The Manning Grooms (7 page)

“Don’t get all bent out of shape, little brother. Leah and I want to go to a movie.”

“So?”

“So, we’d like Carrie to babysit. She was a real hit with the boys yesterday. You don’t mind, do you? The girl’s a natural with kids.”

“Of course I don’t mind.” The fact was, Jason felt downright pleased. If Paul and Leah wanted Carrie to babysit, then Charlotte would be at home alone. He could come up with an excuse—Higgins would do—and casually drop in on her.

They needed to talk, and the sooner the better, although it wasn’t talking that interested him.

He tossed what remained of his popcorn in the garbage, brushed his teeth and shaved. He even slapped on some cologne. He wasn’t accustomed to using anything more than aftershave, but this evening was an exception.

He was whistling when he’d finished, his spirits high.

On the pretense of asking about next Saturday’s ball game, he phoned his brother to be certain Paul had managed to get hold of Carrie. He had. In fact, he’d be picking her up in the next half hour. Allowing ten minutes for Paul to whisk Carrie out of the apartment, that left him with forty minutes to kill.

Forty minutes would go fast, Jason mused, as he sat back down and turned on the TV. But his mind wasn’t on the bowling match. A far more intriguing match was playing in his mind. One between Charlotte and him.

Tonight was the night, he decided, determined to take Charlotte beyond the kissing stage. He didn’t mean to be calculating and devious about it…Well, yes, he did, Jason thought with a grin.

He’d be gentle with her, he promised himself. Patient and reassuring. For years he’d been treating terrified animals. One stubborn woman shouldn’t be any more difficult. He had no intention of pressuring her into anything. Nor would he coerce her if she was at all uncomfortable. He’d lead into lovemaking naturally, spontaneously.

He glanced at his watch, eager now, and was disappointed to see that only ten minutes had passed. Half an hour wasn’t
really
very long, but it seemed to feel that way to Jason.

“I’m leaving now, Mom,” Carrie called out.

Charlotte walked out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a terry-cloth towel. She smiled at Paul, then looked at her daughter. “Do you know what time you’ll be home?”

“Before ten. Don’t worry, I know it’s a school night.”

“I’ll have her back closer to nine,” Paul assured Charlotte.

“Okay.” She nodded. “Have fun.”

“I will,” Carrie said as they left, offering her first smile of the day. Actually, Charlotte had been talking to Paul, but she let it pass. Carrie was still upset about the school dance and had been cool toward Charlotte all afternoon.

Charlotte had just settled down with a book when there was a knock at the door.
Please, God, don’t let it be Jason,
she prayed, but apparently God was occupied elsewhere. Just as she’d feared, she opened the door and came face-to-face with Jason, boyishly handsome in his baseball cap.

“Hi,” he said, charming her with his smile. It wasn’t fair that a man should be able to wreak such havoc on a woman’s heart with a mere movement of the lips.

“Hello.” She’d been dreading this moment all day. “I was going to phone you later.” A slight exaggeration;
she’d been planning to delay calling for as long as possible. “Oh?”

“Yes…I won’t be able to go to the ball game with you next Saturday after all.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, making himself comfortable on her sofa. He anchored his ankle on the opposite knee and grinned up at her. “There’ll be plenty of other Saturdays. The summer is filled with Saturdays.”

It was awkward for her to be standing, while he seemed completely at home. So Charlotte sat, too—as far away from him as she could while still being on the same sofa. She angled her legs sideways, her hands clasped. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to make it any other Saturday, either.”

A pause followed her announcement. “Why not?”

“I…I…” She couldn’t look at him. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to see each other anymore.”

“Uh-huh.” He didn’t reveal his reactions one way or another.

Emotion seemed to thicken the air. He might not be
saying
anything, but he was feeling it. Charlotte was, too.

“Is it something I said?”

She lowered her eyes farther and shook her head.

“Something I did?”

“No…Oh, please, Jason, just accept this. Don’t make it any more difficult than it already is.” Her voice, which had remained steady until then, cracked.

“Charlotte,” Jason said, moving next to her with startling agility. “For heaven’s sake, what’s wrong?”

She covered her mouth with one hand and closed her eyes.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me,” he said.

“I can’t.”

“Why can’t you?”

“Because!” she cried, leaping to her feet. “Everything would’ve been all right if you hadn’t been so…so nice.” She was angry now, unreasonably angry, and not quite sure why.

Jason stood, too, his gaze holding hers. “I’m not sorry I kissed you. Nothing would make me regret that.”

His words made it all so difficult. She wasn’t sorry, either.

Her expression must have told him as much. He relaxed visibly and reached for her, gently holding her shoulders. Slowly, he drew her forward. Charlotte had no resistance left, and walked right into his embrace.

She sobbed once, then hid her face in his chest and wept openly.

