignorance.

“For now, the Lakers. They’re up by four, but the lead’s been changing the entire game.”

“Oh.” She watched for several minutes, then asked what she considered to be another harmless question. “Why do some throws count for three points and others only two?”

The thoroughness of his response astonished her, prompting several more questions. By the time he’d answered them all, he must’ve been aware that she barely knew one end of the court from the other. But if
he was shocked by her lack of knowledge, he didn’t let it show.

Soon Charlotte found herself actually enjoying the game. Now that it made a bit more sense, she began to understand why Jason liked it so much. The score was tied a minute before halftime and when the Lakers scored at the buzzer to take the lead, Charlotte leapt to her feet and cheered.

Jason raised his eyebrows at her display of enthusiasm, which made Charlotte all the more self-conscious. Slowly she lowered herself back into the chair. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

“Don’t be. I just didn’t expect you’d be the type to appreciate sports.”

“Generally I’m not. This is the first time I’ve had any idea what was going on.”

A patronizing smile flashed in and out of his eyes. But that one instant was enough. Charlotte recognized the look; she’d seen other men wear the same expression. Men seemed to assume that because they could change their own oil and hook up a TV by themselves, they were naturally superior to women. Charlotte had run into that attitude most of her life.

Since it was her duty to defend womankind, and because she’d been fortified with a beer, Charlotte jumped to her feet. “Don’t get haughty with me, Jason Manning!” she said.

Trying to recover her dignity, she sat back down, tucking one leg beneath her. “You think just because
you happen to know a few sports rules, men are superior to women.”

“We are,” he returned wholeheartedly, without the least bit of reservation.

Charlotte laughed. “At least you’re honest. I’m sick of men who pay lip service to women, then go into the men’s room and snicker behind our backs.”

“I’m honest to a fault,” Jason agreed. “I’m willing to snicker right in front of you.”

“Somehow I don’t find that much of a compliment.”

“Hey, admit it. Men
are
superior, and if you haven’t owned up to it by now, you should. Don’t forget, God created us first.”

“Give me a break,” Charlotte said, rolling her eyes.

“All right. If you can, name one thing a woman does better than a man, other than having babies, which is a given.”

“I’ll improve on that. I’ll name…several.”

“Several? You won’t be able to come up with one.”

“Okay, then,” Charlotte said, accepting his challenge. “Women are more sensitive than men. Really,” she added when he snorted in response.

“Sure, you cry in movies. That negates your whole argument.”

“I’m not talking about crying.” She frowned at him. “I’m referring to feelings! Women aren’t afraid to face their feelings. Men are so terrified of emotion they hold it inside until they’re totally bent out of shape.”

Jason laughed, although grudgingly. “I suppose you think women are smarter than men, too.”

“No,” she said sincerely. “I’d say we’re about even in that department.”

“Go on,” he urged, as though he suspected she’d depleted her list.

“Another thing. Women are better at multitasking than men. We’re used to juggling all kinds of responsibilities.”

Jason snickered.

“I’m serious,” she returned. “If you think about it, you’ll realize it’s true. Women are expected to help support the family financially. Not only that, we’re
also
expected to assume the role of emotional caretaker. Responsibility for the family falls on the woman’s shoulders, not the man’s. Have you ever noticed how rarely men put the needs of others before their own?”

“‘Needs,’” Jason echoed. “Good grief, what’s
that?
Some pop-psych buzzword.”

Charlotte ignored him. “Frankly, I feel sorry for you guys. You’ve been allowed to remain children most of your lives. You’ve never been given the chance to grow up.”

Jason looked as though he wanted to argue with her, but couldn’t come up with an adequate rebuttal.

“Women handle pain better than men, too.” Charlotte was on a roll. “I’ve never seen a bigger baby in my life than a man who’s got a minor case of the flu. Most of them act as though we should call in the World Health Organization.”