Jason stroked her hair and whispered reassurances in her ear, as if she were a small child needing comforting. In some ways, she was exactly that.

After several minutes he lifted her face upward to meet his mouth. Over and over again he kissed her, lightly, softly, gently. Her breathing grew shallow.

“Jason…”

“Yes?” He raised his head, his eyes meeting hers.

“You’re doing it again.”

His mouth curved into a deliberate smile. “I know.”

Her hands were against his chest when he sought her mouth again. He was still gentle, but the kisses changed in texture and intensity. Their lips were fused together, the heat between them burning so fierce, she thought it might scorch her. Charlotte found it difficult to breathe, but she didn’t care. Breathing wasn’t important. She held on, her hands clutching his upper arms.

Jason led her back to the sofa, and without protest, Charlotte followed. He sat down and brought her into his lap. He didn’t give her the opportunity to protest before he directed her lips back to his. When her mouth opened in exultant welcome, he moaned. He kissed her again and again, until she was panting. Until her heart seemed to stop beating. Until there was nothing in her world but him.

His hands were opening the front of her blouse even before she realized his intent.

“Jason, no,” she said in a panic. “Please, no.”

“All right.” Jason twisted around and turned off the light. The room dimmed and shadows danced across the walls. “Is this better?” he asked.

Charlotte clamped her eyes shut. “I…I’m not very good at this,” she whispered, close to tears. “I’m not…sexy enough.” The only thing that kept her from springing free of his hold was fear. It held her immobile.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered. “Charlotte, do you hear me? You’re perfect.”

She buried her hands in his hair. His cap was gone,
but she didn’t remember when he’d removed it. Or if he had. She sighed.

He kissed her again, his mouth hard and hungry. Charlotte understood his hunger, but she wasn’t capable of satisfying it. “No,” she whispered when she could.

“No?” How disappointed he sounded.

“No,” she said a second time.

“You’re sure of that?” he asked, sounding regretful.

“Y-yes.”

He nodded, kissed her once more, then inhaled sharply. “I just wanted to check.”

“W
ho told you that you aren’t sexy?” Jason asked, relaxing on her sofa.

Charlotte’s hands stilled as she poured coffee into two mugs.

How do you expect a man to get excited when his wife’s such a cold fish? No wonder you’re a failure at lovemaking. Are you sure you’re even a woman?

Charlotte’s heart reeled as Tom’s words returned to haunt her. She’d laid to rest as much of his vindictiveness as she could, bound her wounds and gone on with her life. Pulling away the bandage, examining the damage now, just seemed pointless.

“Charlotte?” he probed gently.

“My ex-husband,” she muttered.

“He’s wrong, you know.”

She nodded, rather than argue with Jason. For the moment he was infatuated with her, but his fascination wouldn’t last, and eventually he’d feel the same way as Tom.

“You never mention your ex-husband.”

“There’s not much to say.” She carried the two mugs into the living room. “Carrie was excited about babysitting Paul and Leah’s children,” she said, pointedly changing the subject.

Jason stood and took a cup from her hands, then sat next to her on the sofa, sliding his arm around her shoulders. His touch was warm against her chilled skin.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered and kissed her cheek. “You’re lovely and sensuous and beautiful. Don’t ever let anyone tell you differently. I’m not going to force you to discuss your marriage. Not now, but I want you to know I’ll be ready to listen whenever you’re ready to talk.”

She smiled wanly, determined to steer the conversation away from the past.

Jason drank his coffee and left soon afterward, when it was apparent Charlotte wasn’t in the mood to talk. She wasn’t sure
what
her mood was, but she lacked the strength to analyze it.

Before leaving, Jason asked if she’d changed her mind again about the ball game on Saturday, and after a short hesitation, she nodded. Yes, she’d go, she told him. Jason smiled, obviously pleased, and headed out the door.

Something was happening to her, Charlotte thought, trembling. And it was happening against her will.

She’d made the decision earlier—she wasn’t going to see him again. After careful deliberation she’d decided it was best to end everything now before one or both of them ended up hurt. It was a simple, cut-and-dried conclusion.

Yet…yet when she’d tried to talk to him about it,
regret and doubt had consumed her until she’d dissolved in tears and pain.

Heaven help her, she didn’t want it to end! Jason must’ve sensed that because he hadn’t appeared too concerned when she’d told him.

His confidence was well-founded. Within minutes, he’d broken through her resolve and was kissing her senseless. And Charlotte hadn’t raised a single objection.

It was too late. Too late to walk away from him. Too late to go back to the way her life had been before Jason. She was trapped by her own weakness and would continue to be until Jason discovered the truth for himself.

Carrie arrived home soon afterward, full of tales about the twins and Kelsey. Seconds later, it seemed, she was in her room and on the phone. Her thoughts heavy, Charlotte appreciated the privacy.

It wasn’t as though this was the first time Jason had kissed her. The impact he had on her senses wasn’t startling or new. The man had the uncanny knack of stirring awake the part of her she’d thought had died the day Tom asked for a divorce.

She felt reborn, alive with hope. And yet she was more frightened than she’d ever been before. Everything was different with Jason. In his arms she experienced an excitement she’d never even known was possible. His tenderness, the loving gentle way in which he touched her, had given her cause to wonder, for the first time, if what Tom had said was true.

What if it wasn’t? Could that be possible? With Jason she felt none of the dread she’d felt when Tom had kissed her. His lovemaking had always been so hurried, so raw, as if he were in a rush to complete the act so he could turn away from her. She couldn’t imagine Jason being anything but compassionate and tender.

But what if all the things Tom had said
were
true? Her heart slowed with uneasiness. Jason Manning was an attractive, sensual man. A passionate man. And he’d expect—no, he’d need—a passionate woman.

Thinking of her years with Tom conjured up such ugly images in her mind. His taunts echoed like the constant sound of waves in a seashell, never stopping, never fading, always there to remind her of what a failure she was.

At ten, Charlotte turned out the lights, made sure Carrie was off the phone and went to bed. She should’ve guessed that sleep would escape her that night.

You’re perfect,
Jason had said.

Only she wasn’t—Tom had made certain she knew as much. The need to weep welled up within her, tightening her throat.

She had loved Tom. She’d hated him.

He had stripped her of her pride when he left.

Her life had ended that day. Yet, in other ways, her life had begun.

She’d known for weeks, months, that Tom was involved with another woman, and she’d said nothing because she was afraid. Because she feared life alone.
Because she was willing to do whatever she could to save her marriage, even if that meant denying the truth. So she’d chosen to believe his lies.

When he’d forced her to face reality, he’d come at her in anger and guilt…and hate. She hadn’t cried. Not a single tear, not even when the divorce was decreed final. It wasn’t until years later that she gave herself permission to grieve for the marriage, the fantasy she’d built in her mind of what might have been.

In the beginning she’d been too numb with shock, too dazed by that last horrible scene, to experience any emotion. Gradually, as time passed, Charlotte began to feel again, a little at a time. It was like an anesthetic wearing off. As the years went by, as the numbness faded, she had to deal with the pain. A throbbing, savage pain.

Her grief came in waves. Regret struck first, reminding her of all the might-have-beens; one fantasy led to another. By now they would’ve had more children, she’d told herself. Tom would be established in his career and she’d be living the life she’d been cheated of as a child.

Anger followed regret. How could she have given her heart to a man who’d ravaged her self-respect? How could she have loved him when he’d treated her so poorly? But love him she had, so much that she still ached at losing the life she’d dreamed they’d share.

But mostly, as the years went on, Charlotte felt an overwhelming sense of guilt. She knew it was unreasonable. After all, it was Tom who’d cheated on her,
Tom who’d walked out on his family, abandoned his wife and child. It was Tom who’d forsaken their vows. Yet
she
was the one who accepted responsibility.

Sometimes the guilt was so overpowering, Charlotte found it intolerable. If she’d been a better wife, Tom wouldn’t have sought another woman. He’d said so himself. If she’d been more enticing, more sexual, more attractive, more satisfying, he wouldn’t have done it. She was too thin, too flat, too cold. The list was endless.

After years of telling herself that Tom had used her inadequacies as an excuse for adultery, years of struggling to repair her self-esteem, Charlotte gave up. Surrendered. She bought it all. The reassurances she tried to offer herself were empty. Null and void.

Everything Tom had said was true. She was a failure as a woman. A failure as a wife. No man would ever be satisfied with her. Not for long. Tom hadn’t been and Jason wouldn’t be, either. She might as well accept that now and stop fighting the inevitable.

The doorbell chimed just as Jason finished reading the latest issue of one of the veterinary periodicals he subscribed to.

“Yeah?” he said, opening the door, half expecting one of his tenants.

“Hi,” Carrie said, striding purposefully into his apartment. “Have you got a minute to talk?”

“Sure.” Jason led the way into the living room and sat down. Carrie started to pace in front of his television, hands behind her back. Walking in his apartment
was dangerous with the week’s worth of newspapers spread across the carpet.

“Is it Higgins?” he prompted, when she didn’t speak right away.

She shook her head, eyes lighting up. “Higgins is doing great. He’s eating and everything. I think he likes it with Mom and me.”

“I’m sure he does.” They’d lavished the dog with love and attention from the moment Jason had carried him into their apartment on Monday afternoon. One would’ve thought the mutt was some kind of hero. In a way he was, Jason decided. If it hadn’t been for the dog, Jason didn’t know how long it would have taken him and Charlotte to connect.

“What can I do for you?”

“It’s Mom,” Carrie said.

“What about your mother?” He saw that tears had pooled in Carrie’s eyes, and she wasn’t trying to hide the fact. Like most men, Jason was uncomfortable when a woman started to cry. No matter what the cause, he felt personally responsible. And he felt an overpowering urge to do whatever he could to rectify the problem.

He certainly felt that way with Charlotte—even more so. She’d look at him with her beautiful blue eyes and the instant he saw the slightest hint of tears, he’d be putty in her hands. He was putty in her hands, anyway, tears or not, but that was because it was Charlotte.

“My mother’s ruining my life,” Carrie was saying.

Jason was no psychiatrist, but he wasn’t completely
obtuse. “Does this have something to do with that dance?”

Carrie nodded. “There’s this boy…his name’s Brad. He’s the cutest boy in class and the star of the track team. Every girl in school’s crazy about him and he asked
me.
Me,” she emphasized again, bringing her hand to her heart. “He asked me to the ninth-grade dance. When I talked to Mom, she said I could go, but when I said Brad’s father was picking us up and…and driving us there, she went totally weird on me.”

“I’m sure your mother has a good reason for feeling the way she does.”

“She won’t even talk about it.”

“Carrie, listen. I’d like to help, but this is between you and your mother. I can’t interfere with a parenting decision.”

Carrie nodded, her throat working as she struggled not to cry. “I don’t expect you to interfere…I was hoping that you’d help me—tell me what to say to make Mom understand how old-fashioned she’s being. I haven’t said anything to Brad about my mom not wanting me to be in the same car as him and his dad and…and the dance is next Friday night. There isn’t much time left.”

Jason rubbed the side of his face. “What’s your mother’s primary objection?”

“She thinks driving with him makes it a real date. And I’m not allowed to
date
until next year.”

“I see. What if she drove you and Brad to the dance?”

“That won’t work, either…. Everyone will think I asked him and…it might be silly, but I want Suzie Jennings to know otherwise.” She wiped her eyes and took a moment to regain her composure.

“How about if Brad’s dad drops you off and your mother picks the two of you up after the dance?”

Carrie dropped her hands to her side. “Picks us up?” she repeated thoughtfully.

“It wouldn’t be considered a date then, would it? The two of you obviously need to be driven to and from the dance and this would simply be a means of transporting you.”

“There’s a party at Amanda Emerich’s house right afterward, but it’s directly across the street from the school and everyone’s invited.”

“I have an even better idea,” Jason said enthusiastically. At Carrie’s blank stare, he explained. “How about if your mother offered to chaperone the dance?”

Judging by the look Carrie gave him, she didn’t share his enthusiasm. “That wouldn’t work because she’d need a date. Chaperones at our school dances are always couples.”

“I’ll go with her,” Jason said casually. As soon as he made the suggestion, he wanted to jerk it back. Him dancing? The last dance he’d attended had been his sister’s engagement party. He’d rented a tuxedo and been miserable most of the night. Before then, his only other experience on the dance floor had been as a high-school junior. He didn’t know how to dance then and he hadn’t learned since.

“You’d do that?” Carrie asked, her voice rising. For the first time since she’d entered his home, her eyes sparkled with hope.

“Ah…” Oh, what the heck, he’d do it if it would help the kid. “Sure,” he answered. “I’d volunteer to be a chaperone.”

Carrie let out a cry of glee and raced across the room to throw her arms around his neck.

“Your mother might not be willing—”

“She will,” Carrie said confidently. “Mom’s crazy about you.”

“Yes, but will she be crazy about the idea of Brad’s dad driving you there and the two of us taking you home?”

Carrie mulled that over for a moment. “Of course she will,” she said, revealing no doubt. “Why shouldn’t she be? It’s a wonderful compromise. We’ll both be satisfied…. I mean, this plan isn’t perfect—no one wants their mother chaperoning a school dance—but it’ll work because Mom’s going to agree when she knows you suggested it.”

Jason was suffering from second thoughts when he rang Charlotte’s doorbell an hour later. Carrie had devised a plan for approaching Charlotte with his idea. At the appropriate point, he was to suggest the two of them chaperone the dance and make it sound like a spur-of-the-moment idea.

He was rather proud of his compromise—not the part about chaperoning the dance, but the shared-
driving idea. By the time Carrie had left his apartment, he felt like an expert. Raising children wasn’t so difficult if you applied a bit of common sense.

Now, though, he wasn’t entirely sure he should get involved. The dance was an issue between Charlotte and Carrie, and his instincts told him he was trespassing.

It would’ve been different if Charlotte had come to him for advice, but she hadn’t and he doubted she would. There wasn’t any reason for her to, at least not with regard to Carrie. Charlotte was the one with parenting experience, not him.

Despite his second thoughts over his role in this drama, he’d agreed to help Carrie—even though his instincts now told him he was going to regret this.